#he wants to be the graceful hound so badly

[canisalbus]

Machete is a graceful hound whenever he's not a shakey boi. Unfortuanlty he's always a shakey boi.

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#he wants to be the graceful hound so badly #and sometimes he is #like he's supposed to have his moments #where you can see that he's got potential and spark and even a little bit of charisma #but being neurotic and moody and frazzled kind of pulls the rug from under his feet more often than not #answered #anonymous #shakey boi

[acupofbullshit]

The ugly, ugly truth of a stone to the heart.

“Even on my worst days, did I deserve babe, all the hell you gave me? Because I loved you… I swore I’d love you until my dying day.”

Ladies, theybies, gentlemen and kinfolk alike gather round, Gather round!

For I have quite the tale to tell you.

It’s a cautionary true tale of tragedy, heart ache, heart break, love, loss, kindness and a lesson in why empathy isn’t always the best policy.

Our story spans the better part of a decade and… none of it’s enjoyable.

The people in this story are extremely real and is based entirely on fact, truth and genuine circumstance; that being said please do not take it upon yourself to absorb this traumatic situation to make it your own or to use this as a shield to hide behind your own feelings for the situation and the people involved.

If you care too greatly for those involved and you simply want to stay away from the details or would rather live a Schrödinger’s lifestyle I implore you to back out now, stop reading and call it a night… that’s enough social media for tonight.

If not, please read on.

To start I’ll answer some questions as I usually do.

Q. Why are you doing this?

A. I’ve been hounded relentlessly for it on NGL and there’s a character limit there so I figured if you really wanna know so bad? here we are.

Q. Why do you feel the need to do this?

A. Two reasons

1. He’s gonna say I’m crazy and hide the truth so might as well actually be crazy and spill the beans

2. I’ve accidentally opened a door to social media where some of you feel genuinely entitled to the details of my personal relationships and the damage is done.

Q. Will you share your life openly on social media in the future?

A. Maybe… maybe not.

If this experience has taught me anything it’s you really cannot trust the people around you and sometimes you need to trust that the universe knows details you don’t and hears conversations you can’t.

If the circle needs to close, let it close.

It doesn’t matter how much you love them or how badly you want things to change.

Q. Does the other party know you’re sharing these details?

A. Probs not, hey? But I also don’t care?

Not once did that man think about me or our children at any point through his indiscretions… so… 🤷‍♀️

Q. What happens if your kids read this in the future?

A. I’m extremely honest with my girls and they’re already aware of the important details and this is a lived experience for us all.

I’m not sharing aaaaaaaaalllll the traumatic shit because… I don’t want to relive that? Just the relative need to knows.

trigger warnings in effect for infidelity, abuse, anger, sadness, depression, miscarriage and everything else that feels like anguish.

Are you ready kids?

Because it’s gonna be a bumpy ride…

“I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace”

Let’s take you back 10 years. It’s 2014, MH370 Is missing, Ebolas a problem, Vine is popping off and Fancy by Iggy Azalea and Charli XCX is taking the world by storm.

I’m a newly single 21 year with 2 kids under 3 and my friends are trying to set me up with a cute boy they knew who, I was CERTAIN wasn’t interested in me.

The boy could barely look at me without frowning and when I tried to speak to him he always looked like he was in pain. There was no way he liked me… and yet he was asking me on a date.

He was a little younger, lots of fun and very handsome… and also NINETEEN. And he didn’t have kids of his own. And liked to party. And he didn’t finish school. And he couldn’t drive and he didn’t have any responsibilities and he had his whole life ahead of him… why on earth would this man chain himself to a woman with 2 young children?

Trading in Kesha and Skrillex in dark rooms overflowing with booze and dimly lit with lasers for Peppa pig and Disney movies on the couch illuminated with a nightlight and a 3 years olds giggle… not the most ideal trade for a young man and yet still, he promised he wanted it.

He wanted a family, a life, a house full of love and children of his own someday.

“Even if it does work out and he actually likes me it’s a recipe for disaster … this is a bad idea” I thought to myself.

10 years later I kick myself for not trusting my instincts and hate the fact that, like always, I was right.

Ok I’m not always right.

Once I thought there were 100 seconds in a minute and 60 centimetres in a metre... yeah yeah, I know. I KNOW.

But I am always right about PEOPLE. who they are, how they act as their true selves and their core motivations.

When you’ve been through enough trauma to madden a small army you get pretty good at seeing things for what they are… and even better at delusionally pretending you can’t and especially so when love is involved.

Back to the story.

Time wore on and we were happy... Mostly.

Or at least we were right up until our first major hurdle as a couple… infidelity.

The genius accidentally showed me someone’s nude photographs on his computer while trying to open an anime for us to watch.

How was it handled?

He said I planted it there to make him look bad and that I was trying to set him up.

Listen, I’m crazy… but I’m not INSANE.

I dye my hair pink on a whim and drive interstate for a meal. I’ll laugh so hard at a seal screaming at a traffic cone I’ll accidentally trigger a panic attack.

See? Crazy, but not insane.

Naturally I rebutted and refuted his claims but he doubled down which is when he learned gaslighting was an effective tool to weaponise against someone with admitted lapses in memory.

Yes, you can start cringing now. It only gets worse from here.

We hadn’t even hit our first anniversary before the cracks were well and truly embedded and they ran DEEP.

And I stayed. Stupidly, because I thought somehow I DID somehow plant them there or it WAS somehow my fault.

What if it WAS an old photo that he just happened to have saved to his desktop that he forgot about? Benefit of the doubt right?

Wrong. WRONG.

I look back on that poor young gullible woman and I’m filled with rage. He’s nice, sure but he’s not worth the thousands of dollars in therapy and the years of happiness lost.

Stacey, you should have run. Got out clean! Dodged a bullet!

It doesn’t matter if there was another failed relationship, this wasn’t on your hands you don’t have to prove you can outlast something out of spite anymore.

BUT I DIGRESS.

we move on, things change.

We put in some work together, I change jobs he goes back to school to get his apprenticeship… things are going kinda great! (Aside from my medical mishaps and me losing my job that is)

…And then we got new neighbours.

That’s when the real trouble began.

Within a year of them moving in he had made friends, destroyed a marriage, broke up two families and forced us to move.

Why? Because he just had to try and (maybe) succeed in fucking his best friends fiancée (our next door neighbours).

That one was hard.

I had just endured a miscarriage and was undergoing a likely cancer diagnosis… I’d spent the day before having holes poked into my cervix to remove suspicious cells and I was worn out and exhausted.

After a long ass day of being in pain and raising girls I had just put dinner on the table and felt ready to cry. He tried to cheer me up and show me a “a funny meme” at the table. What he ended up showing me was my very pregnant next door neighbour masturbating in a towel.

I didn’t laugh at the hilarious portrait. He wasn’t laughing when I threw him out of my house and slammed the door. The neighbours saw, they whispered “see, he said she was insane”

I didn’t care.

He deleted the evidence of the affair and tried to convince me I didn’t actually see anything and i had just made it up. She got ahead of the curve and told her partner I was just an awful woman with an axe to grind.

“It’s the stress of the situation, it’s because you’re sick. You’ve just lost your job. You need me”

I could scream now.

Therapy made me believe I was somehow responsible for this adult child’s inability to regulate his impulses

“He has adhd… and addiction issues… relapses will happen but you love each other. He can’t be fully held accountable for his actions you’re going to have to learn to work around these problems”.

“You both want to work on this right?”

Right?

It’s not like you have a lot going for you anyway…

One more shot… just one more.

And then while we were in the thick of working on our relationship to each other he left for work again and lived in Newcastle 5 days to 7 days a week for 6 months.

I stayed here, trying to work full time, raise 2 kids and wrap up a custody battle.. he forgot I even existed. He’d forget to call… forget to message… forget to tell the girls good night…

You can guess what happened.

Of course you can, you see the pattern. You’re not blinded.

And you know what? I definitely saw it too.

Except now? He’s adored by my girls and were newly engaged I can’t just back out now.. I can’t take away their parent.

It’s not their fault he does these things and he’s mostly so good to them… maybe I could just learn to live with this….

Maybe if I just lost the weight or tried harder to be a better wife or was more demure and less abrasive… maybe I needed to change my hair or my style or my entire personality… maybe tattoos might help.

Maybe if I changed everything about myself it might make it easier for him to want to love me…

Stacey you fucking Brussel Sprout you’re TRAUMATISED.

He didn’t need to gaslight me anymore. I was doing it to myself FOR him.

Can you believe we haven’t even hit the half way point yet.

The next ones though… these were DOOZYS.

It’s now 2019. We’re supposed to be getting married in 3 months. Guess who’s texting pictures of his dick to women on the internet again? SPOILER ALERT: It wasn’t me.

The wedding is off. We’re just living together at this point out of sheer necessity.

And that’s when things really took a turn.

I won’t get into the details because.. this bit is really REALLY sad but the highlight reel runs: a broken hand from punching a hole through the floor, a trip to the emergency mental health unit for one, $30,000.00 in debt and three of us in crisis accomodation over Christmas in a hostel later I’m now free… and he was in the local gatts bed the day I left.

Moving forwards I have my own place, I’m feeling better, I worked on myself and I was feeling great about life again.

He and I are still friends trying to maintain a friendship for the girls who still adore him. They don’t know any different and I don’t have the heart to tell them.

And then covid happened.

And he started staying more and more frequently… and he’s changed and he’d worked on himself and things were different this time…

I wanna puke I’m so dumb. DUMMMMBB.

For a while though, things actually were great. We were working together as a team, the girls were thriving and things were going well…

So why won’t he commit to long term goals?

The tension was palpable. Our friends were CONFUSED. I was devastated.

From the very beginning all I had ever asked for was for him to love me and the girls unconditionally and that we’d get married and grow our family together.

This was only ever expanded to include “and to not cheat on me”.

He swore these goals were shared. Promised these were things he wanted too and that he definitely wanted them.

So why, after 7 years of back and forth would he not ask me to marry him and make things official? He’s asked before right? Why won’t he ask again?

Why after 7 years did we have no savings, no shared major assets and no real plan to expand our family? Why did we not have a 5 year goal?

Because he didn’t want too in the first place.

I begged.

Cried.

Pleaded.

“What can I do?” I’d lament.

“Why is this just not working” I’d whisper between sobs. And he’d comfort me. Reassure me it’s not me, things are just tough… the excuses were endless.

“Why am I not enough?” I was torturing myself.

We were in the throws of twice weekly couples therapy that I’m paying a shit tonne for.

I’m doing the homework, I’m working on my communication, I’m engaging in the sessions and baring all because I’m committed to making this work.

Him?

“It’s hard for me, you know I don’t like reading. Talking about myself makes me uncomfortable, I lost the homework binders, I hate doing these exercises they’re dumb and they do nothing”.

And then guess who unexpectedly fell pregnant? Me. It was me.

I was thrilled. He was mad.

I don’t think he actually expected this to happen, I mean I know he didn’t because he accused me of cheating on him for it to have happened. I didn’t, by the way.

No matter though, a routine check up revealed this little angel wasn’t proceeding.

I spent my New Year’s Eve in a hospital alone and scared having the news confirmed to me that the child I had longed for hadn’t made it and it was time to proceed with the next steps… and then we went to a pool party so he could ignore me.

“We can’t let our friends down Stacey, they’re expecting us. It might do you some good.”

My mind was elsewhere. I was a shell. On another astral realm while my body just robotically moved on the physical plane.

He? Was on an inflatable unicorn in the pool living his best life.

Splashing and smiling and laughing like nothing was wrong.

Was I wrong? Was I wrong to feel this way? It had only been 10 weeks maybe he’s right and maybe I was just too attached to an idea…

A few days later I proceeded to endure the most traumatic medical procedure of my life. After bleeding uncontrollably for hours at home I attended the emergency department where they completed a bedside extraction without pain relief because all the ORs were contaminated with covid patients.

A 24 year old nurse named Bethany who confessed earlier she was so overwhelmed and wanted to leave the profession held my hand and let me cry into her shoulder while another nurse held my legs apart so the doctor could do what he needed to do.

He stayed home and played Spider-Man to pass the time. Granted it was during covid and it was suggested he wait outside, I didn’t expect him to go home brag about finishing the game.

Y U C K

Then there was the incident at our best friends wedding… l wasn’t myself again yet after losing the baby the month prior but it was our friends wedding and I wanted to be there.

We booked a hotel room on the premises, I wanted to make it special. I put in some EFFORT to look as hot as I could… it didn’t work.

He got trashed and threw up in a garden because he didn’t want to spend time with me. I wanted to sit next to each other and dance on the dance floor and feel the love in the room…

He staggered to the hotel room.

I stayed a little longer because it was our best friends wedding? And I wanted to enjoy it?

I danced with my friends mum.

Hopped in the Photo Booth with some friends, ate some cake and then my social battery ran dry.

Exhausted, it was my turn to stumble back to the hotel room. My swollen feet rubbing in my heels, a little tipsy from the wine and lost because the room numbers didn’t make sense.

I find my way back and he’s passed out on the bed, fully suited, shoes still on and phone in hand.

Silly man. I thought. Had too much fun.

“I’ll get his shoes off for a start.. now I’ll put his phone on charge for him…” it was still unlocked. Messages open. He was sexting our old neighbour again.

I dropped the phone. Stifled my cry.

I sat cross legged in the bottom of the shower and sobbed for hours.

The usual.

I was embarrassed and ashamed.

My friends can never know… at their wedding?!

He’d be dead by morning.

I kept it to myself. I mean I confronted him when he found me in the shower but that one I wanted to keep to myself.

I wish I didn’t.

It wasn’t long after that he went away for work AGAIN. our entire life was him disappearing for weeks to months at a time for work. This time it wasn’t too far away and it was a short trip to Bathurst for a few days but I had a hunch…

Sigh.

This is just a joke now.

Cycle repeats. There’s another woman, there are photos, there are messages and I feel sick except this time there’s an ultimatum. Do it again and this time I’ll burn your life to the ground.

He promises and I do too. He promised he’d do the right thing, I promised I’d set fire to everything we’d built together just to watch the flames cleanse and scorch the earth between us.

He went straight back to love bombing and I’d just checked out at this point, going through the motions of life waiting for the inevitable error.

Because I knew it was coming.

It could take a week, it could be 5 years but I knew it would come…. And boy oh boy did it come.

The wheels well and truly fell off the wagon when he forgot my 30th birthday and said I was dramatic for expecting him to know he had to plan something.

… what.

It’s your significant others birthday… a milestone one… you didn’t have to build me a palace dude I just wanted a fuckin’ card and maybe for you to plan something with the kids.

I was biding my time. I knew our relationship was over.

We were now approaching 10 years of …. This… and there was still no ring on my finger. No love in our house and no children running free.

25 May 2024, the break up date was set in my mind.

I was waiting it out when again… 2 little pink lines came up in August.

I didn’t want to allow myself to be hopeful but I did.

The more time went on the more excited I got and the more distant he became.

“It’s just nerves after what happened last time”

*pterodactyl screech*

NO IT’S NOOOOOTTTTT.

The Second trimester rolls around, we’re starting to tell everyone... I’m jazzed. I feel like my life’s falling into a disjointed step and things are looking relatively good… that deadlines looking really silly now. Maybe I was wrong? I wanted so BADLY to be proven wrong. I had HOPED I was wrong.

The only thing that stopped me from announcing our news to everyone we knew? We were waiting on our harmony test to confirm a gender before I told my parents who I knew would be over the fuckin’ moon.

A 15 week routine check up confirmed our daughter Emery lost her heartbeat sometime that week.

I was devastated.

Gutted.

Drowned in grief.

And I felt so alone.

I felt like I was mourning this loss and a bit more on my own and I couldn’t understand why. I knew my daughter was gone but I couldn’t understand what else I was grieving.

Subconsciously I think I knew.

Like another cruel twist of fate I woke up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain. No waves of rolling pain it was just ow. It’s labour but it’s wrong.

In the middle of the night I drove myself to the hospital and delivered my little girl on my own. The staff were incredible and concerned I was alone.

They dosed me up on morphine and I silently wept for hours.

By the time he arrived to the hospital to “support me” I was ready to go home.

I drove myself home to cry my eyes out and get our kids ready for school and he went to work like it was another normal day.

Weeks go by and I’m lost; spiraling into a deep depression and I can’t anchor myself to anything to slow the decent.

I’m stuck somewhere between sorrow and anger and a weird dissociative state that I can’t shake.

I’m trying to run my household, turn up for work, parent my children, look after myself and be a good friend and an attentive partner but I’m falling short at every turn. Everything I touch becomes sick with melancholy.

Everything I’m trying isn’t working.

And then it hits me. I’m grieving alone.

I am GRIEVING alone.

I am doing it ALL by myself. All the household chores, all the errands, all the things required to maintain a family and a relationship. I’m going to my appointments alone. I’m going through the motions alone. I’m crying alone. I’m awake at night with my heart in pieces alone. I’m reading the books alone, I’m trying to cope alone and I’m trying to love again alone.

Our intimacy disappeared as soon as he knew we were expecting and it just didn’t come back.

He was always so angry at me because I couldn’t get it together and he’s constantly on his phone… I know what this is…. I’ve seen this movie before and I know how it ends.

My heart sank.

Dread seeps in.

The insidious feeling creeps into the back of my mind and I cannot shake it.

So I did the cardinal Cardi B sin.. I went through his phone that night and I found some things I definitely didn’t like.

He was cheating the entire way through our pregnancy, loss and afterwards.

Including the night I delivered.

Who is she? Some girl i met on TikTok. How long has it been going on for? Not long, a few months.

I saw red.

I cut sick.

I went feral.

You don’t need me to tell you why.

I was definitely done this time. The ick was severe.

I screamed in agony. Ugly hot tears spewing from my eyes with pure unbridled rage. How dare you. How very fucking dare you.

I threw what I could get my hands on, clawed at my own skin to try and hold onto the pieces of my soul that were so desperately trying to escape my body… I had descended into madness.

I spat words laced with venom from a place of hurt, building and bubbling over the last 10 years all coming out like an unstoppable crescendo.

My body in a state of shock didn’t know whether to turn my brain off as a response to trauma, have a panic attack or violently grieve through the pain I felt. Somehow, it did all three.

I’m not proud of the woman I was that night… not the nights immediately after.

Grief on grief on grief on grief… I had already lost so much it had just compounded into this hideous snowball.

My best friend, my child and now my love.. what could possibly be next?

Things became extremely uncomfortable when I confirmed to him I was definitely done this time. I couldn’t look at him and feel comfort and I couldn’t find solace in his eyes anymore. All I felt was a burning hot rage and bitter, BITTER betrayal and I wanted to rip down the walls of the house we built together.

He kept telling me we could make it work that it was a mistake and he was regretful and he was committed to change this time around.

Too late bro.

The little part of me that still loved you died the second I read you had called HER the day I delivered a corpse but you couldn’t call me to check on me?

Vile.

I had always thought that I wasn’t a prize, that I wasn’t worth shit and that nobody would love me and I should be grateful for the small bits of love and the bare minimum I got.

I thought that the love and affection I had so desperately tried to cultivate just wasn’t real and only existed to serve as a plot device in fairytales.

I thought that if I left him my life would be over and the walls would collapse in. That I couldn’t live without him in my life… like I didn’t know how. I wasn’t ready to let go or maybe I didn’t want too.

Our shared trauma bonds didn’t allow me to see what a life without toxicity could be.

It was awful and tumultuous but it was familiar and it was safe.

I was terrified of starting over and petrified of being alone.

That I would somehow be judged for not being able to make this work and that somehow it would be me to blame that I couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering. That my daughters would somehow hate me for taking away their father figure.

Stupid, I know.

That night was the greatest thing to ever happen to me. As soon as I verbalised to myself and to him that whatever this was was… whatever the last decade was… was done it was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and the dark rain cloud drowning me had dissipated.

I began to feel free.

The person I thought I lost slowly began creeping back in… I felt more and more like myself everyday.

We made the decision to run the lease out and still live together for the time being. It was only a few months. It was achievable… right?

I hated the animosity I still felt but I loved the person I was rebecoming. I thought I could do it.

I am an idiot and I was wrong.

I hadn’t told anyone about what was happening except my 6 closest friends who have supported me through this like absolute legends. If you were anywhere near my socials you would have guessed something was up but I didn’t really elaborate to anyone outside the 6.

I was happy and coping as best I could. But I wasn’t immune. Crying fits, bouts of anger and just real mean shit wasn’t uncommon… it was quickly becoming apparent this was terrible for my mental health and couldn’t be sustainable.

I can’t live with looking at the face of my trauma and he can’t live with me wanting to rip his throat out of his body any time I see an exposed neck.

Something has to give.

Flash forwards to New Year’s Eve. Some time had passed and a very nice man who had been checking in on me as a friend messaged me nicely on Instagram to wish me a happy new year and said that they were grateful to know me and was excited for us to be excellent friends in 2024.

I echoed the sentiment.

He then replied to a photo I had posted to my story to say I looked very good and that the picture itself was Lock Screen worthy.

A little cheeky, a little flirty… but I liked it.

But just like anything in this story, it’s not quite that simple because even though he was a third party with limited knowledge of the state of my personal affairs except for the fact I was vaguely single and based of that information decided to compliment a girl on the internet… he unknowingly and unwittingly set off an uncomfortable chain reaction resulting in me learning exactly who my ex lover really was and what they were actually capable of… and this poor man was unfairly caught in the crossfires of someone else’s mistakes.

And that’s something I’ll be regretful for, for the rest of my life.

Unbeknownst to me, while I was reading the nice message of appreciation for my friendship and a cheeky compliment that had my self confidence on the rise so too, was my ex partner.

Reading over my shoulder in a veiled attempt to pry into my personal life.

He was big mad.

Mad someone had the audacity to be kind to me. Mad someone had the gumption to think I was pretty. Mad someone had the gaul to tell me so. Mad someone had the hide to appreciate my friendship and what I could offer.

He was MAD mad.

I promise you, if you saw a screen shot from this extremely tame and respectful interaction you’d sit there and think … “is that it?”

No grand display of love or devotion, no vulgar sexting, no big feelings and nothing even remotely derogatory towards my ex partner. Just two pals saying “happy new year and hey, you look cute tonight by the way”.

Until that very moment when he dropped a cheeky flirt it had only ever been platonic between us…Except for the night we met 2 years ago but that’s a story for another time haha.

So why… why was this man reacting like I’d tipped his mother’s ashes down the sink? Like he was somehow still entitled to me and the love I want to give and receive?

He stormed out of the room and disappeared for hours to sulk… I was confused. We weren’t together, it’s not my place to pry into his personal life and whatever’s got him upset… I guess I’ll let him go…

until I get a message from the nice man that read something like:

“Hey, uh I don’t want to start shit but I’m a little concerned… who is this guy and why is he liking my photos from years ago?”

… what.

The screenshots came in.

They didn’t know each other. I was their only mutual friend. I hadn’t mentioned this man by name. He doesn’t go by his legal name on the internet let alone his Instagram handle… How did he know who he was?

“I’m so sorry I’ll handle it”.

We duke it out. Not my best choice to do it infront of a giant glass window.

Our new years guests couldn’t hear what was happening but they sure could see…

I was in protective mode for a man I barely knew but why should this man be a victim of intensive cyber stalking for complimenting me? Why should his privacy be invaded like that because my ex couldn’t get his shit together and fumbled the bag?

None of that is this nice man’s fault.

Besides, WE WEREN’T EVEN TOGETHER. WHY DID IT MATTER SOMEONE ELSE WAS NICE TO ME.

More venom fell out.

“There’s been a line behind you waiting for an opportunity this entire time, you only held your place at the front because I left that place open for you”

Not my best work, but definitely a pivotal moment for my own self confidence because… there WAS a line. I AM desirable. I AM wanted. I CAN be loved and I don’t need to torture myself by staying with someone who can’t offer basic respect let alone something more.

I’ve got goals. I’ve got places I wanna be. I have achievements I wanna tick off and I don’t want to be held back anymore by an emotionally deficient fuck boy.

And I realised I can live my best life with my good Judy’s by my side, my girls by my side and my family by my side.

I mean it would be nice right to have someone love you and see you and love your kids unconditionally and have the same shared interests or goals… but I’m the master of my own destiny and fuck anyone that gets in the way of that.

Anyway, he flipped it.

So much so he did the unthinkable.

Now I understand being upset. I understand acting on impulse and I understand hitting someone where it hurts when they’ve wronged you if it’s deserved.

WHEN it’s deserved.

Over 10 years of knowing someone you come to learn quite a bit about them and what really gets them excited and in turn what really upsets them.

He absorbed my secrets, my fears and my insecurities just to weaponise them against me.

Cheating on me is one thing.

Lying to me is another.

Taking one of the worst parts of my life and making me relive it for your own entertainment and manipulation? NEW LEVEL OF FUCKERY UNLOCKED.

Over the next few days I started to receive some pretty nasty anonymous messages… some I posted to my story some I didn’t.

Most were targeted at me and my appearance, some were targeted at the man that was messaging me to spread rumour, some at my kids and some were targeted at my ex partner.

I’ve been the victim of a hate campaign before so these messages were admittedly quite triggering. They preyed on the most insidious thoughts that live in the back of my mind.

Who was this person? Why would they say these things to me? The only people sending me these messages are people I already know and I can’t imagine these people saying such awful things…

My mental health took a slight sidestep and I went full undercover operative.

I set up my own little investigation. No one was more surprised when it lead me to him.

No.. I must be wrong it couldn’t be…

Until it was with out a doubt confirmed when he stupidly dropped the nice man’s legal name in an anonymous message.

There were only 4 people who knew we were talking to each other let alone his name and I definitely didn’t send the message… neither did the nice man… my best friend certainly wouldn’t have done it so it left only one option.

I paid for premium access to the NGL app. Got the clues I needed about the sender of the messages and confronted him.

He lied.

He always does.

Even when confronted with the truth.

Tried to gaslight his way out of it. Again. But it wouldn’t work this time.

The proof was right in front of us. I had the very compelling evidence. It couldn’t be disputed.

After trying to lie for a 4th time he confessed it was true and he did send some of those nasty ass messages in an attempt to manipulate my self confidence, sow the seeds of deceit between the nice man and I so I wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore and to make me feel sorry for him for all the hate he was getting online.

Again, like a bull charging at a waving flag I saw RED.

“You have a month. Get out of my house. Never speak to me again.”

This was a new low. A real ugly point. I had never cheated on him. I’d never betrayed his trust. I’d never been intentionally mean like this.

Why…

W H Y .

I immediately unfriended him off what I could. What I couldn’t, I blocked.

We weren’t friends. We never truly were. Friends don’t hurt each other like that. Friends don’t do shit like that. That’s enemy behaviour.

Only someone who despises you would do those things, any of those things let alone all of those things over a prolonged period of time.

I didn’t think this could get any worse and yet there I was… publicly bullied by my ex on the internet for his own enjoyment.

It’s time. It’s time to tell everyone. My parents… my siblings… our wider network of friends… my girls.

My girls….

Sitting the girls down was tough… an activity I never want to do again.

A conversation I thought we would have with them together to tell them we couldn’t make it work and their stepdad would be leaving - the last little honourable thing he could do… apologise to them… be honest with them… love them… and let them go gently ended up with me in tears telling them on my own that everything had fallen apart and mum was sorry.

My best friend holding one daughter while I held the other. And we all cried.

My best friend was the one helping me to explain everything to our daughters and work through the complex emotions we were all feeling. Drying tears, answering questions and reminding them this isn’t their fault…

They were devastated. My eldest fumed and my youngest sobbed in pain… their first real heartbreaks.

I’m grateful for her everyday. I’m grateful for her kindness, her love and her support but this wasn’t heartbreak she had to endure. This wasn’t her responsibility to step in… it was his.

He aimlessly folded the same piece of washing and watched the conversation unfold.

He didn’t say a word.

If I had felt guilty before asking him to leave, putting my girls first or leaning into the nice man’s advances I definitely didn’t now.

… And I still don’t.

“2nd of Feb dude, you gotta be outta here. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have anywhere else I won’t put us all through this anymore you need to make your arrangements and your exit from stage left”

I’m in my healing era. My lover girl era. My ‘be a better friend’ era. My ‘be an excellent mum’ era. My stand up for myself era. My evolution era.

And I will not lie, romance has indeed found me along the way.

And I’m so okay with that.

It’s unconventional. It’s different. It’s kind and respectful. It’s considerate and tender. It’s FUN. it’s goofy and it’s pure…

I’m pretty sure it feels like it’s supposed to.

It’s not a fight to the death every day. It’s not a struggle. It’s not nights crying myself to sleep wondering where I went wrong (it was most nights that we were together… I won’t lie). It’s not toxic fights that have me worried about what’s going to be broken this time.

I don’t need to wonder if this man actually likes me, he makes sure I know.

It’s honest and supportive and REAL…

and it’s a steep learning curve.

I have a lot of unlearning to do and behaviours to quash to be a better version of myself… not just for myself but for everyone in my orbit but for the first time in a long time I’m excited for what happens next.

The next few months will be hard financially, emotionally and physically.

But I have a kick ass gang of friends, 2 amazing daughters who under the circumstances are thriving, a fantastic therapist (shout out gabz the big dawg) and someone I can invest all my extra love into and is more than happy to send it right back.

I’m going for surgery in a week, I have a plan in place to correct my health and I’m pushing myself to be the best possible version of myself not just for me or for them… but for you too, dear reader.

Given so much of my life was shared openly and then used against me to hurt me by people I trusted and loved I can’t say for certain this level of openness will remain.

Some aspects of my life will be kept just for me, my girls lives will still stay off the internet until they’re ready (occasional happy snaps and tidbits will still flow freely don’t worry about that), I’ll still share the cool shit I’m up to with work, the dumb shit my friends and I get amongst and life events with my new significant other will be shared when and if I find one.

But only if and when I want too.

And I won’t use social media to cover up my extreme unhappiness.

Not everything you see on the internet is real and I too have played a part in that.

Relationships are complex, no one has the perfect one and keeping up appearances only gives you more heartache than what it’s worth.

So if there’s any wisdom I can impart on you it’s this:

💜 You are more than your relationships.

💜 Fuck the haters, they’re gonna chat shit anyway you might as well give them something to talk about.

💜 You are precious and deserve to be protected and loved and to be happy.

💜 don’t settle because you’re expected to.

💜 You can cut parts of yourself down but no matter how far you trim you’ll never fit into the box you think you should be in.

If you don’t fit, get a bigger box.

💜 Nothing on the internet is real.

💜 Sometimes letting go is necessary to heal.

💜 Love will find you in the most unexpected of ways and in the most unexpected places.

💜 Listen to your friend that gets the weird vibes, they’re usually right.

💜 The NSW healthcare system both sucks and is excellent at the same time.

💜 Do what you want, it’s not too late to start over. You’re gonna die eventually… live the life you want.

💜 Live in the now and the future. The past is a place we can visit but you cannot live there.

💜 Just because you’re happy sometimes it doesn’t outweigh the heartache all the time.

💜 Don’t sacrifice yourself. For anyone.

💜 People will understand eventually.

💜 Just because you can do everything on your own doesn’t mean you have too

💜 You shouldn’t suffer in silence or alone.

💜 HABITUAL CHEATERS WON’T CHANGE

And thus ends a 10 year tale of a strong AF girlie who is owning a new, better phase of HER life.

She rescued herself from the damn tower, set her daughters free, reacquainted herself with her besties and picked up a cutie on the way out to get Starbucks.

I’m writing new pages in a book I thought I’d finished and I’m excited to see the life that’s out there waiting for me. I’m excited to reacquaint myself with myself again. I’m excited for new experiences, better relationships with everyone around me and not having to wear shoes inside to avoid the broken egg shells and bits of ego on the floor.

And him? Feeling sorry for himself I guess. Or not. I’m not sure and I don’t think I care to find out.

Maybe he’s realised what he’s lost, maybe he’s awake in the middle of the night languishing in pain, maybe he’s grieving or maybe he’s just fine and couldn’t care less.

Either way, my thoughts don’t live there anymore, they live with me.

“You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same cursing my name, wishing I stayed… You turned into your worst fears…

And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain and crossing out the good years… and you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed… Look at how my tears ricochet” - Taylor Swift

[talesfromthegraavim]

OF K-RATS AND LEMONS

This story begins, as most here do,  with a man. This man had left behind a great many things, not the least of which was his Name in the Beforetimes, but what he had chosen to bring with him into the present was a large military-issue rucksack filled with scavenged K-rations. And when this man stumbled upon our PigHeart that was the name he gave to our Revved Gra, She Who Knows, Called Grace. 

“Who are you, child?” She said in her high sandy voice, extending the Hand Of Friendship to Him The First Uffornate.

“I’m not nobody. Just a K-Rat Hound.”

From that day he was called K-Rat, The First Uffornate, and he was tasked to tend the lemon trees at the base of our mountains. This job was no small one, for the lemon trees needed protection and careful tending, and reaching The Home if there was a ‘Vasion or a Breech was difficult. But he did his tending well, coaxing those stubborn trees into growing, multiplying, strong and fruitful, guarding them from the Ruddy-Damn Goats and mischievous children. For years it was only K-Rat living in a small cave-hut in view of his Orchie, he only visited The Home at Storytime and after Harvest twice a year.

K-Rat was a young man, tending delicate saplings until one day he looked around to realize that his saplings were tall, strong trees heavy with fruit and leaves, having many grand-saplings of their own. When he looked into the warbling water of the irrigation canal he saw himself, greying and grizzled and bearded and a part of him wished to cry. In this same rippling reflection he saw a shadow in the tree overhead, and he rose to shout his customary grump. 

His grump startled the small girl so badly that she fell arse-over-bucket and K-Rat had to catch her in his arms, lest she broke her neck. The girl was thin and knobbled at the joints, with lemon-yellow hair and brown eyes, and she chirped at him that she’d only wanted to see her namesake. This deeply confused K-Rat, because as far as he had been aware nobody in The Home even knew his name, much less cared enough to name a child after him. 

“And who is your namesake, you knob-kneed dollop?”

The little girl looked like she wanted to cry, so frightened was she by his fierce scowl and rough appearance, “M’name’s Lemontree, but Ma and Oppa call me Lem. Or sometimes Lemtart when I’m bein trouble.”

K-Rat couldn’t help but chuckle at her wide eyes and the gooberyness of her name. Lemontree? Of all things, her sandmad Ma called her Lemontree. “How many times have you heard your Story, little sapling?”

She chirped at him, trepidatious, that she was First Grease and had heard her Story five times. Her ma, she said, had named her Lemontree because Ma had been poked with a lemon tree branch to bring her into this world, and because she’d been born with yellow hair and brown eyes. “Just like a Lemon Tree for true.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From that moment on K-Rat saw Little Lem near-constantly, the young girl was raptured by her namesake and the Grizzly Man who kept them. He grew, stubbornly, to adore her, and was glad to hear her chirping song in the Orchie.  One day, years later, around Harvest Time his Lemling - for he refused to call her by her fullname or Lem, she was his Lemon Sapling, his Lemling- skipped her way into the Orchie and tugged K-Rat by the sleeve, begging and wheedling for him to come Home and stay for Storytime this year. It was, after all, her Twelfth Story and now she was on the road to Becoming Second Undercolyte.  K-Rat was hezzy about it, he hadn’t for true stayed for The Story in many years, but he grudgely hobbled up the Stair Road after her, his customary Harvestbasket heavy at his back. 

Grace welcomed him as she had every year, offered Hand Of Friendship as she had every year, and a place at the fire. Grace had prepared the usual Rationpack for him, the provisions which would see him through the next Storytime, and expected the Grizzly Man to refuse, as was his custom, but she grinned loony to see him be tugged down beside the excitable girl. Grace watched over them the whole night through, smirking when K-Rat shared his precious Mokee with her- the rare treat of rice dough and bean paste sweetened with beet sugar being a well-known favorite of his. It was plain for all to see that K-Rat loved that girl as much as his Trees, and no one was prouder of his love than Lem herself.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Further years downline, when Lem was a woman-grown and about to be Johanna-ed to a nice enough Uffornate Boy that had joined the Searchers as soon as he was off his medbed- she skipped down to the Orchie and K-Rat stumbled hard when he rose to greet her. 

“K, are you ‘thritic or something? What’s wrong?”

He smiled at her, soothing, and opened his arms to hug her, “Maybe so, my Lemling. It’s not many men that’ve heard all the Stories as me.”

Lem sniffed and pressed her head into his shoulder, knowing as well as him that he’d heard almost forty Stories when she’d first fallen out of his tree, and that was fifteen of her Stories ago. “You’re coming Home for my Johanna tomorrow, right K?”

K-Rat chuckled, rubbing her yellow hair, “With your Ma gone he’ll have to pry you out of my arms hisself, Lemling. May have to start the Stair Road tonight for my old bones to make it, but I wouldn’t miss it for all the fruit in the Orchie.”

“Keep telling you to come Upstairs and take space in mine. Leave the Orchie to me’n Fobber, you stubborn goat.”

He took a step back and braced her elbows with his hands, shaking his head at the familiar argument, “An’ I keep telling you, Lemling, that I’ll leave the Orchiecare to you and that boy when they find me crashed at the roots. Then three days and six pokes to make sure.”

They spoke under the shade of the lemon grove until nearly dusk when K-Rat walked her to the base of  the Stair Road to begin the pampering for her Johanna the next evening, promising that he’d just pack himself a bag and be following her shortly. “Gwan now, girl, ‘fore they send your Searcher for you. S’bad luck for him to see you before you’re Jo'ed. I’ll be right along.”

The next evening it was K-Rat’s job to put up a good struggle for Fobber, who crept in from the shadows to “steal” Lemling from him. He’d never admit it, but the struggle the old man put up was for more than just the Show, he only released his Lemling when she tapped the back of his hand with the rhythm that he’d taught her for knocking at his door. Forever ago, that had been. But K-Rat did finally let her go, his eyes joyfully heartbroken and wasting water. Like his trees she had grown tall and strong without his notice, and soon - Pinkbread Blessings Upon Her- she too might bear fruit. And here he was, an old grizzled man who had stolen years from Gods Themselves to watch her grow, seemingly destined to be alone but for his Orchie. 

He’d never managed to Steal Johanna himself, none had caught his eye enough to willfully separate from the peace and quiet of the Orchie. He regretted that a bit now, taking in the bliss on Fobber and Lem’s faces, maybe he should have tried. Given his Lemontree a playmate, maybe then this wouldn’t hurt so much.  If he had someone to stumble back to the Orchie with he wouldn’t feel so… so damned hollow. But hollow he was, and hollow were his smiles at Lemontree and Fobber as he watched them dance and feast before “sneaking” away, swapping bites of Pinkbread. 

K-Rat decided then that his job was fair-done, his Lemontree was happy, off to start a new life, and he pulled Grace aside in the shadows of the firelight.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a year after her Johanna that his Lemling skipped down the Stair Road into the Orchie, heartful with good news, and calling for him. 

Lemling peered around the Orchie, singing for K-Rat, and hopping from behind trees at suspicious shadows to startle him playfully, feeling like a Mite all over again so happy was her news. She didn’t have any cause to worry, not in her mind, after all Lemling and K-Rat had been playing Hide Games since she had heard five Stories. Lemling sang and called out, voice arching slowly to a panicked holler. For one abrupt moment it stopped, the Searchers and The Half that were stationed on Patrol near the Orchie huffed in relief, and then Lemontree, K-Rat’s Lemling, began to scream. A horrid, animal-grief scream that never seemed to end, not even when they raced down the Stair Road and pulled her away from him. Lemontree, four Stories gone with her third pregnancy, had hauled him out of the Irrig Stream and desperately pounded on his cold, wet chest, shrieking at him to come back.

But K-Rat, He Who Was The First Uffornate, Keeper of The Orchie, was long gone. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lemontree raged at the Revved Gra and the Council when they took K-Rat away to be burned, fought them every step they took toward fulfilling his wishes. They couldn’t skin him, she refused to allow it, but they produced the bit of paper that bore his last words to her and the absolute dictation of his Last Rites. 

She frightened Fobber with her ferocity, he reached for her stomach and pleaded with her to remember the Ones Before It, to calm herself if only for the baby she carried. Lemontree, with featherlight fingertips on her swelling belly, took a deep breath and went utterly silent. Her tears stopped on a grain, and no word or sound would pass her lips again for the next five Stories. When the time came for the child to be born Lemontree gathered herself and a blank Cordbook, fleeing silently to the Orchie in the dead of night, seeking her Home Of Homes instinctually. She gripped tightly to the Cordbook, her only companion through the pains, and uttered not a sound as she labored against a lemon tree. It was nearly noon when, with a deep guttural roar, her daughter was born. Lemontree, K-Rat’s Lemling, heaved great breaths through her nose and wiped the viscera from her child with one hand, the other scrabbling for the handle of K-Rat’s knife.

The tiny girl, with the last cord to her mother severed and her mouth clean, howled lustily. As all newborns do, she wanted nothing more than the warmth and nourishment of her mother, who hushed her and rocked her as she was brought to breast.

Lemling stared down at her daughter, so much in awe and pain that she paid no mind to the yelling of Searchers, The Half and Fobber from the Stair Road above her, “You are born Second Zebra, Full Moon. You are alive, Kayra Orchieborn, daughter of Lemontree and Fobber, named for The Man Who Was My Father.”

#tales from the graavim #K-Rat and Lemling

[mudaconstructions]

episode 13 pt 1 review

tl;dr it was alright, the fights were fun and i missed the star road gang hanging out together. some stuff really sucked though. more under the cut

yeah it's alright. the e ve section dragged on a bit too long and the whole weeby obviously jujutsu kaisen inspired atmosphere kinda got on my nerves by the end though.

my favorite part was the star road now gang finally having pizza together after 10 years, it really stood out to me as the highlight of the whole thing tbh; i really needed to see some cute wholesome jonah and grace moments and this episode definitely delivered on that (i know episode 12 pt 2 had them as well but they were overshadowed by the Awful Thing That Led To Them Happening), it's nice to see how the group dynamic still feels familiar but also kinda new? now that two of the couples in the party have kids and all that

idk what happened to papa pep between star road now and severed strings but he is somehow more unhinged than before. love him for it

holy shit i hate tokyo ghetto i hate children and i hate severed stands

yogurt being a funny little menace and getting an actual backstory was really nice! another highlight of this episode. the flashback really affirms how scary he can be when he wants to and the way he killed his owner was fucking nuts. this dog could run me over with his trolley transformer stand and id throw treats at him. also his speech about looking for the stick and finding it has grown into a big tree with fruits at the top went so hard

the "still underground" fight was fine? i still kinda hate severed stands and the way their stand ability was so... meh? didnt gel with me but by god it was a goldmine of fun character interactions. i'd let left brain hephi throw a taxidermied bear at me!!!!! also left brain yogurt running everyone over with hound's hologram went so hard

by far my least favorite part of the episode was the whole shit with "as you like it" oh my GOD i did not think they could ruin a fucking joke character but they somehow did it??? "as you like it" is a severed stand as well as a wearable one, so the only way it can exist now is by possessing unwilling participants (sth they admitted to) and taking over their personality. and Take A Guess at Who Got Possessed! it's october's sister, papa pep's rival from srn, some woman we dont know about yet, simon peppers, gen and nick lastley

now why does nick lastley matter you might ask? because apparently according to as you like it, he's the one who's stuck with this glove stand on his head for the rest of his life. and if you thought that was bad, the justification behind this was that lastley would've got himself injured or worse on his own? like idk say what you want about nick but if he somehow made it out alive after 10 years off screen idk maybe hes doing just fine by himself? and the worst thing about it is that.... the party is just. okay with it. they dont protest or demand that as you like it leaves lastley alone, theyre just like "well you need to work on getting consent from the people you possess" and theyre like "yeah youre right sorry" and IT'S NEVER ADDRESSED? but noooo were all for overlooked dreams and freeing stands am i right? this totally doesnt reflect badly on the organization or the party in any way shape or form. idk how they did it but they somehow involved the severed stand bullshit with a joke character and made them worse? and less funny? it's fucking nick lastley how do you screw it up. just as i thought it couldnt get worse it somehow always does

mr ghana looks like a pink and blue boss baby. he looks edible so i will hereby crush him into fine saccharine powder and put him on my toast

yeah that's about it. this might probably be the best episode since the Vard Reveal and it's only because it's largely disconnected from the main plot so think of that what you will

#text post #long post #severed strings

[k-dokja]

Please we want more about Owen Knight 😩🙏💗

I'm combining these because work smarter not harder.

The grin on your lips borderlined evil. Even if you volunteered to be a decoy, Owen remained determined with his hounding of Shelly and Jay. Fair enough, you guessed, he wouldn't see you coming with that tunnel vision. The plan you executed was perfect down to the minute detail.

He neither saw it coming or had time to react when it happened.

“Goddamnit, I can't believe we lost track of them,” Owen muttered sourly but you couldn't help the looming grin from gracing your lips.

In fact, you had to turn away to hide your celebration. While you couldn't care less about getting the other two alone time, messing with Owen was too good to pass on. And with the bribe Jay slipped you earlier, It'd only be fair for you to lend a helping hand with the situation.

The only problem was that you were left alone with Owen by the end of it. Something you needed to remediate.

“Damn... That's tragic,” you extended him the courtesy of faux-sympathy, “not for me though, you stay safe out there.”

With that, you made way towards your quick escape. However, Owen got the upperhand this time around.

“Ah, ah, not so fast,” he grabbed your by the back of your collar, yanking you back before you got the chance to get away, “what do you think you're doing?”

Barely, you regained your balance after staggering back, looking every ounce as oblivious as you pretended to be. “Leaving?” You feigned surprise at his interrogation. “The other two are already gone, what's the point of me being here?”

“You must have helped them left somehow, tell me where they went,” Owen yanked you back again, but his grip stopped you from sprawling on the ground. “Do you think this is funny?”

Frankly yes, but telling that wouldn't help your situation. “Dude, do you even hear yourself? You sound obsessive.”

Owen’s eyes widened in anger at your careless insult. For a moment, his hold on your collar tightened. However, before you had the chance to worry, he released you with whatever trace of his anger vanished. All without any care for your landing.

At least, you got an impeccable sense of balance.

“Whatever, just go.”

You took the chance to scurry away. That was the plan anyway, until you looked back at him. Curse you and your last crumb of sympathy in your shriveled heart. While you couldn't see Owen with anything but distaste on normal days, something about the downtrodden expression on his face stopped you from leaving him behind.

Ugh, you really were going to pity the devil. “Come on,” you marched back towards him before you were even thinking straight, “let’s go.”

Owen was slow to respond until you grabbed his wrist, “What are you doing?” He frowned stoically but didn't stop you from dragging him along.

“What does it look like? We're going to see a movie.” You announced brazenly, better to save the politeness for someone deserving of it.

“Don’t pity me," Owen pulled you back using your hold on his wrist, pausing you momentarily in your track. “I don't need your sym—”

You rolled your eyes openly, “You think I have a single care for you in my heart? I wanted to go see a movie and you happened to be there, what else is there to it?”

“We don't even like each other...” He grumbled and you had half the mind to leave him to his own device again. “...but if you wanted my company that badly then I suppose I had time to help the unfortunate.”

His audacity. His arrogance. His narcissism. Ugh, your heart was truly the size of a globe. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Your Highness, let's go.”

In response to your goading, Owen shrugged out of your hand. You had thought he disliked the contact, but then he slipped his hand into yours and dragged you along instead. You were the one surprised this time around.

“Come on, I heard there's a new Marvel movie premiering.”

His... standard taste aside, you couldn't help but notice how his hand fit with yours. Almost comfortable in how warm it was wrapped around your hand.

You squashed the thought down before it got the chance to become prominent. Nothing would come of this, it was an one-time thing. Neither of you could tolerate each other outside of this occasion. Whatever happened here was persist.

“We are going to see Avengers, right?” Owen turned to confirm with a genuine smile on his lips. It was strange how far more attractive he suddenly became when he was excited.

You really needed to set your mind straight, this was going down a path no one wanted.

With your nonsensical mind pushed down again, you mirrored his grin with your own. “Whatever you wanted, Your Highness.”

In hindsight, you shouldn't have let His Highness took whatever he wanted. Especially when you had witnessed firsthand how greedy he was.

#owen knight #owen knight x reader #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker x reader #fics

[psychee92]

Why I stand by Elriel, no matter what (even if SJM decides to go in a different direction)

Disclaimer: This post contains spoilers for ACOSF and Azriel’s POV

Because, despite everyone fearing him and his shadows, he was the one to put Elain at ease during the dinner scene in ACOMAF.

Because Elain made him smile during that same scene, and their conversation revealed more about Azriel’s inner thoughts and preferences (what it’s like for him to fly) than Feyre’s POV.

Because she was genuinely interested in his answer.

Because he was gentle with her when she was in the most fragile state of mind.

Because, when he flew her down from the House of Wind, he carried her in through the front door.

Because she called his scars beautiful.

Because he offered her his arm, and was as “graceful as a courtier.”

Because he offered to show her the garden—out of everyone, including her sisters, he was the only one to offer to show her the gardens when she needed them the most.

Because he stood by her side in silence, sunning his wings and reading his reports while keeping her company in the garden. Neither spoke, but both were comfortable in each other’s presence.

Because he was the only one to truly listen to her. When everyone else believed that Elain was slowly going mad and speaking nonsense, Azriel took her seriously and asked her the right questions.

Because he was the only one who managed to tether her to reality when she was struggling to make sense of her visions.

Because he was the only one who listened to her words and saw a gift, not madness.

Because he was the one who figured out that she was a seer—his realization was what freed her from the murky realm where dreams and reality blended together.

Because he “went still” when he saw her.

Because he, without anyone asking him to, offered to take her out to the garden.

Because he genuinely wanted to spend time with her, and seemed to enjoy doing so.

Because she has never been afraid of his shadows.

Because he is always gentle when he touches her, “as if afraid that his scars will hurt her.”

Because he is the only one who notices that she has been taken by the Cauldron. Not even Nesta thinks of Elain, but Azriel does.

Because he doesn’t hesitate before risking his life to save her. Feyre didn’t offer to go rescue Elain until Azriel announced that he would.

Because he came for her, when no one else would.

Because she “devours” the sight of him, not quite believing that he’s actually there.

Because during their escape, they fight as a unit to save Briar and keep Azriel airborne. Elain holds on to Briar tightly, and kicks the hound off Azriel’s wings with her bare feet, while his shields protect her from Hybern’s attack.

Because he “cradles her to his chest” the whole way back to the camp, despite his injuries and the fact that she is able to walk on her own.

Because, when they arrive back at the camp, his first thoughts are for her comfort, not his injuries. When Rhys mentions that he needs a doctor, Azriel tells him that someone needs to take the chains off Elain.

Because she kisses his cheek in gratitude.

Because when he sees how scared she is of battle, he gives her Truth-Teller, knowing that she cannot walk into a battlefield unarmed.

Because he has never let anyone touch that blade in 500 years, but he lets Elain borrow it.

Because she trusts him enough to take it.

Because her smile lights up his shadows.

Because he takes the heavy dish from her hands and does not let anyone touch the food until she joins them at the table.

Because he has never before cared about waiting for everyone to be seated.

Because he is the first one to approach her during the Solstice celebration, when he sees her sitting by the window by herself. 

Because she gives him a Solstice gift.

Because she pays enough attention to him to notice how he always rubs his temples.

Because she went out of her way to ask Madja to make the powder for his headaches.

Because she made him laugh, a joyous sound that Feyre had never heard before. So much so that his eyes turned gold.

Because when everyone else has gone upstairs (at 3 AM), he stays in the living room with her, listening to her talk about future plans for her garden.

Because he is genuinely interested in what she loves.

Because he always shows concern for her, and is protective of her.

Because his shadows feel the need to protect her, as well, when they think that she’s in danger/hurt.

Because he’s guided by the sound of her laughter.

Because something “charged” goes through them when they make eye contact.

Because her breath catches when she looks at him and sees what’s in his eyes.

Because he cannot bear the thought of her with anyone else.

Because he cannot stand the scent of her mating bond.

Because he gives her a Solstice present, one that was picked out with her in mind.

Because she gives him a Solstice present for the second year in a row—another thoughtful, practical gift that he needs and can use.

Because her hand shakes when she gives it to him.

Because he has kept the headache powder she gave him last year on his nightstand instead of using it, and has stared at it every night since.

Because they understand each other without having to say a word.

Because he wants to kiss her.

Because she wants to kiss him just as badly.

Because he thinks that they should be mates, instead, and goes as far as to question the Cauldron’s judgement, something that is considered a sacrilege in their culture/world.

Because he thinks that she deserves the world.

Because he wants to be with her.

And she wants to be with him.

It’s as simple (and as complicated) as that.

#acosf spoilers #elain archeron #azriel #elriel #pro elriel #pro elain

[treasureswordsgirl55]

Teddy Bear

Character: Poe Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Mechanic!Reader

N° Fic of the year (2019): 1

Inspired by : Teddy Bear/Hound Dog - Elvis Presley (All shook Up Musical)

Warnings: Fluff. The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers. Mentions of Dealer. Funny things. Rey, Finn and Poe like best friends. (I need more of these three)

Author’s Note: 

Hello! Hello!! How are you doing?

Well, this is the first fic I posted in 2019 after I saw The Rise of Skywalker (I have mixed emotions about this movie) and my first fic on Tumblr like a fanfic writer so... It's special to me. I know that maybe this have a some things or is too short for my actual writing, but.. I love it!

So... I hope you like this one, and thank you for all the replies, it's means so much!!!

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

- So the best pilot of the resistance was a dealer. I didn't have you like that, Dameron

Raise my head like a spring when i hear that word. Did they say dealer?

Any kind of stories began to invade my thoughts and I began to really think alongside who I was. "Maybe I heard badly" I thought as I returned my attention to my workplace.

- I already told you Finn, I could continue all night discussing this - Poe's voice sounded confident with a hint of amusement in it in the distance. I did not see him joking something as serious as that - You are not in a position to discuss it.

- I mean, if we didn't know ... neither did she, right? - Silence invaded the Millennium Falcon followed by what sounded like grunts that did not come from Chewie.

- You wouldn't dare - All hint of grace disappeared from Poe's voice and I had a feeling that it would have to do with me.

A few seconds later, Finn came into my field of vision, smiling at me like he had a gift or a surprise for me.

- Did you know that your man was a dealer?

So I had heard right. I looked around at the person involved and the minute he appeared, leaning on one of the ship's controls, the second he sat down in front of Chewie, who was staring at the scene that was unfolding between us.

- It's not that bad as Finn says it - He approached me taking my arms at the same time that D-O emitted something like a growl. That droid had become my protector since BB-8 left with Rey.

-That he trafficked him? - My question is directed to Finn who gives a mischievous look to his best friend, who drops his head at the same time as he sighs.

- Droids - Rey yelled from the Halcon's cockpit.

- Servants for the Empire - Finn muttered as he passed and automatically turned away from Poe. 

What the hell...?

"Spices"  was the answer of BB-8 who turned to his owner as if he wanted to protect him.

- Could you stop confusing her? - Poe groaned as he stood next to Chewie with his arms crossed, like a little boy sulking because they took a candy from him.

- Which of them is the real one? Or is it something even worse? - I refused to think of anything worse but the expression of terror on Poe's face made me think of much worse things. Being a dealer was bad enough, but was there anything worse in that area?

Rey's guffaws and Chewie's grunts made him look suspiciously at the pilot who was already purple with anger.

- Spices - Finn stopped laughing at the same time that I let out the air that I didn't notice I was holding - Your man trafficked plants.

- They weren't plants, as you say.

- And much less is my "man" - Well, I wanted him to be but that only remained between me and my subconscious.

- And then what were they? - Asked the former stormtrooper and I glanced at the two men in the group and I could see how smoke literally came out of Poe's head, trying to find an answer to refute Finn. Or restrain the urge to rip the head off his best friend.

- Well, if they were plants, but they were worth too much for you to know - I shook my head as I returned to paying attention to C3PO, who still did not respond to my useless attempts to reconnect him. That terrible maneuver by Finn had destroyed the droid in one fell swoop - you'd be surprised how much they came to pay for a "plant" as you call it.

- Dealer, Pilot ... What else was, Commander Dameron? - My curiosity and that insatiable need to know more about him always left me in a position susceptible to his varied responses.

- I can be whatever you want, whatever you need - I heard a distant whistle from Finn who disappeared from our sight in an instant and I started again to ignore the seductive attempts of the attractive pilot.

- Even a teddy bear? - He jokes as she took the tool that was behind his back.

- If that includes ending up in your bed and snuggling up to me and hugging me, then I will - Finn and Rey's mixed laughter echoed throughout the Falcon, unleashing a wave of curses from Poe and unimaginable shame on my part. I stepped away from C3PO, wiped my hands off the droid oil, and patted Poe's chest.

- You just dug your own grave, Dameron.

He takes my hand before i can pull it away and pulls me closer to him, leaving only a few inches of separation between us. I passed my gaze from his eyes to his mouth and I wanted to be alone with him, maybe the idea of ​​the teddy bear was not so bad.

- You're thinking about it.

- What are you talking about?

- The stuffed animal. If you want to snuggle with me, you just have to say so.

- Dameron...

- It is simply an opinion of a genuinely possible fact - That innocent way of saying things so that I could not argue with him in the least.

All I got was a smile and a short kiss on the lips that didn't give me time to react. He separated with a smile from ear to ear and stayed a few meters from me.

- If you are done with your attempts to seduce my mechanic, I ask you to do me the honor of coming to the booth, Teddy Bear.

- At your command, Stormtrooper.

#star wars #fanfic writer #star wars sequel fic #star wars tros #star wars the rise of skywalker #star wars fanfiction #tros fic #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x oc #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x you #star wars fics #i write for myself but you can read it too #star wars universe

[sirianhewigxiii]

Folks, I wasn’t really going to write a full-blown analysis about this entire scene - but it somehow turned into one when I started putting down a minor comment I was planning on making about xD 

But I couldn’t help it, especially since I was hoping for something like this and the show delivered something even better...

First there’s Ironwood. He’s down and defeated, both physically and most likely mentally as well. Winter dragged him into the room in handcuffs, the modified version of his weapon on her back and maybe after she had thrown him into the cell she actually even helped him lie down once she had uncuffed him - who knows, either way she had locked him up now. She ended up having to lock him up and place a barrier between them.

So back to the beginning of the scene when we first get back to the cell room after the time stop, Winter is turned towards Ironwood’s cell and she was looking at her scroll and Jaune’s broadcast.

Still what was she doing before that? Was she probably just looking at Ironwood, thinking about how things ended up the way they did? 

I don’t think there’s any regret in her whatsoever, but maybe just a little sadness about what he has become, because at least at some point in her life he probably was the father she always wanted for herself - one that was nurturing her and listened to what she had to say.

So, we first see her turned towards Ironwood and a few seconds in the camera swings to the side and we see Jacques to Winter’s left. And so far Winter hasn’t even acknowledged him in the slightest, she was looking at her scroll, most likely Ironwood before that and she wasn’t even looking at him when she brought Ironwood in. 

Mind you, Jacques is an asshole who got what’s coming to him, but remember, he has no idea about anything that is happening right now and just for a split-second imagine what it must have been like for him to see Winter coming into the room where the cells are...And not only did she just come into the room - she was dragging in the very man he had once accused of ‘stealing her from him’ at the same time.

And it looks like, in a maybe desperate attempt to get to know about what was going on or maybe just to clutch at any last straw he thought he might have, he must have gotten up and walked to the edge of his cell. Still with how WInter was ignoring him he probably hadn’t dared saying a word up until Jaune’s announcement.

And only then Winter barely looked at him to reply and she even turned around to leave halfway - the strongest reason for that most likely being the fact that she was completely unwilling to talk to him and even what reply she had given him felt constrained as if she was forcing herself to do it. 

Still at this point it looks as if she was at least somewhat trying to at least relay what was necessary to him. But here’s where this entire first shot and the positioning come to play.

Not only is there only some large distance between them, but the perspective this is shown from has the corner-projector of the cell’s wall between them and the pillar looks like a thick black line that separates Winter and Jacques. And Jacques is at the edge of the shot and occupying the lesser space of the two.

If we go full symbolic: that thick line that devides them will most likely never disappear and always be there. Jacques has messed up too badly for that to happened. He had ruined Winter’s entire youth and put her through too much shit. Winter was disinherited when she joined the military, if we do some math here it must have been when she was 21. 

She entered Atlas Academy at the age of 17, had four years of training there and enlisted once she was done. 

We can figure that she must have been already in the military for at least a year or two, since Weiss had been the heiress in her stead for enough time for word to spread around by then. (Blake already knew Weiss in V1), so make her maybe 23 in V3 and since two years have past since the Fall of Beacon she is right now 25 years-old.

So she’s now 25 and for the first 21 years of her life she has suffered through his terror, we have seen some of his behavior through Weiss’ experience, but I can imagine that while Jacques still had a tight grip on Winter, she was the one taking the brunt of his outbursts and punishments on Weiss’ and Whitley’s behalf to protect them for a much longer time by then. Part of Weiss’ and Whitley’s conversation when we first met Whitley in V4 also suggests that the two younger siblings were mostly together most of the time until Weiss first became the second heiress and later on left for Beacon. 

Coming back to Winter that means that for the majority of her life Jacques was keeping her completely isolated, probably even from her siblings - Winter’s room was close enough for Willow to figure out how the Hound was closing in on Whitley in Jacques’ office, when Weiss had to walk quite a distance from her room to the office in V4 and we’ve seen Whitley had been dropping by Weiss’ room often enough in V4 to maybe suggest that his room isn’t too far from Weiss’. 

Winter left Schnee Manor for the military completely on her own, never having had a team at the Academy that we know of, never having had any friends she spoke of or rather having been denied all of those thing from, guess who Jacques who was most likely keeping tabs on everything she did at Atlas Academy. 

The first and only friend she had probably made only after freeing herself must have most likely been Penny. Penny who of her own had a special peculiar situation that set her apart from others.

And Weiss who had most likely noticed how Jacques was trying to keep in control of Winter even at the Academy, therefore left for Beacon, while officially coming up with some other excuse he wasn’t smart enough to see through.

And while a 17-year-old Weiss, who had been the heiress since she was probably 15 only, had the chance to more freely meet people, make friends and properly heal. Winter didn’t. 

Or rather she might have healed to some extend and moved forward with her life, but she has huge scars that will always remain and never disappear and so she will never forgive Jacques for what she has been through because of him.

Still when Jacques tries to reach out in desperation and gets zapped by the barrier, Winter slowly stops and actually gives him an answer to his question, even though she still doesn’t even look at him.

 So why did she still talk to him? Why did she go out of her way to tell him that they were going to come back for him (and Ironwood) once they were done saving everybody else? Because of Weiss. 

It’s only for a second but we clearly get to see Winter’s pain when Jacques thanks her and whatever he was trying to say afterwards to weasel himself into her good graces gets immediately shut down, when Winter turns around, directly looks at him for the first time and shuts him down with the truth. 

She only looks at him because the one thing she wants him to actually understand is that she wasn’t the one saving him. She makes sure that he clearly knows that she had nothing to do with it and that it was Weiss’ decision to save his sorry ass. If it was up to her, Winter would just simply leave him to rot here and it was only at her younger sister’s request that she didn’t.

And after that Jacques knows it too. You can visibly see him simply shutting down right after and the moment he realizes it.

For the first time he might have actually become aware of how much irreparabel damage he had done to his first child (or all of his children in general).

This wasn’t what he kept thinking of as Winter just running away and being unruly or Winter having been taken away from him by Ironwood. Jacques finally realized that Winter actually truly left because of him. Because he was fucking up.

And he realized that his life means nothing to her.

Actually absolutely nothing.

#rwby8 #rwby winter schnee #winter schnee #rwby8 winter #rwby8 winter schnee #rwby jacques schnee #jacques schnee #james ironwood #rwby james ironwood #general james ironwood #rwby james #rwby ironwood #rwby general ironwood #rwby8 ironwood #rwby8 james ironwood #rwby jacques #rwby

[cruciology]

Buttons

Requested by Anon: Could you do a Sandor fic where the reader is getting dressed for an event, Sandor sees her and some smut happens? Please?

You could already hear the beginnings of the party. You knew your younger sister would give you an earful about being late and embarrassing her in front of her betrothed, but you didn’t really want to go anyways. All the pretending to care what the Ladies had to say about anything, the Lords trailing their hands along your waist, and trying to avoid the royal family. You would much rather be in the kitchens, sneaking drinks with the staff and the guards. It was much more entertaining. As a bastard, you usually weren’t welcome at the fancy feasts and big parties, but Catelyn Stark wasn’t there to shove you into the background like she had your entire life. 

Honestly, you would have been on time had it not been for your stupid dress. You hated the ridiculous fashion in the capitol. Everything required a servant to help get into. What was the point of clothing you couldn’t put on yourself? You could call for a handmaid for help, but you were stubborn if nothing else. You had gotten nearly half the buttons done up but you couldn’t reach the ones further up and you were seriously debating just wrapping a shawl around your shoulders to cover the exposed skin when you heard your name from behind the closed door, along with a sharp knock. 

You held the front of your dress to keep it from falling forward as you pulled the door open. Your eyes traveled upwards, looking at the face of the Hound. 

“Prince Joffrey asked me to escort you,” The Hound explained. You huffed indignantly. “Is there a problem?” 

“I’m sure the prince is just destroyed by my absence,” You said, stepping back into your room. The Hound stayed in the doorway. 

“His Grace requested it on the behalf of your Lady Sister,” The Hound said. 

“Sansa can live without me for a few more minutes while I figure this damned dress out,” You said, annoyed. “I would rather not go at all. If one more stupid high born man tells me what a shame it is that I’m not true born, I’m taking your sword and slitting his throat.” 

The Hound said nothing. You looked at him in the reflection of the long mirror you stood in front of. When he realized you could see him looking at you, he looked away. You couldn’t help the pink that brushed your cheeks. 

“Well, are you going to help me or what?” You asked. He looked back at you in the mirror. 

“Isn’t that what the handmaids are for?” 

“Do you see any handmaids in here, Ser Clegane?” 

“I’m not a knight,” He bristled. 

“Sorry,” You said, turning towards him. “But I still require your assistance, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

He looked like he wanted to say no. You were a little surprised he didn’t. You thought he would say it wasn’t his job or what he was sent for, but instead, he stepped towards you. You watched his reflection. He paused for a long time, his hands just inches from you, his eyes on the exposed skin of your back, as if waiting for you to tell him to get away from you. 

Finally, his fingers found the lowest button. You felt a chill run up your spine as you felt his knuckles brush your back. His fingers were large and his skin was rough. You found yourself wondering how those fingers would feel somewhere else. Your cheeks burned brighter. 

“Shouldn’t let a man into your chambers when you’re not dressed,” He said as he did the next button. 

“And what about a hound?” You joked. 

“You’re lucky it was me the prince sent and not one of his other guards.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“These buttons would be going in a different direction,” He said. 

“I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman,” You said. He barked out a laugh.

“Not about to do anything to the Hand’s daughter,” The Hound said. “I like my head where it’s at.” 

“His bastard daughter.”

“You know your father better than I,” The Hound said. “That’s not a distinction that matters to Eddard Stark.” 

“Maybe not,” You shrugged. “But it does matter to the rest of the people in the capitol.” 

“What’s your point?” The Hound asked, finishing the last button. You noticed he didn’t step away from you. He still stood just as close. You could feel him behind you. 

“You don’t have to be as gentle as you think you do,” You said. You made eye contact with him in the mirror. He studied your reflection. You knew he wasn’t an idiot and you weren’t being subtle. 

You reached back, grabbing one of his hands in yours, placing it on your hip first, then guiding up the path of your stomach, then over your chest, his thumb tracing the curve of your breast. 

“You really this desperate to disappoint your father, girl?” The Hound asked, his voice almost a growl in his throat. 

“Maybe just desperate to be late to the party,” You said with a smirk. 

He took his hand away from you. “Find one of the other guards to help you get undressed, none of them will say no to a girl like you.” 

“And you are saying no?” You asked, spinning around to face him. He always looked a bit surprised when you made eye contact. You weren’t like Sansa, too afraid to even look at him directly. Even if he towered over you, he didn’t frighten you like he did everyone else. 

“Why do you want me to touch you?” He asked instead of answering. You laughed. 

“Why else?” 

“You’ve never been touched by a man,” He guessed. You didn’t want to admit he was right, but your silence confirmed it for him. You weren’t stupid enough to think that your ‘virtue’ meant anything to anyone but a man’s ego, but you were still embarrassed to admit it. “Plenty of other willing men.” 

“Are you not a willing man?” 

“I’m very willing,” He said. His hands found their way to your hips again. He pulled you against him, letting you feel the bulge pressed against your stomach. “But why are you?”

“You want a full explanation?” You asked. 

“Not really,” He said. He bent down, grabbing your thighs roughly as he lifted you. Just as quickly, you found yourself pressed into your bed, his large body over yours. You pressed your lips to his, showing him you meant what you said. 

You let your skirts pool up around your waist as you wrapped your legs around him. You could feel his rigid length under the cloth of his pants and you wanted nothing more to feel it all the way inside of you. You couldn’t help a moan that passed your lips as he rolled his hips against yours, giving you some much needed friction. 

“You like that?” He asked, his breath hot on your ear. You nodded furiously. He moved down your body, leaving rough, stubbled kisses on your skin and the cloth of your dress. His beard tickled your stomach and you felt a hot flush across your skin as he press a kiss onto the soft flesh of your inner thigh, just above your knee. He knelt on the floor as if in prayer before you on the bed. He pulled your body towards him, putting your thighs up on his shoulders. 

He kissed higher and higher on your thigh until you felt his hot breath on your center. He stood completely still, his hands pressed on your hips. You needed him so badly, you ached. You squirmed under his hands, making him laugh against your leg. 

“Impatient little thing, you are,” He said, kissing your thigh again. 

You were about to voice your protests when you felt his finger enter you, making you gasp. You twisted your fingers into his hair. He curled his finger inside of you, watching you as your back arched off the bed. 

He kissed the nest of curls before his tongue found your clit, making you cry out, holding tighter to his hair. He licked your slit as you rode his hand, enjoying the way you sounded as you got closer. 

He added another finger, his thrusts growing faster. Tears formed in your eyes, all the nerves in your body on fire in the best possible way. You had only felt this way alone, in your room with hand beneath your sheets in the dark. His tongue was lapping at your pussy sloppily, sounding like he had never tasted anything better. 

“Oh gods,” You cried out, your thighs shaking as you came, stars rising and bursting behind your eyes. 

Your breathing was ragged as he pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean. He helped you sit up, pulling your dress back down to cover you. He stood before you, helping you to your feet, his hand still on your back. You stood on your toes, your hands on his shoulders, to kiss him. You could taste yourself on his lips.

“Best get down to the party,” He said against your mouth. 

“This says otherwise,” You said, your hand slipping down to his hard cock, making him groan. He grabbed your wrist gently, but hard enough to pull it away. 

“Never had a virgin,” He said. “I’m going to take my time.” 

“You’re really going to make me wait?” 

“Until later,” He kissed you again before finally pulling away. He stepped back to the door, holding it open for you. You huffed again. He gestured for you to walk out before him. Just as you passed him, he gripped your arm, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “After this stupid thing, I’m going to rip every fucking button off.” 

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane x reader #the hound x you #the hound smut #the hound x reader #the hound fanfiction #the hound #sandor clegane fanfiction #sandor clegane smut #got #got smut #got fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones smut #game of thrones reader insert #reader insert #smut

[sneakybunyip]

I have a mandalorian prompt if you take them.... 🥺👉👈 I have looked everywhere but I can only find a few...I really want a story where Mand'alor Din finds his birth parents alive. Can you imagine their amazement, their son... who they haven't seen since he was little... now an undefeated warrior and a king of an entire creed, of an entire planet AND has a jedi son to boot!I really want more stories like this

Reunion (1300 words)

Din feels too small in the throne room that’s supposed to be his.

Din feels too big for the throne itself. It’s clearly made for slighter form than his.

He’s sitting on his cape. It’s uncomfortable. He tugs at it and finds its caught on his belt. He leaves it alone, letting it gently tug at his neck while he shifts around trying to find a comfortable position.

Grogu sits in the middle of the carpeted rug leading from the double-doors to Din’s new throne, acting like its a runway for his toy star cruisers. His burbling fill the empty space, joyful confetti that raises to the high ceilings.

Din smiles under his helmet. 

He has kept the helmet on since he landed on Mandalore, awkwardly holding out the dark saber that no one would take from him and that he didn’t want.

He kept telling them he didn’t want this life. Not for him. Not for his kid. Instead, they put him in this throne room, told him to take all the time he needed to get used to the idea...and here is where he would sit.

Forever probably, because I will never be used to this idea.

He turns the saber on. It hisses in his hand like a viper denouncing Din’s new title as strongly as Din. He cuts the air, watching the dark light streak with deadly ethereal grace. 

“Not bad, I guess,” he murmurs to himself. He prefers a blaster, or his pike, or literally anything else, but...

Grogu’s watching him. 

Grogu’s smiling...wide.

“No,” Din says, knowing what that smile means.

Grogu lets the star fighters floating all around him drop suddenly and he shoots a clawed hand out towards Din. The saber rattles in Din’s hand. His grip tightens.

“Hey,” Din growls. “Knock it off, ya lil womp rat!”

“Brrrp fwa!!” Grogu’s ears lower and he squints. 

No, you! He says. Or rather that’s what Din can feel in his mind. Din’s thankful Luke was tutoring Grogu here instead of a temple. He’s also thankful he taught Grogu how to communicate, if only to confirm what Din already suspects about the kid: He’s as stubborn as a reek in a rainstorm.

Suddenly Grogu’s hand drops. His head whips towards the door.

“Huh? What is it, kid?”

He feels Grogu broadcast his feelings to Din. 

Family. Grogu said. Family back.

Din stands up, walking towards the double-doors, picking up Grogu on the way. 

His heart sinks selfishly. “What do you mean? Your family?”

No. Yours.

“No,” Din says, almost too fiercely, too sharply. Grogu’s ears lower. “Sorry, kid, I don’t mean...it’s just...They’re gone. You’re my family.”

Din halts before opening the door, seeing a pair of shadows on the other side of the door. He hears whispering through the amplifier in his helmet.

“If he’s really here, we should wait until he comes out,” a feminine voice whispers.

“If he’s really in there, do you really want to wait another second to see him?” a deeper voice responds.

Din’s hand goes to the one of the door knobs, but his hand is shaking so badly he can’t bring himself to grasp it. He takes a step back.

Grogu lets out a gentle coo, then lifts both his hands as the doors fly open on his command, revealing the visitors on the other side.

Ice hits his veins...

Shock frays his nerves...

His heart which had been shattered for decades start to sweep itself back into a neat pile and begin the arduous task of repairing itself.

“Is it you?”

The question is asked by three people simultaneously: Din Djarin...Lupita Djarin...and Paolo Djarin...

“...Mom?...Dad?...”

Grogu lets out a sharp chuff and Din realizes his helmet is still on, a dark saber still in his hand. He quickly shoves the saber away and rips his helmet off faster than he’s ever wanted to. It falls with a heavy thud on the carpet. 

Beneath the helmet is a scruffy-faced man who has lived too many lifetimes in thirty some odd years he’s existed. And yet, at the same time, he looks like a frightened boy who watched his parents die at the hands of battle droids, and now, with large, soulful eyes, wants so very desperately to believe they somehow survived the attack.  

Truly it doesn’t sink in until Lupita and Paolo run towards him. They ignore the discomfort of hard beskar, heavily-armed holsters and a thick belt full of grenades and gadgets. They throw their arms around their son and he embraces them back, just as Grogu climbs onto his back so he’s not crushed by the affections.

“How...” his voice breaks.

“Your Jedi friend found us,” Lupita’s hair is more gray than black, but the ringlets tumble over her shoulders just as he always remembered them. Her nose wrinkles in that familiar way as she smiles brightly through shimmering tears. “He said the Force guided him there and so the Force would guide us back to you.”

“Luke did this?”

Paolo runs a hand through Din’s hair and Din realizes immediately his dad is fussing with it as he would every day before school. Din’s hair is always unruly, the helmet had nothing to do with it. And ironically, he inherited this from his father.

Paolo’s hair is as still dark as he remembers, but the bionic replacement eye is new. It’s very close to organic, but the vectors in the iris give it away. There are scars around one side of his face. They’ve long since healed. 

“I thought you were both dead.”

“It’s a long story, son,” Paolo says gently, giving up on his son’s hair and wraps a comfortable arm around Lupita, resting a hand on Din’s shoulder. “And we have plenty of time to explain later, but for now...”

“You’re a king!” Lupita says, brightly, looking around the throne room.

“Ah, sort of. I’m a lot of things. I’m a Mandalorian first...no...” Din let his tears run free, not bothering to wipe them away. “I’m your son first. I’m also a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and...a father.”

Grogu knows his cue and pops up from behind Din’s shoulder, letting out a loud pfffft sound to present himself. 

“Oh...” said Lupita coos and Din can hear her heart melting as she speaks. “Hello, little one...what’s your name?” She is already reaching for him and Grogu doesn’t hesitate to leap into her arms, eating up the attention shamelessly.

“Grogu,” Din says, proudly. “I’ve adopted him.”

“We’ve missed so much,” Paolo says, also not bothering to wipe the endless stream of tears away. “But no more. We are here now. And here we’ll stay, though...are we interrupting something?” Paolo sees the festive banners around the room and surely they walked by all the festitivies outside welcoming the Mand’alor who doesn’t want to leave his throne room. 

“No, you have excellent timing,” Din says. If there was any chance he was going to join the day-long festivities for his reign before, they were dashed now that his parents were here. “We all have long stories to tell. Don’t worry about the Mand’alor situation, I’ll-”

“The what?” The Djarins asked in unison.

Family! Grogu interrupts, wiggling out of Lupita’s arms Family Play! The Negotiator! The Falcon! The Hound’s Tooth! The Razor Crest!

Grogu toddles over to his pile of toy ships and plops down, waiting expectantly.

“Grogu wants to know if you two would like to play what he calls ‘star wars’ with him.”

Paolo purses his lips, and it looks as if he may break down into sobs, which, Din knows, is a very valid reaction at how darling Grogu can be during emotional times. 

Lupita rubs Paolo’s back, holding herself enough together to say. “We would love to. May I be the Negotiator?”

Paolo sniffles and follows Din and Lupita. “I declare the Falcon.”

DIn looks back at Grogu who is already floating the Razor Crest possessively. 

“Stuck with the Hound’s Tooth again, huh kiddo?” Din asks.

Grogu lets out a proud grrrruuuuuu! 

-----

@permanently-exhausted-witcher thank you so much for this writing prompt! I wasn’t actually taking prompts at the time, but this prompt broke my heart in the best ways so I hope you enjoy!

#The Mandalorian #Grogu #Din Djarin #Din's Parents #bunyipwrites

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar. 

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone. 

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work. 

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers. 

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea. 

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues. 

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon. 

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional. 

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises. 

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far. 

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him. 

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.” 

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?” 

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.” 

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.” 

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.” 

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?” 

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor. 

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good. 

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.” 

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.” 

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon. 

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself. 

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. 

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.” 

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked. 

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you. 

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch. 

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” 

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done. 

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by. 

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job… 

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing. 

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done. 

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made  your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess. 

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available. 

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus. 

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had. 

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow. 

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch. 

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly. 

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride. 

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard.. 

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months. 

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now. 

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air. 

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them. 

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him. 

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing. 

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name. 

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light. 

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.” 

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.” 

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes… 

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.” 

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him. 

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was. 

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal. 

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago. 

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching. 

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all. 

#Obey me #obey me smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey me fanfiction #Obey Me! #I just want to give this angel all the love and sex he deserves #11 planned chapters so far #Please enjoy the sin #my writing #obey me simeon

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part IX

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 2,883

Note: Sorry for the delay :(

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8

“I’m glad nothing serious happened to you or your friend.” Tyrion poured himself some wine and you accepted to drink with him.

“Me too.”

“I know you are a hero but I sense something else here... why you keep taking those risks for her?” He curiously asked.

“She has no one...” That was true, still, you were trying to keep your feelings buried.

“You love her.” You hid your blush behind the silver cup. He chuckled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. She seems to be a good Lady. With all that your brother has done to her having you is a blessing.”

“You... you’re okay with it?” Loving her in secret was one thing but saying it out loud to someone was a different one.

“Of course! I could never judge you. You don’t dictate your heart, you have all my support, Y/N.” He warmly smiled, you bent down to hug him. This is one of the many reasons you love your uncle so much.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“Now I fully understand why you did that yesterday. Does she know?” He walked to the balcony gesturing you to follow him.

“No. And maybe it’s all in my head.” You brushed it off. “She sees me as her very good chum who saves her from my horrendous family.”

“Or perhaps she’s just afraid to admit it. After all, you are the princess. It’s not that easy. You’ll figure it out.” He tapped your shoulder. Could Sansa really feel the same? Nothing’s impossible, you just have to give it time and be patient. But with the way she looks at you... how you find comfort in her embraces... how she gently touches your hand...

You made your way to the Stark girl’s room to check on her just to find the door wide open and a scared Sansa with the bed stained of blood, her nightgown had red stains too.

The Hound was there, you scowled. You knew he was going to tell Cersei, and that was the last thing the redhead wanted. Shae arrived shortly.

“Good morning.” You said.

“Princess.” Sandor and Shae greeted. Your gaze landed on Sansa, the tears were threatening to come out. She didn’t say anything.

“I will inform the Queen.” He stated and left. Sansa threw herself into your arms. You could feel her tensing and quivering.

“Hey hey, it’s gonna be fine. He’s not gonna touch you.” You promise her, you would do anything to keep him away from her, even if that meant being punished.

“You should take a bath before you meet her grace.” The young handmaid said.

“I’m going to wait outside until you are finished, then I’ll escort you to my mother’s chambers. Don’t worry, my lady. I got you.” You assured. Her features relaxed and you gave her a small nod.

You tried to come with excuses for your mother to not force her to carry Joffrey’s babies immediately but nothing with a valid point seemed to be compelling enough.

After she was done you headed to her big room. “How is your wound?” You added to soothe the hike.

“Better. You are a very good healer.” She shyly answered.

“One of my many gifts.” You winked to ease her nerves. The Queen Regent was already expecting her, yet she was not very surprised when you showed up behind Sansa, you let her entered first.

“My love, what are you doing here?” Cersei asked you, raising her eyebrow.

“I... thought I’d give Lady Sansa some advice, I flowered almost two years ago. I know it is grubby at first.”

“It certainly is. But her mother prepared her, didn’t she?”

“She told me. I thought... it would be different.” Sansa confessed.

“In what way?” You both took a seat.

“I thought it would be less... less messy.”

“Wait until you birth a child. You’re a woman now, do you know what that means?”

“I’m fit to bear children for the King.” Yes, your heart was breaking again.

“Is there any rush?” You intervened and Cersei faked a sympathetic smile.

“The sooner the better.” She made a flick for you to keep your mouth shut. Your jaw tensed. “A prospect that once delighted you. The greatest honor for a queen. Joffrey has always been difficult. Even his birth, I labored one day and a half to bring him into this world. You cannon imagine the pain. I screamed so loud I was sure Robert would hear me in the Kingswood.”

“His grace was not with you?”

“Robert was hunting. Whenever my time was near, he would flee to the trees with his huntsmen and his hounds. The only time he was with me was when Y/N was born. I’ll always remember how she wrapped her little hand around his finger, she smiled at him and that was the only time in my life I saw a tear fell from his cheek. It was too emotional.”

You missed him so badly, the stories he used to tell you about Westeros, the adventures he had when he was a young Lord, the thrill in his eyes when he saw you swing the sword for the first time, he taught you all about archery, about bravery. When you were feeling low because of Joffrey and your mother he would carry you in his arms and then ride far from the city in your horses. You missed those days cause in the dark moments he was your hero.

“You never told me that before.”

“You were your father’s favorite.” Then she referred to Sansa. “Joffrey will show you no such devotion. You may never love the King but you will love his children.” She told her calmly.

“I love his grace with all my heart.” Sansa lied in her usual innocent voice.

“That’s very touching to hear. Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this special day. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t do. You’ll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children. On that front, a mother has no choice.” Was it so hard for Cersei to love you as much as she loved your siblings? To support you and be there for you?

“But shouldn’t I love Joffrey, your grace?”

“You can try, little dove. My sweet daughter here, she will be marrying some Lord very soon. I think it’s time for you to start your own family.” The blonde abruptly added. Sansa felt her stomach twist itself into an uncomfortable knot.

“That means I will have to leave you, mother.” You complained. Cersei doesn’t want to end up alone, Jaime is a prisoner, you don’t know if you’re going to see him again. But she doesn’t want you to abandon her, deep down does she care? A question you often ask yourself.

“You grew too fast. You are my oldest daughter, any man who has your heart will be very lucky. Many of them are interested in you.” Your eyes were set only on Sansa Stark, even if you couldn’t be together.

“But I’m not interested in them.” You pointed out. Was she trying to send you away just because you were willing to keep protecting Sansa at all costs, or did she really wanted to get rid of you?

You and the northerner walked out. You let go of those thoughts. Focusing on her again you broke the silence. “There’ll be a battle soon. My uncle’s army will arrive anytime. Joffrey is going to be busy. I’m always here for you, Sansa.” You reassured once more, for her to know she’s not alone.

“I feel trapped. But when you’re around... you make everything better.” Hearing that made you feel a wave of joy. She blushed and gods, your face was the color of her hair too.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” You said smiling sincerely at her. She smiled back at you.

The following days passed so very fast, now you were helping uncle Tyrion do some researching on books to find information to use for the incoming battle. The King himself apparently is occupied torturing people and animals to care for his Kingdoms. Bronn was there too, your uncle thought he’d come with some ideas for the defense of the city.

You were distracted, to say the least, your mind wandering in the redhead beauty, in how she seemed to be troubled almost all the time.

“Dear niece, I need your cleverness.” You came out of your trance.

“We are very lucky to have you as Hand of the King, uncle, otherwise we’d be doomed. And I mean it, no sarcasm. I want to join you in the field.” Tyrion wasn’t expecting to hear that statement. You knew you could be effective.

“What? Absolutely not. The last time in the riot the gods were good and you were unharmed. This is way different. I know you are brave, just like Robert was, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Let alone the fact your mother won’t allow it.”

“I can take care of myself. Joffrey won’t last a moment there. Maybe I can coax him to fight along his men.”

“I wish you could. He won’t listen.”

“I’ll do it anyway.”

“So stubborn. My brain might explode before I find something helpful. ‘A History of the Great Sieges of Westeros.’ By Archmaester Shevelathin. Shevelatesh.”

“Ch’Vyalythan.” You corrected him.

“Are you sure?” You shrugged.

“My Princess. Lord Hand. Commander. I must compliment you on the Gold Cloak’s performance last few weeks. Did you know there has been a marked drop in thievery?” Lord Varys said entering the room.

“How did you accomplish this?”

“Me and the lads rounded up all the known thieves.” Bronn nonchalant replied.

“For questioning?”

“No. It’s just the unknown thieves we need to worry about now.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Have you ever been on a city under siege? Maybe this part is not in your books. See, it’s not the fighting that kills most people. It’s the starving. Food’s worth more than gold. The thieves love a siege. Soon as the gates are sealed they steal all of it. By the time it’s all over, they’re the richest men in town.”

“Yes, I believe extreme measures are warranted. Ah ‘The Great Sieges of Westeros.’ Thrilling subject, shame archmaester Ch’Vyalthan wasn’t a better writer.” Varys referred to the big book on the table.

“Uncle Stannis knows King’s Landing, he knows where we are the strongest and where we are the weakest. We need to be cautious. Take him down before he arrives at the gates.” Now you were focusing, strategy was essential.

“That’s it! The Mud Gate. A good ram will batter it down in minutes, and it’s only fifty yards from the water. That’s where he’ll land.” Tyrion affirmed certainly.

“If he does attack at the Mud Gate, what is our plan?” Varys curiously inquired. Tyrion looked at you, and then back at him.

“Wildfire.” He said.

After discussing the tactics you went to share some time with Sansa, she is one of the few people who gives you peace. Little Tommen was on his reading lessons. She was embroidering a red scarf with two lions on the top. Your heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Shae is not here?”

“I dismissed her an hour ago.” Then she stood up. “A present for you.”

“Why do I owe the pleasure?” You admired her flawless needlework.

“Because you always save me. You are always there for me. I don’t know how can I ever repay you.”

“You don’t have to, you know I do it cause I love you I’m your friend. But I appreciate the gift though. It is a very fine design.” She flushed, seeing her like this is very cute.

“You think... your brother is going to defeat Lord Stannis?”

“Brave men will fight. I have faith in them and in my uncle’s plan. I-I might... get involved.”

“Is this a bad joke?” She looked at you perplexed.

“I’m afraid is not.”

“Y/N, you could die! You are strong but still too young to go to war. And you are a princess.” Sansa winced. You squeezed gently her arm.

“I won’t die. I heard uncle Renly had in his Kingsguard a female warrior. And what about Visenya Targaryen? She was a fantastic skilled warrior as well. She fought alongside Aegon in his conquest, and in the First Dornish War. Also, she was a dragon rider, she bonded with the one called Vhagar. And had a Valyrian steel longsword named Dark Sister. I wish I had one.” You commented, utterly excited. Sansa didn’t really like the topic but her eyes lighted up every time you talked about something you were passionate about.

“You never cease to amaze me, you know so much about these things. I understand now why Arya and you got along so well.” And it’s true, you wished she was here, you missed the youngest Stark girl running around the castle. “But still, I don’t like the idea of you being out there. It’s too dangerous. You said you weren’t going anywhere.” She mumbled the last sentence.

“Trust me.” You held her hands on your own.

“Just be careful, please. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I will be. And I’ll never leave you.”

You were walking side by side with the King, Varys, and Tyrion on the eastern walls.

“If my uncle Stannis lands on the shores of King’s Landing, I’ll ride out to greet him.” Joffrey smugly spoke.

“A brave choice, your grace. I’m sure your men will line up behind you.” Tyrion subtly jeered.

“They say he never smiles. I’ll give him a red smile from ear to ear.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t stand a chance against him on his own. Lord Varys and your uncle began to converse with each other.

“Hey, Y/N. I heard you want to join us in the fight.” He said in a mocking way.

“You think I’m not capable?”

“Exactly. You are a woman. Not that I really care about what happens to you. You’ll die out there.”

“You have little faith in me, big brother. But still, I’m way better than you in almost everything.” You squinted your lips. “No! In absolutely everything. Don’t worry, I’ll pray for our victory.”

“I already know your whore friend has flowered. I’ll come to visit her right after I kill our uncle.” He hissed and you didn’t punch him right away right there cause you held back your fury. He was provoking you, you would get your knuckles bloody for Sansa if he goes too far.

“...They say he burns his enemies alive to honor the Lord of Light.” You joined the conversation between the two men.

“The Lord of Light wants his enemies burnt. The Drowned God wants them drowned. Why are all the gods such vicious cunts? Where is the god of tits and wine?” Tyrion wittily questioned.

“In the Summer Isles, they worship a fertility goddess with sixteen teats.” Varys responded.

“We should sail there immediately.” You smirked.

“Lord Varys, do you know anything new about the Targaryen girl?" Some nights you wonder, if your father hadn't won the Rebellion she would be here, this would be her home, she was exiled so she could survive, she was forced to marry a savage, her family is dead, the world is such a cruel place... and when you are a helpless girl it gets worse, what if things had turned out differently? And you were the one on the other side of the world, maybe that's one of the main reasons why you sympathized with her.

“This morning, I heard a song all the way from Qarth beyond the Red Waste. Daenerys Targaryen lives.”

“That’s a relief.” You said.

“A relief? She has three dragons. But even if what they say is true, it’ll be years before they are fully grown. And then there will be nowhere to hide.” Varys argued.

“She’s on the edge of the world, the least of our problems.” Uncle Tyrion tried to sound unconcerned.

“Three baby dragons? How is that possible?” They were extinct for almost three hundred years. How she managed to bring them back?

“Princess, do you consider it was wise to let her live? If you knew then what you do now... would you persuade his grace to give the order? She might be a threat soon enough, she will claim the throne-“

“Maybe she’s not interested in it. Not everyone is. Especially the rightful heirs. She did nothing wrong.”

“Yet.”

“I don’t regret my choice. I wouldn’t change it if I could.” You were confident, she’s innocent, one game at the time, you thought. Just because her ancestors were evil doesn’t mean she is evil too.

“You are so selfless, and good. Westeros might need a Queen like you.” Varys remarked.

“I’m no Queen, my Lord.” The throne belongs to you more than to Joffrey that was for sure, but how can you overthrow snakes that know your weaknesses and can use them to sting and hurt you the most?

#game of thrones fic #got #game of thrones imagine #sansa stark x reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader #baratheon reader #house baratheon

[nanoland]

new chapter (supernatural fic)

(Also on AO3.) 

Clean Hands, part 5

Crowley/Dean Winchester/Castiel 

Warning: SPACE GORE  

0    

“I understand you and Dean have fallen out,” said Castiel. “Again. But this is important. The Winchesters are in danger, Crowley. They badly need our help.”

Ten thick leashes in hand, Crowley walked on nothing, his Armani coat billowing in a non-existent breeze for stylistic purposes. Ordinarily, he was loathe to keep the hounds in check via such brutal methods – his clever, clever darlings were the best-behaved babies in the world, always attentive and alert, instantly responding to his every whistle and command. Leashes, he felt, insulted them.

But today, to his sorrow, it was necessary. Brilliant, gorgeous beasts that they were, they weren’t accustomed to hunting the damned in zero gravity. If he didn’t keep them tethered, they were inclined to float away.

“What’s in it for me?” Crowley asked, without deigning to glance in Castiel’s direction.

Unlike him, Castiel had left his meat suit on Earth. Crowley wasn’t sure why. Keeping them operational in the freezing vacuum of space took a bit of work, a bit of concentration, but should hardly tax an angel’s resources.

Maybe he’d just wanted an excuse to stretch his wings.

And oh, how they stretched.

‘Wings’ was a barely accurate description. They were to wings what the Carina Nebula was to a puff of cigarette smoke.

Crowley felt that if the lens through which he viewed angels hadn’t been hammered into shape by early modern European Christianity, he’d sooner have thought ‘frills’ – like Jurassic Park’s inaccurate take on a Dilophosaurus, the nasty bugger that had spat acid in the fat bloke’s eyes. Huge sheets of brightly coloured whatever-material-they-made-dinosaur-puppets-from exploding out of its neck, reminiscent of an opening umbrella. That was far closer to what Crowley could see of Castiel without getting a headache than ‘wings’.

Of course, in order for the comparison to be even remotely accurate, the puppet would need to have been a mile long and accidentally warping the space-time continuum with its very presence. A meteor innocently rolled by; when it came within twenty metres of Castiel’s trunk, it flickered in and out of existence, turned to ice, turned to magma, and then reappeared on the other side of Castiel, continuing on its way as if nothing had happened.

“Crowley,” Castiel huffed, “I don’t have time to banter or bargain with you. Not today. What’s ‘in it for you’ is Dean and Sam’s continued existence – and gratitude.”

Crowley laughed.

“And my gratitude,” Castiel amended. “I will be in your debt. Not that I believe that’s even necessary. I’m quite certain you’ve already made up your mind to help. But if it makes you feel better or appeases your vanity, you can pretend you’re doing it because it will give you leverage.”

“You think a favour from you counts as ‘leverage’, kitten? The last favour you did me ended with you ascending to godhood while I hid in a methhead’s trailer listening to Nancy Sinatra for three days. You, my fine feathered friend, are a celestial fucking monkey’s paw.”

They were now close enough to the wreckage that the hounds were beginning to whine with excitement. Crowley requested patience with a click of his tongue.

“You’re absorbing too much radiation,” Castiel muttered.

“Sort it out, then.”

If Castiel had been wearing Jimmy Novak, he’d doubtless have donned that delightful scowl – maybe even graced Crowley with a pout. As it was, he merely rearranged his wings so that Crowley was shielded from the worst of the cosmic poison.

Juliet misinterpreted the movement and started growling.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Crowley cooed, stroking her scales. “Daddy’s not in any danger from silly old Uncle Castiel.”

Castiel growled back at her. Sound, of course, did not carry in space, for which reason they’d been communicating telepathically; if it had, he’d have blown eardrums back at the ISS. As it was, the only result was that the mangled spacecraft tumbling through Mars’ orbit a short distance away threw off sparks.

Whimpering, Juliet tried to hide behind Crowley’s legs.

“Stop bullying her, you arse. She’s a guard dog. She’s doing her job,” he snapped, untangling the leash.

“I don’t like your pets.”

“I don’t like yours, but you’re still here, asking me to stick my neck out for them. By the way, is there a reason they haven’t summoned me themselves?”

“I…”

“Do they even know about this? Ooh – Cas, are you being naughty? Mm? Sneaking around behind their backs, again?”

Castiel reared up, a thousand luminous antennae bristling, and boomed, “Demon, I have overseen a war in Heaven. I have lead divine squadrons into Hell. I am a veteran and a commander and I am not obliged to beg permission from Dean or Sam before approaching you or any of our other allies. I – why are you aroused? This is not arousing! Stop it!”

“Make me, big boy,” Crowley husked, rapidly reviewing the logistics of getting rage-fucked by an oil-tanker-sized pillar of light and strange matter.

Juliet gave her signature ‘target locked’ bark and Crowley was forced to return his attention to the task at hand.

A figure in an untethered spacesuit had drifted from the wreckage. Still alive, Crowley could smell that much, but panicking; probably only had a few minutes of oxygen left.

He wouldn’t be needing them. Crowley snapped his fingers and let go of the leashes.

“And that,” he said, smugly, watching Juliet crack open the helmet with one bite, “is what happens to people who don’t hold up their end of the bargain.”

In zero gravity, guts didn’t so much spill from a man’s ruptured stomach as they did soar. It was really rather beautiful to watch.

“Untrue. I didn’t hold up my end of our bargain and I never faced any such consequences,” observed Castiel.

“Yes, you did. I’ve ruined you, Cassie. Haven’t you noticed? Over a hundred times now I’ve had you in my bed, arse up or legs wrapped around my shoulders, befouling that sparkling grace of yours. Dirtying you up. All day long, I catch other demons sniffing the air in my presence and I know what they’re sniffing for are the traces you leave on me. All Hell knows what we get up to, every monster and magistrate. So that’s your reputation gone as well, I’m afraid. Consequences, ducky.”

Castiel said nothing until the hounds had finished their meal and what remained of Hell’s wayward client were but a few red droplets dancing through the total blackness.

Then, slowly, in his older-than-hydrogen voice, he said, “You are… you are actually trying to tell me that all the times you’ve pleasured me – all the times I’ve pleasured you – all the times you’ve spent hours reverently touching my penis and buttocks – all the times I’ve made you orgasm so hard you start speaking Gaelic – all that was just part of your cunning plan to take revenge by corrupting me? That’s your claim? That’s the best ruse you can come up with? Ah-hah. Hah. Hah! Hahahahahahaha-…”

Angels shimmered when they laughed. Crowley suspected he was one of the only non-angels in existence who knew that. Even Dean probably didn’t.

“Piss off,” Crowley grumbled, adamantly refusing to allow his meat suit’s cheeks to redden. He clicked his tongue again and the hounds returned to his side, happy and sated.

“When you offer the Winchesters your aid, please don’t tell them I spoke to you first,” said Castiel after he’d calmed down. “It would… complicate things. Say you heard about their dilemma from some other source.”

“Oh, good. So now I can look forward to Dean getting up on his high horse and accusing me of spying on them. Thanks.”

“Crowley, you do spy on them. We both do. Constantly. The only people we spy on more frequently are one another. It – hmm. Your dog is urinating on my thorax.”

“Juliet! Naughty girl.” 

#supernatural #crowstiel #castiel #crowley #dean winchester #drowley #drowstiel #fanfic #my fic

[maggyme13]

Sugar (14/?)

AN: IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!

I hope you missed me /this fic!

ATTENTION: as you are aware, I am including Dom/sub dynamic in this fic. I hereby inform you, that I have no direct experience in this (except fiction and research) so if anyone of you DO have experience, please feel free to pm me. I do not want to write this badly or bring a wrong light into this kink/ dynamic (i hope you know what I try to say)

Warnings: accident, talk about BDSM-rules between Dom and Sub

Wordcount: around 2900 ( this is a long one)

Masterlist

Sugar- Masterlist

Part 13

When you awoke the next morning, you were alone in a comfortable bed. No Loki was insight and a feeling of sadness entered your heart. 

But not for long, just a minute after you had awoken, the door to the bedroom opened and the man in question entered.

“Good morning, (y/n), did you sleep well?”, he asked with a smile, handing you one of the cups he was carrying. You accepted and a smile graced your lips when the scent of hot cocoa filled your nostrils. 

“mhmmmm.”, you hummed and almost snorted into your hot chocolate when your stomach rumbled from smelling the offered energy.

“It is a good thing then, that I asked Barnes and Wilson to get something for breakfast, right? Why don´t you get dressed in something comfortable and I will get the table ready.”, the CEO smiled and you accepted.

Opting for a quick shower and choosing some loose trousers and an over-sized shirt to wear, you finally entered the kitchen. 

The table was filled with all different kinds of breakfast-food; from fruits and vegetables to bread and every version of egg (like scrambled) you knew. 

“Take a seat. After breakfast, we have to talk about the future. Yesterday evening was an exception to the usual dynamic and rules.”

“I understand. And, thank you for last night.”, a slight blush crept up your face.

“My pleasure.”, he smiled, “Though there is no need to thank me for something I have enjoyed as well.”

Loki took his seat opposite to you and together you relished in the energizing and tasteful breakfast.

.--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--.

“Now,”, Loki stated, ”We have to talk. As I said, I will not force you to tell me what happened yesterday for you to act as you did. But should you ever want to tell me, I will listen and not judge you. Well, for your understanding, there are rules you and I have to follow for this to work. Almost one of the most important things is safe-words; you will choose a word, any word- though maybe not the one for the security-, and you use it when you want to stop with whatever we are doing or if you are not feeling well. I will never hold it against you, should you use it. But we will have to talk about what caused you to use the word.”

“Understood. I will think about one, can you help me with finding one that is not too – how do I say it- not fitting, like can be misleading while-”

“I understand what you mean, if you feel safer, we can use the traffic-light-rule. You will use green, yellow, and red. Green: everything is fine, please continue. Yellow: I am not sure, please slow down. Red: stop, I don´t like this.”

“That sounds good.”

“Alright. Then I am sure I already told you about hard and soft borders. You HAVE to tell me your no-goes; before I don´t know them there will be nothing happen between the two of us in the future. Then I need you to tell me your maybes; things you are not sure about or you want to try. You are the only person that can change the things in each category.”

“I won´t do anything regarding excrement, blood, or with other people. And as long as you use a condom I am trusting you, your judgment and experience.”, you stated with a nod.

“Understood. And I feel honored by your trust.”, the CEO hummed.

“What do you have planned for today?”, he asked and you shrugged.

“I don´t know. I wanted to bake with Ma in preparation for Christmas, but … Well...”, you answered with sadness in your voice.

“You can return to NY if you want. I have some business to attend to around here and would follow on Christmas eve.”, your boss offered, but you declined.

“No. I will stay here and return with you. “

“So, why don´t you go and visit the shelter and see if you can find a pet. Barnes told me you owned one back at your Mother´s.”, he smiled, “I thought about getting one for a bit now. But with how often I am traveling and at the office, I don´t believe I had the time.”

“Really? I can choose whatever I want?”, you asked to be sure.

“Whatever you like. Maybe not a tiger or so, but I don´t think they have these in the local shelter.”, he joked and you smiled.

“Yeah, I don´t think so either.”

“Take my brother with you. He is a huge softy about pets. Maybe you can convince him to get one for himself. His flat needs a bit more life as well.” 

“Will do Loki. Thank you.”

Loki was glad he had been able to get the sadness out of your eyes for now, but he still needed to ask Barnes what he knew and believed happened with you. That why he sends his brother with you. That, and he really believed what he had told you.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

One hour later the two of you stepped into the reception area of the Charming Shelter.

“Hello, how can I help you?”, a young woman greeted.

“Hello. I am looking for a pet. Preferably a Dog. Something big if you have. Those fancy handbag- breeds are nothing for me.”, you answered with a smile.

“Do you have any experience with large breeds?”, she asked you to make sure you would not be overwhelmed by one.

“Yes, I had two Pitbulls in the past. I trained them myself. One was a rescue.”

“Well, then you know what you get into with the big ones. Please follow me. You can call me Linda by the way.”

“(y/n), nice to meet you, Linda.”

The halls were echoing from the barking of dozens of dogs of all kinds of breeds and you took the time to look into every cage and at every dog. 

 “These are Skalli and Hati. They were taken from an owner that was found out to be the leader of a dog-fighting-ring. Luckily these two were saved before he had been able to start. One of our volunteers named them after two mythical hounds.”, Linda introduced two dogs. 

One was an all-black Rottweiler, with white socks; the other a pure white Pit with black socks. They were the complete opposite regarding the coloration. 

They seemed to be shy, but curious at the same time.

“We want them to give them away to either the same household/family or befriended ones, for they only know each other to be with and don´t want to separate them.”

“Who is who?”, you asked, offering your hand for the two of them to sniff.

“Skalli is the dark one and Hati the white one.”, she explained.

“How are the two of them with men?”

“We know of no incidences, they have never died nor attacked anyone as we know.”

“What do you think Thor?”

“They are cute, but I think my brother will be a bit overwhelmed with two dogs at once. Better start small.”

“You are right. But what about you? I heard you were thinking about a pet as well.”, you smirked.

“Huh?”, he frowned.

“You could take one of these two and I will take the other. Like this, they will be living in the same building and can see each other a lot.”

“And when I go to work?”

“Take it with you. A Rottweiler or Pit is the right dog to accompany a head of security, don´t you think? You could train it for detection or protection.”, you shrugged with a knowing smile.

“Mhm.”

“At least try to pet one. They are really cute.”, you pleaded, with him you yourself scratching the two of them through the door.

And your plan worked, the second the giant began petting Skalli (who turned on his back asking for his belly to be scratched) a smile spread over his face and joy entered his eyes.

Got you.

“And?”, Linda asked with the same knowing look in her eyes.

“You got me (y/n). Looks like my brother finally gets his will. I will take this little rascal home with me.”

“Then I will take Hati.”, you grinned, ”Can we take them with us today? Or do we need to return tomorrow?”

“You have to do fill out a form with personal information and pay an adoption fee. As well as a fee for medical care these two had to receive. Then you can take them with you.”, Linda explained.

“We can do that. How much?”, you hummed, petting your new dog's belly.

“One thousand per dog.”, Linda gulped, “I know that is more than you have to pay elsewhere. But we are a No-kill-shelter and had to increase the fees due to the many animals we currently have and can´t get adopted.”

A plea sang in her voice. A plea to not turn away because of that sum.

“Alright. Do you want it in cash, check, or per bank transfer?”, Thor answered this time.

“Whatever is best for you.”, the shelter employee stated a bit shocked and relieved.

“I am going to call Heimdall Thor.”, you said, already dialing the number.

“Hello, Ms (y/n).”

“Hello Heimdall, I need you to transfer money to the Charming Animal Shelter for me.”

“Of course. How much do you need me to transfer for the dog? And does Mr Thor pay for himself or will he declare it as work-expenses?”, the secretary stated and you shook your head. 

I give up on trying to find out how he does that.

“I will ask him. Thor, Heimdal wants to know if you want to pay yourself or have the company pay for him as work-expenses.”

“I will pay for him.”, he answered.

“I heard what he said. How much do you want me to transfer Ms (y/n).”

“Three thousand. One for the dog and two as a donation. Can you start a five hundred dollar repeating donation for this shelter each month for me?”, you asked. No-kill-shelters had become rare, and this seemed genuinely interested in the well-being of the animals.

“Money is transferred. And I was free to add some more to the donation from our firm's donation- account.”, the male secretary added.

“How much?”, you wondered really interested.

“Enough for them to operate for a few months. If you now excuse me. I am receiving an important call on the other line.”

“Of course. Have a nice day Heimdal.”, and with that, you ended the call, “Money should be there tomorrow at the latest. Now, do we have to get them special food because of allergies or so? What did you feet them.”

 “E-ehm, they don´t have any allergies. And thank you so much, we really appreciate any money we can get.”, tears threatened to fall down the woman´s face.

“It´s my pleasure. There are far too few no-kill-shelters. And you seem genuinely interested in these animals. Now let's do all the other stuff we have to do. We need to get stuff for them too.”

“Of course. Please follow me into the office, I will get Hati and Skalli ready while you fill out the forms.”

“Please lead the way.”

-..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..-

One and a half hours later, Thor, Skalli, Hati and you entered Charming´s only pet store and left it another two hours with everything the two dogs would need for the next days. 

Both of you were around five hundred dollars lighter and Skalli and Hati wearing matching harnesses and collars and smiles on their face.

“What do you think. We can visit the park before returning to the house. I think it will do them good.”, you hummed and so the four of you did.

It was a small but beautiful park and you had enjoyed the two previous visits with your Mother.

Hati and Skalli were behaving well and listened to the commands of sit, down, and no without a problem. 

You were so engrossed with your new dog, that you did not notice your brother with two other bikers standing a few hundred meters away, watching you interested with a slightly solemn look in his eye. Well, it might be in both of his eyes, but the second one was swollen almost shut by a bruise one of his own brothers had given him. 

“Yes brother?”, Thor answered his phone, catching your attention, “yes we were.- Yes I have found one as well.- We are at the park with them.- Yes.- Yes- Alright. See you in a bit.”

“Do we have to return?”, you asked having listened to his side of the conversation.

“No. My brother and the other two are coming over here to meet them and as I know my brother to get some ice-cream at the parlor over there. That man is a sucker for good ice-cream.”, the big man answered, kneeling to be closer to his new companion, “Yes he is, Skalli. You are so well-behaving. Such a good boy.”

Laughing you followed his lead and were bathed in puppy-kisses by Hati, “Aweee, thank you Hati. Thank you so much.”

Loki, Bucky, and Sam joined you ten minutes later, the first one placing a soft kiss on the edge of your mouth. 

Hati sitting next to you watching the new man with interest.

“And you must be our new room-mate. I think we will get along well, what do you think?”, Loki asked the puppy, offering his hand for him to scent. Seconds later it was licked with vigor and Hati´s tail was wagging like crazy.

“He likes you. His name is Hati. He and Skalli are rescues and were only given away to the same or befriended households.”, you explained.

“Hello Hati. I am Loki.”

* wuff* * whimper* * bark*

Hati waited for you to allow him to greet the man properly, and Skalli wanted to join as well.

Loki and the other two were playing with the dogs a few meters away from you to introduce themselves when a movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A car was barreling towards you. A car that somehow made no noise and was driving so fast you were barely able to jump out of the way or shout.

Three seconds after you noticed the car, you were hit by the side of the fender sending you flying through the air and hitting the ground hard.

Pain burnt up your thigh and hip as well as pulsing in your head. Nausea hit you not long after and there was only one thing you new: at least you were alive, but how long would it stay that way.

Through the headache and your own noises of pain, you heard voices calling out for you. 

“(y/n)! (y/n)! Do you hear me? Tell me where the most pain is.”, you only knew it was one of the men you had been with, but not who.

“Thor is calling an ambulance and taking care of the dogs. So hold tight okay? Everything will be alright.”, you believed it was Bucky.

“It hurts. My head-”, you groaned only to dry heave of pain.

“Everything will be fine, okay? Can you open the eyes for me? Please (y/n), let me see your beautiful eyes.”, now you new it was Loki.

“Loki?”, you groaned.

“I am here.”

“I am getting tired, I don´t want to sleep-”, you mumbled, feeling how your body started to shut down.

“Look at me. (y/n), hear me? Look at me, or at least talk with me. The ambulance just arrived. You will be fine. I will not allow anything to happen to you. Remember?”

“Come with me … Hospital?”, you coughed, not wanting to be alone.

“If the medics allow it. But I will be at the hospital waiting for you and not leaving it without you. I promise.”

“Thank you.” 

There was movement around you, people you did not know joined Loki and you, two of them starting to touch your body.

“Miss? This is Rodger. I am a paramedic and here to help you, okay? Jason and Sasha will be checking you for your injuries and preparing to get you to St. Thomas while I am going to ask you a few questions.”

“Yeah.”, you hummed in understanding.

“The pain you are feeling, how bad is it when 10 is the worst pain you ever felt and 1 is nothing.”

“Eight.”, you groaned.

“Alright. I will give you something for it as soon as I am finished with my questions. Where does it hurt?”

“Knees, Thighs, Hip. Head. I am nauseous.”, you groaned between breaths.

“Any known allergies against medications? Or any known in your family?”

“No.”

“Alright. I will give you something against the pain now. It will probably make you tired. It is alright. Jason will place the EKG on you for us to monitor your heart-rate so we will know how you are doing. So, do not worry if you do become very tired. The boys and I will take care of you and get you to the hospital.”

“Thank you.”, you breathed.

“No worries. I will give you something against the pain now.”, not long after he said that, the pain started to subdue and your eyelids slipped close.

Soon you had slipped into a dreamless slumber. 

Part 15

AN 2.0. So, what do you think will happen next? Who hit her with the car?

REBLOGS and comments are appreciated:)

Thank you very much.

~MaggY

Taglists:

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Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.

#Sugardaddy Loki #sugardaddy loki x reader #Loki x reader #mcu #Reader insert #Marvel AU #Loki AU #car accident #sons of anarchy

[renfricrey]

So I saw that you wanted witcher requests so here i am requesting, lol. Could you do something with a reader x Lambert thats sweet and fluffy, because I love him and I need some fluff right now. 🥺

Fluffy? I love fluffy!! And there is nothing better than Lambert fluff. Okay, did you want AU or witcher!Verse? I think that if we keep him a witcher, y/n would probably be a social outcast (gotta get some angst in there!). A village witch, perhaps? Expect that they are not a witch, not truly, just a very skilled herbalist with some serious cottagecore vibes. Lambert is hired for a job in the village, because it was hounded by a werewolf- a standard job for a witcher, if a bit more lucrative. However, trouble came when one werewolf turned out to be a pack of five. He managed to slice them down, the training of Kaer Morhen not easily overpowered, but he still sustains injuries to his midriff and thigh, ribs bruised and bones aching. He manages to wrangle his payment out of the stingy chief’s hands, but he is denied entrance to any of the inns, people sneering now that they’ve no need of him, clearly hoping he falls victim to his wounds so they could get the money back and perhaps resell his armor and rare potions. They watch his back as he leaves, all but salivating at the two swords there, wishing so badly that he dies because those two beauties would sell for so much coin. They are out of luck, because Lambert won’t be dying that night. y/n has watched the whole thing happen and followed him outside. Usually Lambert would cuss and leave whoever tried to “lure” him into their own space, but black dots are playing at the end of his vision, and he is periodically losing feeling in his leg. With a barely noticable wince, he suddenly realizes that he is dying, and he suddenly wishes so badly to at least die in a bed. So he follows the little witch, as he had dubbed her in his mind, all but collapsing once she shows him to a humble cot. He does pass out. Y/n can tell that some of the wounds have festered, but she has a quick hand and quicker mind, and Lambert the following morning ends up bathed and tended for, and most surprising of all, alive. He is far from healthy, and it takes ten more days for him to be in his prime once more. He leaves with more grace and more sorrow than he anticipated, because he for the first time made a friend, and a human no less. Life wasn’t kind to y/n, not much more than to him. Brilliant and good, she should be somewhere where she is appreciated, not demeaned and ostracized. It is what it is, sadly. (yes, read it as a meme) Except that he can’t get y/n out of his head, not for all the summer. When the leaves turn yellow, and idea forms, and as they turn soggy, he’s already riding back to the village. it is a quick affair, truly. He offers to take her to Kaer Morhen. To stay there, if she so wishes, if she likes it during the winter. His brothers would respect her, his brother’s wife appreciate her and their daughter probably adore her. His own father might be glad he finally made a friend, and there’s food and warmth, and safety, and has she ever seen warm springs? It is one of nature’s miracles, and Kaer Morhen has big ones. It is not a hard offer to take, and it only takes them a day to pack as much as they can of what she means to take with her. it is a lot, but y/n has no intentions of going back. They arrive to Kaer Morhen tired and sore, but a long winter is more than enough to rest.

[wokeastroke]

Oubliette

Tirian had never expected to own a dungeon. He never saw the need. When a man kills, when a man steals, he is either killed or beaten within an inch of his life. Why would he want to keep them? Why torment them further when a beheading was arguably cleaner, less expensive, easier?

But the beast had long since turned his mind into it’s stomping grounds. It’s violent and eternal brain set on very simple and easily accomplished goals. It recognized the enemies about it, the weak ones, the loyal ones. And it recognized itself. When Tirian’s black, dead end eyes met the shining, glittering ones of Riva Ban’dinoriel, there was kinship. The predator that had taken her was a cousin, a sister in murder that thrives on the more subtle methods of domination. In a way it felt weaker, it’s slithering, snake-like appearance easy to stomp underfoot. But never would the bull stomp upon the snake, for fear of the poison in its fangs.

“Oh Tirian, do not look at me with those dark eyes. I’m tired of feeling like you’re going to sling me upon my table and ravish me. Or kill me.”

Tirian scoffed at the doctor, sitting upon her much-to-big leather chair, writing in her leather bound notebook. He was, conversely, seated on a hard wooden stool. Of his own choosing, as before they ever descended into the bowels of Ghostlynn, he needed clarity. It appeared a hard wooden surface under his ass was helpful in that regard. “Never either, Riva. I adore you but I wouldn’t want to break you. And gods know we’re close as can be without blood in the mix.”

Riva made a noise of annoyance. She never enjoyed being told she could not handle something, even if it was a coupling she had no desire to enjoy. Sex was a tool, as much as any drug, and only one had ever enjoyed Riva’s attentions without ulterior motives driving the doctor’s movements. The very thought brought a sigh to her precious lips and a purring from within her, her own beast remembering and appeasing itself with that memory. The doctor scratched a few more things into her notebook, in a script that she’d developed for note taking of this caliber. The symbols were foreign, the entire book looking more like the scratching of a madwoman than the murderous, bloody examination of a gift she and the broad elf before her shared.

A gift, she called it. As it was. It was through the beast that she’d survived being locked underground with a beast of nightmares, it’s mouth vomiting viscous purple slime and it’s wails loud and haunting enough to drive most mad. She tittered to herself, drawing a flick of an ear from Tirian. Perhaps it HAD maddened her. What other than a madwoman would claw her way through half a mile of dirt, stone, and mud with nothing but her nails? She’d broken, that terrible day. And then she’d been remade. A darling, precious doctor turned into a... well.

Tirian cleared his throat, pulling her from her musings. As much as he enjoyed sitting still and watching her quill’s large and ridiculous feather bob and bounce, he did not come down here to watch it. He was here for another reason entirely, one that left his knee bouncing impatiently and his brows furrowing further with each minute he was made to wait.

Riva was the master of the Oubliette, a dark pit where the worst of the Blackrose Duchy found themselves. The worst that could not be turned towards something useful of course, or be caught and gifted to the more elegant dungeons of Vynlorin. Killers had their place, beneath Lord Felo’dorah. If they could not be tempered, would not submit to the king of murderers, they were no better than rabid dogs. They were worse, as even Primrose had been capable of controlling the hounds of the woods. No, this scum had no purpose other than one, one he and Riva had begun to take part in together. A strange sort of bonding, one part madness, another part hunger. Altogether, purely violent. Tirian had come to make good on this violence, to enjoy it to its fullest in a place where not even the guard could save their shared prey.

“You’re taking too long. Make your notes when we’re finished, but I’m hungry now and I know you are too. Get up, let’s go.”

Without waiting for her, Tirian rose to his feet. The room they were in was dark and cold, burrowed and constructed beneath the grounds of Ghostlynn by a thousand worker rats, all vehemently loyal to their god-queen. Tirian’s lip curled up, exposing his teeth in disgust as the vermin skittered about, on various tasks for her. They gave him a wide berth, respectful distance. They were loyal, yes, but not stupid. Even the lowliest rodents knew predators when they saw them, and he was more deranged than any they knew. Riva stood soon after, dusting her already pristine surgeon’s scrubs off. She gave another sigh of annoyance, but he could see it in her eyes as she gifted him a small key. Her shining, predatory eyes. She wanted this as badly as he did, perhaps more so. He could contain his hunger for a time, a week, two. But madness could not be contained. He knew for a fact that Riva fed her beast multiple times a week, sometimes twice daily she indulged her devilish delights. For a moment he wondered what it would be like, to be beneath her scalpel. He shuddered. There was sharp pain, the drag of nails or gnashing of teeth. And then there was the clinical precision of the Good Doctor’s blades. They were not alike.

He inserted the small key into a hole within the center of the wall. Twice to the left, once to the right, pull, once more to the right, push. A delicate system of gears and pulleys allowed even someone as small and thin as Riva to push the great slab of stone inwards. The wails began almost immediately. Men and women screamed and writhed in their cells, the light of even the small office unbearable after so long spent in the dark. Cells lined both sides of a long hall, rats still scampered about in the endless task of feeding, watering, and ventilating the shit-stink of the place. The last task, it seemed, was near impossible.

Their prisoners howled and cursed and gnashed their teeth. Knowing only the beast eyes of rats, their swarming caretaker, they had long forgotten the sensation of foreign bodies. However the malice was palpable. Neither the lord nor the doctor ever came here for good things. Tirian started down the hallway, head held high, as if to rise about the scents and sights of filth and mud. It wasn’t that he was disgusted, no, he was their lord. Even the prisoners of his lands would see him as he must be. Strong, tall, untouchable. They did not deserve his kindness, so none of it graced his face.

“Tirian, if you would, our subject for this morning is a man seen poisoning the crops of your furthest village. Crops that you know are already meager. Their output has been slowed by at least half, and will likely be so until Primrose is sent to usher new growth.” She spoke in a crisp and clipped tone, all pretenses lost as she had already given into the snake in her eyes. It cared for nothing but it’s venom and the venom’s effect.

“So close to war, all crops will already be taxed to feed our men, the alliance’s men. Do they not know that they will simply die second?”

“He speaks in gibberish, most days, yet appears to believe that a life served in undeath is payment enough for his services. Immortality, it seems, is too holy a grail to give up. Even if the means by which it is given are unholy.”

“He is mistaken if he believes his life will be anything other than cut short.”

They lapsed into silence as Tirian led them down the damp and dark hall. The wails of the damned had lessened now, returning to the pitiful mewling, the animals crouching low in their burrows in an attempt to escape the ire of the twin pair of beasts in their proximity. None had the mind left to hurl even insults. A result of the mixture of drugs and restorative that was mixed into their food by the very doctor that stalked them. Enough to ensure they died only when it was wished. At a short clearing of Riva’s throat, both stopped before the cell of a man dressed in ragged farmer’s wear.

It appeared he had not been given a change of clothing when he arrived. None the entered this hell were. His beard had grown unruly and matted, his hair hanging long and dirty and in his face. He did not react as the gate was unlocked and opened, a large and intricate lock falling to the ground with various metal noises. That alone seemed to startle the man. He rose from the ground, a mad dash for the entrance that only served to earn him a fist to his jaw. He fell backward, hitting the ground hard asTirian rubbed at him knuckles, growling slightly as the popped and cracked from the surprise usage.

From the ground, the farmer could only look up and blink in the darkness as the pair entered the cell and stood side by side, looking down on him. Riva spoke first.

“Hello, Mister Demps. I must admit you are looking worse for wear. It has only been a week since your internment, you know. What have you been doing to yourself?” She was sure to keep Tirian within fleeing distance. Proud as she might be, she knew her physical limitations well enough to know to avoid being within grabbing distance. Better to simply watch as Tirian worked, until he was prepared for her own brand of feeding.

And work Tirian did. He stepped forward as the good doctor spoke, taking the bruised and weakened farmer by the throat and twisting his arm behind his back. With this control over the mute fellow, the elf was able to shove him against a nearby wall, holding him steady with a steady application of pain.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” He observed as the man only gasped and murmured. A turn of the head and the night eyes given by the void clarified the reason behind this trait, however. “You took his tongue.”

Riva tittered as she worked behind him, her voice the only sound that told that he was not alone in the cell. “He shouted awful, hurtful things when he was placed within the cell. You must forgive me, but insults must be met with punishment. I believe he has long learned that screaming will not aid him. Tirian didn’t look convinced, even as the doctor arrived beside him, a silver syringe held between delicate, gloves fingers. The needle proceeded dreadfully slow to Demps’ bulging neck, likely for her own enjoyment. The bull didn’t at all kind, as the fear radiating from the farmer was enticing in its rawness. What did the doctor do to the fellow that could neuter him so? He found he did not want to ask.

Instead he breathed in, the antennae-like tendrils on his head weithin as they soaked up the raw terror from their meal. They always seemed more lively during feedings. Then, all at once, the needle found Demps’ carotid artery. Even to the lord, this seemed ill advised, but she was the expert here. The blue liquid pumped from the syringe and into their shared prey’s bloodstream, diffusing almost immediately, traveling to the brain, seeking the neurons that would activate-

Tirian groaned aloud as the concoction worked its magic. The sudden burst of vile and primal fear that coated the cell made his legs shake. The light gasp from behind him was evidence of Riva’s own reaction to the stench. The aroma he’d come to associate with energy, peace, sleep. Food. He stepped back, throwing the farmer to the ground and standing away. His shoulders heaved with his heavy breaths, his head growing light. Riva stepped beside him, grasping one of his strong arms as her own sort of feeding took it’s toll. It always did, for her. Her body was weak, as if her mind was the only muscle she sought to improve. Besides her ass, of course.

He found himself intoxicated as the human scrambled to the wall of the small cell, turning his face and closing his eyes as the wails and moans began to leave his throat unbidden. He looked down, noticing a tightening in his pants as his heartbeat quickened. He always got like this after feeding.

Riva fared no better. Her legs failed her, and only her grip on Tirian’s muscles arm was keeping her afloat in this sea of control. She didn’t care for fear, emotion, especially human emotion, was a waste unless utilized. But the sight of her control, her mastery of chemicals and minds, was orgasmic. Her tongue escaped her open mouth. Her tongues. She’d long ago split the muscle in two simply because she thought it would look good. Her smile was gone, replaced by a look that any would describe as hungry. Horny. But neither wanted sex. They wished to feed. And only when Riva finally patted his arm, signaling that she was fit to burst with the emotion of control, of subjugation, did Tirian raise a hand to the man against the wall.

Long ago, he had had to be close to his meal to devour them. His eyes and mouth had been the only point fear could flow into him, where sustenance could be gained. But he’d grown, since then. He was a bull, a lord, and he would not sully himself by coming closer during his feast of the senses. The power radiating from him coalesced in a simple point upon his palm. It flowed from his eyes, over his tongue and teeth. Cold and dark and sinful, it washed across the room at an unspoken command. Eventually, the energies that eddied and slithered across the ground met the prey, as it sat there and begged the gods for forgiveness with a tongue that could no longer speak. Tirian answered, instead.

“Do not beg the gods for release. In this moment, we are your gods. Tell whatever deity takes you who sent you to them.”

The draining process was swift, pulling the raw mass of terror from within his soul and sucking it across the cell. It was an ugly form of writhing screams and dripping piss and tears. The very essence of fear and anxiety rolled within the air until it was dragged back into the lord’s eyes. The sound was not unlike a predator breaking the bones of its catch to suck the sweet marrow away. It was was gone in an instant, and Tirian’s eyes and mouth were as ‘normal’ as a void elf’s could be an instant later. His hand dropped as he turned away, uncaring of the outcome of the broken, shell of a beast that sat within the cell.

Demps lay against the far wall, having curled into a ball to protect himself. When the attack was over, he merely sat up and stared at the pair. There was no life in his eyes, no pain, only the clear confusion that one feels when they know they must feel something else. He would never feel this anxiety again, damned as Tirian was to a life without fear. This proved a blessing, however, as Riva leveled a pistol to his chest.

The shot rang out, answered by the cries and screams of the forgotten, freshly reminds that beasts stalked their unwilling home. Their prison. The hole blown into the man’s chest cavity was ragged and wide, large enough for a rat to crawl within. It appeared this would not be far off, as Tirian could already hear the screeches of hunger and skittering paws.

“I’m leaving. See you again in two weeks, Riva.” He murmured before stalking off into the darkness. Riva called back a moment later, speaking in her regular, energetic, sing song voice.

“Oh do wait for me, Tirian! Who knows what sorts of monsters lay here, hiding in the dark?” Doctor Riva Ban’dinoriel tittered as she stepped lightly, neatly skipping from the Oubliette.