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daydreamtofiction · 9 months

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Thou Shalt Not Covet // 8: Penance

Contents | Part 7 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) "This was it. This was really happening."

Word Count: <4K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery, explicit sexual content from the outset. Smut: penetrative sex/unprotected sex, (some)dirty talk, other things I’m sure but it’s 4am and I’m tired. Readers must be 18+

Kissing him now was different than before.

In the church it had been desperate, chaotic, a deliverance from lust that served neither of you well. This time, though, there was no rage; no fury in his touch, no aggravation in your chest.

Your mouths moved, deep and slow, luxuriating in the taste of one another without the fear of interruption. You weaved your hands into the back of his hair, the silky, damp locks slipping between your fingers. His lips parted against yours, a heavy breath escaping him as you tugged his head back gently, like a hot, satisfied sigh of relief. You wondered how long he'd been starving himself of this intimacy, how someone who kissed like this would ever have the strength to abstain.

His tongue swept into your mouth, so fluid yet dominant in its invasion. You revelled in the taste of him; the cigarette he'd smoked, the whiskey he'd drank at the party, the intoxicating warmth of his breath. This was the same tongue that spoke to god, that gave sermons in church and preached of chastity, now gliding against yours in a sinful union, inciting feelings within you that he'd so adamantly condemned.

You moaned softly against his lips, pressing your body harder against him. His damp clothes were cold now, making you shiver as the rainwater seeped through to your chest. Your nipples began to harden in response, sending jolts of prickly pleasure to your core with every brush against them.

His hands skimmed up your back, the sensitivity of his touch lost against the thick material of your jumper. You wanted him to delve beneath it, craved the warmth of his large palms splayed across your flesh. But his movements were unhurried, and you weren't sure if it was out of reverence or doubt. But then he rolled his hips beneath you, pressing a straining erection up against your centre, and it definitely didn't feel like doubt.

There was a part of you that was surprised to find him so hard, eager, aching to break out of his confines and sink between your legs. But the other part of you knew; from the moment you met him he seemed to know exactly how to burrow straight to the core of you. To delve beyond the awkwardly timed jokes and resigned disposition to the place where it all made sense. Where you made sense. It was like he belonged within the very depths of you, and he wanted to be there. You wanted him there. Mind and body.

The feeling was torturous; the friction, the pressure, the connection stifled by layers of clothing and his forbearing restraint.

"Touch me," you whispered against his lips.

"I am touching you."

"No, touch me." You reached back and gripped his wrists, attempting to guide him beneath the jumper.

He closed his eyes and let out a growling sigh. It made you halt, leaning back slightly to look into his eyes.

"Please don't hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" he replied.

"I don't know. You just seem... angry."

"I'm not angry, Ellis. I'm devastated." He moved his large hands to frame your face, thumbs on your cheeks, fingers curved around the back of your neck behind your ears. "You have... devastated me."

A breath caught softly in your throat, your voice barely audible as you muttered. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

He returned his mouth to yours and you gasped at the newfound fervour in his kiss. Sharp teeth nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue less gentle in its assault. He said you weren't really sorry, and perhaps that was true; a sorry person would have stopped him, spared him, absolved him of his sins before they burgeoned beyond forgivable. But instead you let him kiss and bite and lick at your parted lips, hummed in approval as he brought his hands to your bare thighs - fingertips bruising in their rough grasp - and bore down against the hard bulge beneath his trousers.

There was a fire deep in your core, flames licking and dancing as they swept through your body. Your skin puckered with heat, every touch searing, every kiss and ragged breath drawing the blaze closer to the surface. You had never wanted someone this desperately before, never been so aroused that you could feel it tingling in your scalp, surging in your stomach and pooling between your legs as your clit pulsated with need.

You dragged the jumper over your head, turning it inside out as you impatiently peeled it from your body and threw it to the ground beside the couch. For three years, no one had seen you naked except Alfie, and there was a comfort that came with that. He'd already acquainted himself with the curves and blemishes of your body, the parts you liked and didn't. He'd seen the scar from an old bellybutton piercing, traced his fingers over the stretch marks on your hips. You never had to fear exposing yourself to him. Most of the time you never even had to; his eagerness to shove inside you completely outweighing his desire to fully undress.

For weeks you'd opened your legs for him, closed your eyes as he clumsily thrust into your body and imagined Father Benedict there instead. You would sink into a world of steepled ceilings and stained glass, dark curls and white collars. But when it was over, you would open your eyes and be back in the house - Gina's house - with Alfie's satisfied smile gleaming down at you.

But this time, Father Benedict wasn't a fantasy, and those piercing blue eyes were actually there, trailing over you in silence. You suddenly became very aware that you'd revealed yourself to him; bare chest, uncovered stomach, dips and contours and textures and curves, parts of you that had belonged solely to someone else for the last three years. A shyness washed over you, the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But as his gaze raked over your body, hands gliding slowly up your sides, you stilled.

A heavy breath fell from his parted lips, the exhale rattling with a soft growl. "Forgive me, Father," he muttered, his voice so low it was barely audible.

You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, or if he really was speaking to God; begging for mercy before he'd even taken a bite of the forbidden fruit.

He leaned forward, placing a kiss on your collarbone as his fingers dug into your hips. Your head fell back instinctively, opening yourself up to him, eyes closing as the warmth of his tongue trailed up to your neck. A shiver ran through you like static, raising goosebumps and tightening your nipples into painful, hard pearls. He hadn't spoken directly to you, and yet somehow every insecurity you had began to melt, dripping from your centre in wet, hot desire.

You took his hair in fistfuls as he traipsed kisses down your chest, teeth grazing over the soft flesh of each breast before pausing suddenly. You opened your eyes and brought your head forward, looking down to find him leaning back to examine you curiously.

"Are these bruises?" he asked.

You glanced down at yourself; the motley of reds, purples and browns marring your breasts.

"Love bites," you replied quietly, simply.

He glared up at you, half-lidded, jaw sharp.

"Does it bother you?" you asked.

"The evidence of another man's mouth all over you?"

"So it does?"

He didn't respond, his silence confirming your suspicion.

"Why?" you whispered.

"Because I know he didn't deserve the privilege."

You felt his words spark the nerves in your clit, like the striking of a match. You rolled your hips slightly, trying to ease the sudden ache. "Are you saying you do?"

"No." His tone darkened as he looked up at you. "But I plan to earn it."

You didn't know what you were expecting him to say. But it definitely wasn't that. It made you wish you could see yourself through his eyes - a woman he had to earn. You leant forward and swept him into another kiss; so overcome with need and adulation, the feeling of being desired and appreciated almost as arousing as his lips on your bare skin. He returned your kiss, just for a moment, before bringing a hand to your face, gripping your cheeks between finger and thumb to peel you away.

"After tonight, no one will ever touch you again unless they're worthy of you," he said, his voice so quiet and serious, lips grazing yours as he spoke. "Will you promise me that?"

You nodded, as much as his grasp on your face would allow.

He eased his grip, seemingly satisfied with your response, and allowed you to melt into him again. You fumbled for the buttons on his shirt as you kissed him, popping them open one by one until you reached the collar. It seemed wrong for you to take it off. Even now as you sat straddling him, half naked and panting heavily, that strip of white plastic around his neck was like armour, an impenetrable shield, blasphemous to remove.

"Go ahead," he said quietly, as if sensing your apprehension. "It just snaps off."

"You don't want to do it yourself?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Just do it."

You pulled at it with shaking fingers but it didn't budge. With a slight huff you tried again, harder, hearing two quick pops, a heavy exhale from his lips. You slid it out, eyes fixed on his as you dropped it to the ground - his commitment relinquished, abandoned, discarded into the puddle of your jumper on the floor.

He undid the last few buttons himself before placing his hands around your waist, silently granting permission for you to peel the shirt back from his body and reveal the smooth, cold skin beneath it. You lay your palms on his chest, dragging them slowly down his torso as you admired the sight, the feel, how he expanded with every breath, tensed with the tickle of your fingers. Some parts of him were soft, tender, malleable beneath your touch. Others were hard and robust, broader than you expected them to be. This person wasn't a dream, wasn't a character or a myth. This was a man.

His throat bobbed with a deep swallow as you leant forward and placed a kiss on his chest, his hold on you tightening, body turning rigid beneath you. You trailed your lips up to his neck, revelling in the taste of him; salt and earth, soap and faded aftershave.

"Tell me about the fantasies," he whispered through a serrated breath.

"What do you mean?"

"I want to know what you pictured when you thought of me."

You paused before moving your mouth up to his jaw, kissing along the sharp edge, the slightest brush of stubble beginning to surface.

"I'll tell you what I was thinking about today in my office," he wagered.

You thought about it for a moment. "Okay. You first."

"I was thinking about you kneeling for communion at the altar." He turned his head, his deep, gravelly voice pouring straight into your ear. "With my cock down your throat."

You gasped gently as a rush of warmth flooded your core, making you roll your hips to ride the sudden, intense wave.

"You give sermons with that mouth, Father," you said softly, voice trembling despite your attempt to sound playful.

His hands glided up and down your back, nails grazing lightly over your goose-bumped flesh. "Now you."

"I never really thought of a specific scene. It's just... always you. But-" you cut yourself off, inhaling the words back into your lungs before they even had the chance to escape.

"But?"

You lifted your head to look at him. "One thing always stays the same."

"And that is?"

"You're never... Gentle."

He buckled beneath you, closing his eyes and letting his head fall against the back of the couch, a stifled groan resonating in the base of his throat. "Hot, fiery Hell," he growled, pushing himself up between your legs.

He felt big; his cock firm and straining as it surged against your sheathed entrance. You wanted to release it, hold it in your hands, run your tongue along every inch. You wanted to acquaint the curl of your fingers with its girth, stroke, grip, tease, watch it sink gradually inside you until there was nothing left of it. For the longest time, sex had been a chore; Alfie's penis a jabbing, graceless thing that prodded around but never truly satisfied. You'd forgotten what it was like to truly crave the intrusion, to feel yourself lubricated and ready before you'd even fully undressed.

He weaved a hand through you hair, wrenching you towards him and swallowing you in another heady, desperate kiss. The other hand slid beneath the rumpled fabric of your boxers, tracing his fingers back and forth over the crease where thigh met hip. You willed him to move further inward, mewling with every almost-touch until the sensation became unbearable. You'd waited so long for this; sat through so many sermons, suffered the ache of uncomfortable pews and unsafe bus rides, the suspicious glare of church volunteers and the boredom of those fucking support groups. It was time to embrace where it had led you to.

You were his penance, but he was your reward.

You reached down and began working to unfasten his trousers, battling with the complicated fly until it finally opened. He came undone with it, breathing a hot sigh into your mouth as you stroked and caressed him through his underwear. He steered his fingers over the junction of your bikini line and you gasped as they slipped easily through your wet folds, gliding back and forth before settling on your clit.

He gave a proud hum as he rolled the pad of his thumb over the tender bud, rousing a storm in your core; sparks of lightning and deep, undulating thunder. You moaned softly, grip tightening around the outline of his rigid length. A shiver rippled through you, making your legs shake, hips bucking involuntarily and pushing you harder against his touch.

Maintaining the pressure on your clit, he moved his other hand to the waistband of your boxers - his boxers, now drenched in the evidence of your desire - silently instructing you to take them off. But you didn't want to leave him, even for a moment. Scared that your brief separation would bring him clarity, grant him just enough time to change his mind. You pressed your forehead to his as you lingered there, staring down into his eyes and searching for doubt in the flecks of his irises.

He removed his hands from you completely - the loss of contact turning the pleasure to a heavy, mournful ache - and tugged at the crumpled material around your waist.

"Ellis," he growled.

You gave in and climbed off him, the weight of your movements inciting a stifled groan in his chest. And in the time it took the boxers to fall to the ground, you were back on his lap, bare pussy grinding against the rough fabric of his trousers; buttons and open fly, the Y-shaped seam of his underwear and confined curve of his cock.

Was God here right now? Spying from the corner of the room like some omniscient voyeur? You'd never been one for exhibitionism. But there was a strange power that came with the thought of your naked body shrouded in a celestial gaze, deities forced to watch but unable to intervene.

You felt Father Benedict shift a hand beneath you, shucking his trousers further down his hips and fisting at his underwear. His cock sprung free against your ass, firm and heavy as it settle along the groove between your cheeks. Your breath turned shallow at the mere thought of having him inside you, a deep shiver rippling through your core like a prophecy of that first thrust.

You lifted yourself slightly, enough for him to reach down and grip the base of his cock, gliding the engorged head through the slick between your legs. He was eager, impatient - maybe he was scared of changing his mind too.

"Are you sure about this?" you whispered, shivering as you felt him prodding against your entrance.

His gaze darkened, like a crisp blue sky in the onset of a storm, and in one smooth, firm slide, he entered you. A sound poured out of you that you'd never heard yourself make before; shock, relief, pleasure, all at once. You marvelled at the stretching sensation, the way your body welcomed every inch of his cock with such ease, your inner walls flexing and moulding around the thick veins and hard ridges as it filled you to the very depths.

His eyes clamped shut, the muscle in his jaw pulsating as he fought to maintain his composure. "I haven't been sure about anything since the moment I met you," he finally replied.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to the dimple at the corner of his mouth, trying to soothe the tension he was storing there. You draped your arms around his shoulders and let your chest fall against his, running your fingers through the back of his hair, the curls that fell over the nape of his neck.

This was it. This was really happening.

For the longest time you'd felt incomplete; a collection of empty spaces and uncharted lands, voids too deep and complex for anyone to explore, even you. But in the short time you'd known Father Benedict, he'd somehow managed to journey to the very centre of those places, laid down roots and watched them flourish, as swift and besieging as English ivy on fractured stone. Perhaps that was why this felt so right; because the hollows of your body were already his to pervade.

He was bigger than Alfie; thicker, longer, the snug fit stealing the air from your lungs as you relaxed against him. No man had ever filled you this completely; flooding your pelvis with a warm, tense pressure before he'd even moved a muscle. You rolled your hips, testing the feel of him, and gasped quietly as electricity surged through your belly.

A deep, husky groan dripped into your ear, long fingers and large palms skimming up your thighs and settling on your waist with a clawing grasp. His voice sent a chill across your skin, even the finest hairs bristling in response.

"Ellis," he rumbled. "I'm really trying not to lose my composure."

You kissed him softly, allowing another slow, controlled rotation. His voice rattled in the back of his throat, nails pressing half-moons into the dips of your waist. There was something charming in his restraint; how even in this moment, with his cock buried inside you, he was still trying to maintain his civility.

You tightened your hold on his hair, deepening the connection until you were nothing but a blur of sweeping tongues and hot, heavy breaths. His body trembled beneath you as you gradually began to move, hips grinding and rotating to the rhythm of your kisses, punctuating each slide of his length with a soft, desperate whimper.

A divine friction resonated in your core; his cock a rigid, firm stave, your pussy a soft, pliant sheath, moving together in both harmony and dissonance, like the trill of a choir. With every upstroke, your nipples grazed his open shirt, and when you bore down, an electric current hummed in your clit.

"Fuck." The word stuck between your teeth before escaping in a sigh.

His hands caressed your back, the wide span of his fingers leaving no part of you untouched; squeezing, prodding, tickling, each stroke perfectly in tune with the motion of your hips. You rested your forehead in the crook of his neck, the feeling of his collar against your cheek making you realise he hadn't undressed. Not really. You'd stripped bare for him, offered your unclad body like a tribute for him to bask in. You were a creature of desire, his Mary Magdalene, completely devoted to serve.

You felt your thighs growing tired, sore and shaking, a heavy burn smouldering in your muscles. You relaxed your pace, dropping your full weight into his lap as you slowed your movements to a lazy grind. The new sensation made you moan softly against his skin, savouring the longer, deeper slides, the crown of his cock sinking right down to your soul.

His head fell back, a swallow thrumming down his throat. "My god," he groaned.

A smile pulled at your cheeks, the lord's name in vain so delicious whenever it came from him. And this one was your fault; your body guiding him to commit sin after glorious sin. You placed a kiss on his neck, seizing a moment of boldness by taking the skin into your mouth and drawing a bruise to the surface.

You half expected him to push you away, chastise you for marking him in a place he'd struggle to hide. But instead you felt his arms flex around you, thighs tensing as he moved to plant his feet firmly on the ground. A jolt of spine-tingling pleasure burst through you as he thrust to meet the languid roll of your hips, turning what was supposed to be a smooth, relaxed gyration into a hard, forceful collision. Your mouth fell open, a dazed cry falling from your parted lips.

He growled softly in response, his control waning.

Your pussy tensed around his cock as he slammed into you again, every ridge and groove of your inner walls melding to embrace him. He brought a hand to your face, drawing you into another fevered, hungry kiss. You obliged obediently, as though you were his to use, a disciple eager to please.

You hummed and groaned against his lips with every pump of his cock, the couch creaking beneath the weight of your union, his hand welded to the back of your head, the other on your backside directing your movements. He was driving you towards completion, filling you with a heat and pressure that grew stronger with every stroke. The feeling continued to swell, expanding deep in your stomach until it was dancing along your nerves; setting you alight.

You'd gotten used to not finishing. Alfie's premature climaxes so normalised that you no longer even protested the stuttering hips and garbled moans. Men came. Sometimes you did too, usually alone with your fingers after they rolled off you and went to sleep. But even in the times you did orgasm, it never felt like this.

Your entire body shuddered, cells exploding and stitching themselves back together again. There was a throbbing in your clit, an ache in your core, the brushing of his cock inside you so sensitive you could no longer tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

He kept your head up with his hand, forcing you to look at him as you rode out every last wave, the aftershocks causing your walls to clench around his cock, coaxing him to his own release. He came soon after with a deep, guttural groan, sinking right down to the root as he flooded you with his seed.

You sat breathless on his lap, still joined to him as he began to soften inside you, his eyes so dark it was like staring into the night sky. If this really was what damnation looked like, then you would happily burn for an eternity.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @veryladyqueen @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles

*If you would like to be tagged in the next chapter, please leave a comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the list here

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 10 months

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Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~5k

Summary: You and Wanda travel abroad

A/N: I said I was going to post this Friday, but I fell asleep while reading it and now it’s 4am here, so here ya go. The angst fic that was requested...or voted for, not sure which. Please forgive any typos, my eyes are not staying open. Enjoy!

Warnings: injury, angst, hurt

“No, Y/n it’s this way.”

You and Wanda had been vacationing for a couple of weeks, and you both were just trying to relax and be tourists for a bit. You were in Spain and you’d just left the largest church you’d ever been in to head to lunch. Between the two of you, Wanda was the one who liked to find places to eat while you dealt with hotels and transportation. It worked well for both of you and so far neither of you had any complaints. Despite having way too much money, you two weren't sticking with 5-star hotels or restaurants. You’d convinced Wanda to have the normal traveler’s experience and despite sometimes struggling with having hot water consistently, you were enjoying it. As long as Wanda was with you, she didn’t really care where they were. That said, there were a few things she put her foot down about.

You sigh in defeat as you glance up from your phone that you had been using for directions to watch your wife start to walk away from you. The area you were in was hectic. The true center of tourism. The crowds of people on the sidewalks and walking through the streets seemed to blend with the traffic heading in all directions. Wanda’s heading in what you believe is the wrong direction, but you’re willing to walk a little out of the way if it makes your wife feel better. You’re still thawing from the freezing air blowing through the church, so the bright sun beating down on you doesn’t bother you much. You hurry after Wanda who’s standing at the foot of the steps looking down one road with a slightly confused look.

“Wands, wait a second.”

You’re in the process of putting on your sunglasses as you head down the stairs when you see something dart in front of traffic. Your first thought is a dog because you’ve seen a few strays every now and then, but the fact people are honking and swerving immediately helps you realize it’s a child. You’re not sure why he was in the road, but that doesn’t matter as much to you. You see that Wanda’s still distracted in her search, and the normal traffic sounds don’t tip her off until it’s too late. You see the motorcycle swerve to avoid the kid, and the car behind it slam on its breaks. The kid’s still running and the car he almost steps in front of swerves into a motorcyclist who’s sent careening onto the sidewalk. Right toward your wife. The sound of the collision clues Wanda in and she’s turning to investigate when the bike is sent barreling toward her.

“Wanda, watch out!”

You reach her fast enough to push her out of the bike’s path, but you step right into it, and you brace for impact as much as possible with barely a millisecond’s notice.

You’ve ridden on a motorcycle maybe twice in your life, but even that wasn’t enough for you to remember how heavy they were. You curse and go flying several feet before you’re skidding down the sidewalk. The bike tilts and falls leaving the driver on the sidewalk too while his bike almost makes it to the stairs of the church. Wanda’s picking herself up off the ground quickly when she realizes that you’re hit. She looks toward you with wide terrified eyes when she sees you lying on the ground motionless. She’d missed you getting hit, but the fact that you made it so far away scares her. One glance at the bike and the injured driver tells her everything she needs to know.

“Y/n!”

You’re conscious, but you don’t notice Wanda fall to her knees beside you to try and assess how injured you are. She hears enough of the conversations around her to know that an ambulance is being called. A closer look at you tells her you’ll definitely need one. There are burns on your arms from where you hit the bike and they’re scratched and bruising from your impact with the sidewalk. Wanda carefully reaches out for your shoulder, but you barely move from where you’re lying face down on the hot, dirty brick.

“Y/n can you hear me? Help’s coming, okay?”

You can hear her but you can’t force yourself to respond as your brain tries to catalogue your injuries. Your arms ache, your leg is throbbing from the impact with the bike, and you feel something warm dripping down your face. You tense at the feeling of your wife’s hand on you, and she immediately pulls back but you don’t want that. You force yourself to roll over onto your back, and you grimace in pain as the motion agitates near every injury you have. You groan loudly and Wanda reaches out carefully to try and comfort you, but she doesn’t know where to touch you.

“Detka, don’t move too much, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here.”

You nod in understanding and take a few seconds to listen for sirens. You only notice the crowd of people nearby and the worried look on your wife’s face. You want to tell her that you’ll be fine, but everything hurts and you’re not sure if anything is broken. Instead you offer her a small smirk as you glance to what you believed was the right direction of the restaurant you’d wanted to go to.

“You can go to lunch if you want. Bring me back a-a sandwich.”

You close your eyes so you miss the scoff and the accompanying eye roll at your ridiculous statement. Wanda shakes her head before squeezing your hand as she registers the sound of sirens closing in. She’s already trying to figure out how she’ll arrange a new ride home for you two. She quickly switches gears when she sees the ambulance pull up to the busy sidewalk. Wanda looks back to you and smiles when she sees you still smiling.

“Later, Y/n. Help is here.”

The trip to the hospital is a blur for both of you, and as Wanda waits anxiously in the waiting room she wishes she’d told the EMTs more than she had. She feels her phone vibrate as she’s waiting for you to be triaged, and she looks down to see that her brother is calling her.

“Hey Piet.”

She’d texted the older Maximoff as soon as she’d sat down, and only a few minutes later he was calling. It had a bit of a rambling message, but she’d wanted to tell someone about what was going on because she was alone and panicking. Pietro had been asleep and barely heard the first ding of his phone. The second, third and fourth finally made his eyes open and he reached out for his phone with a groan. He had been planning to turn it off, but the sight of his sister’s name through one cracked eye made him sit up and try to pay attention.

“Wands, how is she doing? Is she okay?”

Wanda nearly starts crying as she thinks about how she has no idea what’s going on. She was told that she would be updated as soon as they had something to tell her. However, given that they were in a different country and no one knew who she was she didn’t get special treatment. This meant things moved slower and despite hating it, there was nothing that she could do but wait. She wanted to see how you were doing, but it had barely been 10 minutes. Wanda tells her brother this and there’s a minute or two of silence as they both think about this. Wanda wonders if you’d broken something while Pietro’s thinking about how to arrange a flight back for you two. He knows his sister won’t want to take you back on a regular flight, but he’ll arrange that in the morning. Well later this morning.

“It was so scary, Pietro. I didn’t see it happen because she pushed me out of the way, but she was so far away. The motorcycle really just mowed her down.”

Pietro cringes at this imagery and how traumatic this must have been for both of you. Mostly you considering that you’re in the hospital. He sits up and turns on the light as he starts to get out of bed to get changed.

“Can I do anything to help, sestra?”

Pietro waits for a response that never comes because Wanda simply sighs in defeat. She doesn’t know what to tell him because until she has information she’d just be guessing. She will be going around in circles if she gets started now. Eventually she shakes her head before looking at her watch that she just realizes is scratched from her fall. She doesn’t care about this right now as she takes a deep breath and tries to calm down.

“No, Piet, but thank you. I'll let you know when I know something.”

This turns out to be over an hour later, and by that time Wanda’s near beside herself with worry. She nearly jumps up when her name is called and she listens carefully as she’s told about what the doctor had figured out. Wanda follows the doctor to your room because the first question she’d asked was if she could see you. Apparently you were asleep, but Wanda didn’t care and she’s practically running behind the doctor.

“She’s fractured her tibia and sustained some other minor injuries on her arms, hands, and face but I'm concerned about her possibly hitting her head.”

Wanda can’t say if this happened or not because she was too distracted and she’d missed everything important. She regrets this immensely in this moment but she can’t do anything about it other than admit her ignorance. She arrives at your room while the doctor is still talking to her about next steps. She nods slowly before taking a moment to process the information.

“We can talk about it later, but next steps would be advanced imaging to see if she’s injured in ways we can’t see.”

Wanda will think about this soon, but for now she’s focused on where you’re lying in bed groggy from the medication you’d been given. Your eyes are shut, but when she comes to the side of your bed you try to open them with a quiet groan.

“Thank you. I'll let you know after I talk to her.”

The doctor nods before giving you two some time alone. She’ll have a nurse on standby in case you need assistance, but Wanda hopes you won’t need it. Once she’s gone she picks up an uncomfortable looking chair and places it beside your bed quietly. She frowns as she takes in your bruised and bloodied face, and your arms that have been wrapped in bandages. She reaches out for your hand and carefully intertwines your fingers. You don’t respond immediately, but Wanda’s frown deepens when your lips turn down and you yank your hand away. You hiss in pain but Wanda doesn’t get to ask about this before you’re speaking up.

“Leave me ‘lone. I’m married.”

Wanda’s brows furrow in confusion before she seems to realize you’re a lot higher than she thought. She tries to reach out again but she stops short of touching you as she speaks up.

“I know, detka. I’m your wife, Wanda.”

She sees you roll this around your brain for a moment with a cute pout before you look to her with barely opened eyes. You reach out for her with a curious look before muttering a question under your breath.

“Wands? What are you doin’ here?”

If you weren’t so drugged Wanda would smile at you, but she’s a little worried about how unfocused your gaze is. She decides she should get to the important part and figure out how you want to proceed. If you were to ask her to go home now she’d find it hard to say no to you. Luckily you seem too tired to think that far ahead.

“I’m here because you’re hurt. Remember the bike that hit you? How are you feeling?”

You whine as you turn on your side and try to bring your wife closer. You want a hug, but the pain in your leg stops you from moving too much. You curse and feel tears well up in your eyes at the sharp sudden pain and Wanda is reaching out to still you before you hurt yourself more.

“Oh yeah. I hurt a lot. Did I break something?”

Wanda takes a minute to explain what the doctor said, and you’re still frowning as you consider your options. You hate being in small spaces but at least you’ll be put under anesthesia for it. This makes Wanda nervous because she hates anesthesia. It freaks her out being put asleep, but this is definitely a situation where it’s necessary. You decide that you’ll do whatever the doctor recommends and Wanda calls the nurse back in to let her know. When the doctor returns to talk to you both, you’re told that these tests will take a couple of hours. You don’t mind because you’ll be asleep, but you wonder how Wanda’s going to pass the time. Rather you’re worried that she'll be very anxious the entire time you’re out. You wish there was someone who could sit with her, but your friends are thousands of miles away.

“Will you be okay, Wands?”

Once you two are alone, you and Wanda sit in silence for a bit. You’ll only have a few minutes before you have to go, but you want to take the time to check in with your wife before you’re sedated any further. Wanda just squeezes your hand before offering you a smile you see through immediately.

“I'll be fine, detka, but more importantly so will you.”

Wanda tries not to read too deeply into the act of taking off your rings later. You’re going to get an MRI and any metal on your body needs to be removed. You make her promise to keep them safe before you kiss her goodbye for now. You’re wheeled off to get imaging done and you sigh heavily as you consider how things could have been different if you hadn’t noticed the near wreck in time. You’re glad that Wanda was okay, and other than your leg and arms you’re not too bad. That’s what’s important to you.

Pietro’s arranged for a jet to go to Wanda as soon as she says the word. He’s been juggling work and arranging this for his sister, but he mostly cares about how you’re both doing. He’s about to text Wanda again when he finally hears his phone ring. It’s a couple of hours since you went in for testing and his sister has just been given good news. She breathes a sigh of relief before telling Pietro that she’d like to come home now. You two had planned to leave in a couple of days anyway, and given that you should be monitored closely for any complications, Wanda wanted you home where she had people who could take care of you.

“That’s great news, sestra. I'll have the pilot head out now and keep you updated.”

Wanda smiles gratefully as she thinks about how to tell your friends about this. They would be worried and she didn’t want them to be, but she also knew that hiding this would piss them off. As if hearing her thoughts, Pietro tells her that he’ll let everyone know what happened so she doesn’t have to worry about anything but you. Wanda’s extremely grateful for her brother right now and she’d even hug him if he were here.

“Thank you, Piet. I'll call you when we’re heading out.”

Other than the massive headache that you have, you’re feeling pretty good. You’re flying on a private jet that is definitely several steps up from the first class flight you took to Spain. You are resting in a very comfortable chair as you try to move your head as little as possible. You glance over to your wife who’s sleeping nearby, and you smile at the adorable sight of her curled up under the covers. She’d been exhausted ever since you arrived at the hospital. You’re certain that she didn’t sleep at all, and you’re glad that she’s making up for lost time.

You just wish you were feeling a little better so you could enjoy the flight with her. You sigh quietly before closing your eyes again with a frown. You’re lucky that neither of the tests you had showed any major issues. You definitely knocked your head on the ground, but it was just a minor concussive injury that would hopefully improve with rest and medication. Your leg is honestly going to take the longest to heal despite only being only a small fracture. You were given the option of an ugly boot and crutches or a cast and crutches. They both sounded unappealing, but you figured that the boot would be easier to navigate. You glance to where your leg is kicked up on an ottoman, the ugly boot putting its impression in the hopefully faux leather. You want to get up and to the bathroom but that sounds like a lot of work at the moment. You’d rather just sleep a little more.

Instead you end up doing one of the many things that the doctor had told you to avoid. You go on your phone so you can text your friends who had heard about what happened from Pietro. You reassured them that you were okay. Just a little shaken and beaten up but nothing too serious. You agreed to go see the doctors at the compound for repeat testing as soon as you got home, but Wanda had already told you that was happening so it wasn’t much of a sacrifice. After catching everyone up and sending a cute picture of your broken leg, you start to formulate a plan for getting up and going to the bathroom. You blindly grab your crutches and end up dropping one with a loud bang. You wait to see if Wanda would wake up, but she barely stirs as you grab the other crutch and figure out how to hop around.

It takes a good two minutes for you to climb to your feet, and you stop to take a break once you’re up. Almost five minutes later your bladder is about to empty itself so gracelessly hobble to the nicest bathroom you’ve seen in weeks. Your trip is uneventful until after washing your hands you knock the crutch on the floor again. You curse when the loud noise draws Wanda’s attention and you hear her call you from the bedroom.

“Y/n? Are you in the bathroom?”

You glare at the crutch on the floor before nodding to yourself and calling Wanda in through the closed door.

“Yeah. Come on in.”

Wanda wastes no time doing this and as soon as the door’s opened she’s looking around for the source of the noise. She’s not surprised to see the fallen crutch, and she hurries to pick it up before eyeing you carefully.

“Are you okay?”

You nod minutely before claiming that you still have a headache. You see Wanda do some mental math before frowning when she reaches the same realization that you had. It’s too early for more medication, so you’re just going to have to sleep it off or not move at all so as not to aggravate your headache.

“Do you want to lie down?”

Wanda can see from how weak your eyes look that you don’t feel well. You’re squinting as you slowly navigate your way back to the bedroom with a sigh. Wanda hovers nearby as you make it to the bedside, and she helps you turn down the covers quickly so you can lie down. You sit down slowly before propping your crutch against the bedside table and looking down at your annoying boot with a scowl. You were allowed to take it off when you slept but you were afraid of rolling over and hurting yourself. You also don’t want to bend over to take it off so you decide to just lie down.

“Wands?”

Your wife knows what you’re asking and she nods before kneeling down in front of you. She instructs you to sit back and she helps lift your leg and turn you so you’re lying on your pillow. You sigh in relief and shoot Wanda a grateful smile before patting the spot next to you. She leaves you for a second first and grabs a blanket to throw over you since she doesn’t want to pull the covers your boot. You snuggle up under it with a happy hum that makes Wanda smile widely as she comes to sit beside you.

“Is this okay?”

Wanda whispers this since she knows your head hurts, and you just nod in confirmation before reaching out for her hand. You squeeze it tightly before closing your eyes and trying to relax now that you’re lying down. You hope that your medication kicks in soon, and you let that comforting thought lull you to sleep.

The next time you’re conscious you feel like someone’s taken a bat to the side of your head. You don’t dare move and you almost wish that your pulse would slow so you didn’t have to feel and hear the seemingly thunderous sound vibrate through your skull. You try to open your eyes but a wave of nausea forces you to close them with a quiet whimper.

“Y/n?”

So maybe not as quiet as you thought. Your tossing and turning had woken up your wife who had been watching you for a few minutes. Once she realized that you weren’t doing well she decided to speak up. She regrets it immediately though when she sees that you’re grimacing in pain. Wanda checks the time before she gets up to find your meds. She doesn’t talk and she quickly shuts off the lights before getting a glass of water for you. You manage to swallow the pills before lying back down with a muttered curse when you jostle your leg and try to overcompensate by putting more weight on your bruised arm.

“Shit!”

“How can I help you?”

Ten minutes after taking your meds you’d thrown them up. Now you were lying on the floor because moving again to get into bed required too much exertion. So Wanda just watched anxiously as you fight the urge to vomit again as you focus on the cold bathroom floor instead of your pounding head.

“I just need to sleep. I can’t do anything else right now.”

Wanda doesn’t like this answer but she’s not sure if she can come up with a better option. They’re still about 5 hours away from home, and Wanda is considering the possibility of needing to stop at a hospital on the way when you speak up. Your mouth feels dry in addition to your nausea and raging headache, so it takes you a moment to find your voice.

“Don’t worry, Wanda. I'll feel better soon.”

A few hours later, Wanda’s going between watching the clock and you as you get closer to your destination. She’s glad that you’ve fallen asleep, but you don’t look very comfortable curled up with your pillow between your arms and your leg sticking out at an awkward angle. Wanda reaches for her phone again to see that they’re about an hour out from the compound, and that her brother’s prepared for their arrival.

Bring her to medical when you get here. Christine will be by soon.

Although she’d planned on having your tests repeated as soon as you got home, she feared having you put under again. You woke up fine back in Spain, but you seemed to be doing worse and Wanda was worried. She stares at her screen for a while as she tries to come up with a response, but she hears you shift in your sleep before she gets a chance.

“Wands?”

Wanda is up and by your side immediately ready to get whatever it is you want or need. Instead you hold out your arms to her, only opening your eyes a crack before you mutter sleepily.

“Cuddles.”

Wanda is relieved you aren’t needing anything she can’t give you, so she’s quick to lie back down and let you cuddle her to your heart’s content. You’re able to go back to sleep relatively quickly, but the subtle pounding of your head makes your brows furrow in pain. Wanda frowns at the sight but she’s just glad that the rest of the flight is uneventful.

You’re groggy when you wake up once arriving at the compound. You’re so out of it that you don’t argue when someone arrives with a wheelchair for you. The idea of walking all the way down to medical sounds exhausting, and you give someone else, maybe Wanda, your crutch before being wheeled inside. The person pushing your chair is actually Nat and she shoots your wife a questioning look as she whispers softly.

“How’s she doing?”

Wanda tells the other redhead how you’d done on the flight. After the initial hiccup you’d been able to sleep, but you were still hurting despite getting your medicine. Nat frowns as she gently rolls you into the elevator that will take you to your waiting medical team. She eyes your leg that's in a boot, and overall it that looks a little gnarly. Despite being wrapped and stabilized at least temporarily, Nat worries about how you’ll manage to stay still long enough to heal. You’ve never been good at listening to a doctor’s orders, but she’s hoping that you’ll be more receptive to a doctor you know well.

“Well I hope you at least enjoyed your vacation up to this point.”

Hearing this as you’re rolled into the clinic clues you in to Nat’s presence. You smile as you turn to look at her and offer a minute nod before glancing at your wife.

“It was great! Such good food and sights…and company.”

Both Wanda and Nat smile at your enthusiastic answer before you’re brought to a room where your friend and doctor waits. She’s flanked by a couple of nurses but you focus your attention on her primarily because you know she’s the one that has a plan for you.

“Hi ladies. How is everyone doing?”

Wanda sighs and leans back in her chair as she waits for you to be looked at again. Nat is still with her, and her brother arrived a bit ago to keep her company. He’d asked her about the trip and kept her talking to distract her from her anxiety. Then Christine comes back to tell them what she’s found.

“I see nothing new that I'm worried about. Her scans came back similar to the ones taken earlier today, so I’m just going to start her on stronger meds for now before rechecking in a couple of days.”

Wanda’s relieved to hear this and after talking to you about the plan, you two are sent upstairs to your rooms to relax. You slept for a lot of the flight, but you feel like you could sleep for the rest of the day and through the night. After telling your friends that you’ll catch up with them soon, you take Wanda’s hand and kiss it with a sigh. She’s still standing behind you as she pushes you into the room, but she slows to a stop when you speak up.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me. I’m sorry our trip was cut short.”

Wanda comes around so she’s in front of you, and she kneels down beside you with a shake of her head. She’s glad that she had time to enjoy Spain with you, but she enjoyed spending time with you anywhere, so she wasn’t too disappointed. Her main concern is you always, and she’s glad that you’re not any worse off since leaving. After being given an IV dose of the pain medication, you’d waited for it to kick in before coming up here. You were feeling better, but you knew that you had a lot of rest ahead of you.

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Wanda stands up and gets ready to push you toward the bedroom so you can nap, but she hesitates as you spin around in your chair and shoot her a pleading look.

“About that sandwich…is now a good time?”

Wanda just laughs before she nods and redirects you toward the kitchen. She’s glad to hear that you still have an appetite because this is usually a good indication that you’re not feeling too bad. Wanda rolls you into the kitchen and parks you near the fridge so you can supervise as she gets things ready. Before she does anything though, your wife kisses your forehead and then cheek with a loving smile.

“Sure thing, detka. Coming right up.”

You smile gratefully as your wife leaves you to get started on your lunch. You can feel yourself start to fade again, but you want to hold out for as long as possible. As you watch Wanda move around the kitchen, you’re overwhelmed by a familiar warm feeling that fills your chest and makes you smile widely. You’re reminded of how lucky you are to have Wanda in your life, and when she brings you your sandwich, you quickly set it aside. Watching as you put the plate on the counter, Wanda frowns and wonders what’s wrong. She doesn’t get a chance to ask before you’re reaching out to grab her hands.

“What-?”

She’s cut off as you pull her forward and gently set her in your lap before putting your arms around her. She squeals in surprise and almost tries to get up but you hold her tight with a smile.

“Thank you, love.”

Wanda carefully puts her arms around your shoulders before she smiles and leans in for a kiss. You’re still smiling when her lips meet yours, and you hold her tighter as she leans further into you.

“Anything for you, Y/n.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #silver springs #silver springs drabble #mob au

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quinnonimp · 1 year

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Please tell us more about your tntduo priest/vampire fic I am literally begging you

SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LATE LMFAO I NEVER CHECK MY INBOX i rly need to check more often i have so many asks fuck

but aaaa im so glad u wanna know more 👉👈

for once i dont rly have super many thoughts abt an au ? tbh ? like its been very difficult for me to come up with ideas since i dont know that much abt vampires n i dont know that much abt catholicism/christianity

a little of what ive had in mind so far though is cwil is this very lonely priest with no family left who took over the church for his late father - but doesnt actually believe in god all that much, just pretends for the sake of keeping something

then one night some mysterious guy shows up near closing hours and wilbur is already pretty scared for no other reason than just the vibes . they dont talk but after a while of wil staring the pretty guy just gives him a big smile and leaves

the mysterious guy is vampire cquackity, hes just here cause he was hiding away from a hunter (probably ctechno filling this role)

in this universe vampires arent particularly affected by religion itself but just weakened by faith . quackity couldnt feel anything coming from the church, so he assumed it was empty since it was late anyway . turns out there is someone there ! but it doesnt effect him, and quackity realizes the priest himself has no faith, and becomes very interested

because of this new found fascination quackity decides to come back at a similar hour every day, and luckily for him barely anyone is there on weekdays/past 6pm, so he doesnt have to worry about being weakened (and especially not for hunters since they wouldnt expect a vampire to be in a church) . wilbur and him still havent talked but quackity still has fun observing his behaviour, and wilbur just feels a teensy bit less lonely having someone come back so consistently and every single day while he closes

one day however when wilbur decides hes finally gonna talk to this guy, quackity isnt there, and wilburs so confused as to why he feels so sad about it . why does he miss the presence of this stranger hes never even talked to ? he spends the whole rest of the night distracted thinking about the mysterious guy

the next day at around 3-4am when wilbur enters the church to start his day, he sees the presence he missed so much yesterday

though wilburs not as happy as he should be, as the stranger is covered in blood next to a corpse and about to jump him

so yea idk ive been trying to work on the fic, hopefully i actually manage to get smth cool outta it and post it but we'll see !! for now im just drawing the blorbos

if anyone has extra ideas n whatnot or wanna ask more abt the au feel welcome to do so, i cant promise ill be very interesting but i will be very glad to answer lmao

#tntduo #quinnotalk #helpimsentient #mailbox #tumblrimp

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nasturtiumsforbreakfast · 1 month

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so 3am is the greatest time to be waking up out of nowhere to be thinking uhhhhh thoughts, huh?

Anyway, in ref to a uh a whole buncha my "regency kink" posts (tagged, out of the joy of causing problems, for the era and not royalty) that I 100% am not finding and linking right now fuck you read my posts boy uhhhhm okay so

Imagine, if you will, it's a lovely summer's day in the countryside in the tail-end of the 1830s and you are a troublesome goose a gentleman's valet with a miraculous Sunday afternoon off work

For those who are unaware, because my mildly kinky "imagine if" posts seem to have to come with a history lesson, because I am a crazy idiot, right (I think the blacksmith one had a line about how tricky filigree work is, istg, what is wrong with me I'm the autistic child of artisans) - a valet is the guy like whatshisface Bennett? in Downton Abbey, who like helps the gent get dressed n stuff of a morning/evening, looks after all the personal stuff same way a butler looks after the household stuff, yeah, cs posh people in them days had folk to do legitimately everything for them, huh? Lazy fucks. And also labour laws were virtually non-existant in the 30s, to such an extent I would use any of my time off to just goddamn sleep, never mind leisure activities - I mean, I do that now, tbf, but I'm not hugely cut out for retail work, lbr

Anyway, we are imagining a fantasy 1830s where it's a lovely summer's day and you are/I am a servant magically not tired to the bone cs your boss is actually a good one rather than a more-historically-accurate absolute dickhead, yeah? So you got a Sunday avo off, right, free to do what you like instead of various clothes-repairing chores or whatever, and you are walking from the big house down to the village in the sunshine to go uh. To uh. To.

We are also living in a fantasy 1830s where I have easy access to testosterone and uh and a strap and nobody gives a fuck about it, right? Because I say so. I don't want to have to imagine myself a cis man just cs of the era. Hey, if Dr James Barry can get on alright then fellas so can I, right? Tho I think he might've been late Victorian times tbh. Shhhh the only historical accuracy we care about is the nice stuff okay let's ignore everything else for now

So we are using this miraculously progressive and sunshiny 1830s Sunday afternoon off to walk down the lane and go fuck the village baker, okay?

Because you can

Still feels all a bit something to be doing this on a Sunday - I'm not religious, nor am I in any way a churchgoer, but I did unforch recently descend from evangelists so I do have the unhealthy weight of xian guilt on my shoulders for no good goddamn reason anyway - and it would've been some kinda consideration, too, in the 1830s, when going to church and believing all that toxic rot is just what you did, no questions

Ooh I don't have a priest kink but I do wonder if the local priest in this imaginary ye olde village would be ahem interested, now there's a thought to think about doesn't he want to do right by one of his congregation, hm? Doesn't he want to give members of his flock what they need? (What they need is to corrupt him, fill him full of cum and bring him low enough to beg them and G-d for it - are we using singular they? Your choice)

Uh.

Anyway, it's a bit of something to be fucking men on a Sunday, engaging in various sins by choice, y'know

I don't have the headspace at almost-4am to write out a thing as I did the blacksmith and his lordship, obviously, not that that was well-received anyhow, obviously, because this seems to be the wrong forum for my rambley ADHD writing, if anywhere's the right forum, which I doubt

But, imagine, if you will, all dressed up in typical 1830s attire, best you can afford on a valet's salary, and flour all over your shirt and showing on your unbuttoned waistcoat, its skirt flipped up and front-fall trousers round your knees, to allow the baker um access to fuck you, rough, bent over, holding on to the low back wall that splits the bakery from the inn for dear life - maybe the innkeeper comes along to see what's the commotion while his wife and everyone's at church, and joins, fucks your mouth to shut you up, hm? Making too much noise, they'll hear you from St Peter's, won't they, and then what will we do? Better to shut you up, just like this, and god don't it feel good?

Hm. I was originally thinking of um of being in the baker's position, as described, railing this big strong incredibly capable man til he's wrecked with it, y'know, but there we go, hey

#regency kink #the era not the king. cs uh. cs I can?#someone tell me what other tag I ought to put this in please for the love of god #there must be someone out there who's post/thinking the same crazy shit that seems to get me off a bit huh there has to be right?#nsft text

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a-single-white-crow · 6 months

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What got me into witchcraft?

I usually respond to this question with a simple "I'm not sure" but right now, at 4am I suddenly remembered.

I got into witchcraft to survive.

When I turned 12 I had clinical depression. I'd always been sadder than most kids but it only became truly clinical at 12.

I don't remember much of those years. And memories suddenly appear as they do now. But either way.

I remember being so desperate to just have my mind be quiet. I was willing for anything. And that's when I randomly found those meditation YouTube videos. I had nothing to lose it was this or drastic measures. So I started trying it out. I'd sit and burn things (with fire safety in mind thankfully) as I focused on the video and blessedly I noticed that it actually helped. My brain for at least 20 minutes wasn't rotting away within my skull. It was quiet, still, I didn't feel like I was falling apart, I didn't feel rage practically boiling to the surface. I was completely calm.

So I kept doing it. On very bad days I wouldn't even bother. Just burning scrap after scrap and watching the smoke. I preferred burning incense along with any little bit of things. Seeing how quickly the fire developed items helped me in some way. Perhaps it was a physical representation of how my rage made me feel. Consuming all in its path. But all I knew was that it was a way to release my anger.

On better days, I'd light only a single stick of incense and play my videos listening to the stupid music and sometimes if listen to a few guided ones (I tend to avoid these now). I'd meditate each day after school. It was all I had that kept the dreams away. And slowly I began to feel more whole. By the time I got into high-school I was going better. I was still sad. I couldn't be bothered to out on clothes wearing pajamas and slippers to school. But I was going to school. I was having good days. And I had strength.

I used to go to these camps. Weird camp outs for the ladies of my church (I got my first girlfriend that way ha!).

While I was there one year one of the leaders in charge of a different group of women, asked to hug me saying "I sense you have many angels with you."

This was nuts. Angels was nonsensical and I didn't do physical touch. I politely declined and tried to move on.

But I couldn't. Because it kept happening. People kept claiming I had strong protective entities and others just wanted to be near me for a bit.

When I spoke to my father about it, he told me he always had that happening, and it was a normal experience.

But nobody else had this. Just me and my father.

So I started doing research. I wanted to know why people kept claiming I had angels especially with the fact that I wasn't sure I believed in angels (still don't. At least not like Angels Angels)

I'm not certain how I figured it out. That part is still lost in the static of my memories. But I do know exactly who is with me.

My ancestors.

My strongest being my grandfather.

I have no doubt it's him. I've been able to send him to protect others, and his love is such a strong feeling.

The others I'm unsure of the specifics.

But after I learned of my ancestors fully, I wanted to learn of to communicate. How to show my appreciation. And I found Tarot first and witchcraft in general second.

Though I had been studying witchcraft long before I just never realized that's what it was exactly and I didn't want to call myself a witch being a man and all.

It took a bit before I took on the title. But without it I surely wouldn't be here now.

#long post #witchblr #witchcraft #witch community #male witch #trans witch #witch #baby witches #divination #witch story #ancestor work #spiritualjourney #spirit work

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leoinjapan · 2 months

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A week in Colombia

Day 1

i arrived at El Dorado Airport at 4am, having slept not that great on a six-hour overnight flight from Toronto. my friend had booked me a taxi straight from the airport to her apartment; taxis here are really cheap, around 4 pounds to get across the entire city. Uber is also widely used here, although you should sit in the front seat as they are not actually allowed in Bogotá. apartments in Bogotá are really well protected, with different security measures to keep you safe. first i napped for a few hours and then had a delicious vegan bowl made by my friend's lovely mom. then my friend showed me around her neighbourhood, Chapinero, a historically queer district in north Bogotá. i learned how Colombia is a really queer and trans-friendly country, where gay marriage is legal and trans people have complete right of self-determination to change their documents, even with non-binary options, as well as gender-affirming healthcare!

for lunch my friend treated me to patacones, a mashed plantain baked to a crisp and topped with delicious toppings. she also showed me some awesome bookstores, such as Nada and Tornamesa. i tried delicious local chocolate from Fruto de Cacao. the weather was amazing at around 23 degrees celcius, not too sunny but pleasantly warm with no wind. luckily i did not suffer immediately from the altitude sickness that many tourists get when they arrive, as Bogotá is the highest capital city above sea level in the world.

we went back to watch a documentary about Lemebel, a queer icon in latin america (my friend was scandalized i had not heard of him). then i napped a bit more, which was a mistake; i woke up feeling so sick that i couldn't eat!

then we went to Theatron, latin america's biggest queer club. the streets that were empty before came alive with music and thousands of people. we had hotdogs from Nomáda Bogotá which were lovely, but sadly i was too sick to eat. Theatron has over 15 rooms with different types of music and live shows, and a capacity of over 6000. entry is less than £10 on saturdays (cheaper on other days) and includes a drink (gatorade for me)! my friend tells me more and more straight people come to the club now, but it was still very queer-friendly and one of the coolest club experiences i have ever had.

Day 2

for lunch my friend took me to a delicious vegan restaurant that does all traditional Colombian food, called Maria Candela. i tried ajiaco, a Bogotán dish of a herbal soup made with different kinds of local potatoes and chicken. it was so yummy, cheap and super filling!

i then went on a general tour of Bogotá hosted by Beyond Colombia. the guide was super enthusiastic and taught me so many things i didn't know about Colombia. we walked around important sights in its history, tasted the local traditional alcohol called chicha (fermented corn and sugar), and walked around the iconic La Candelária district. it was so colourful, full of street art and intricate crafts.

we then went to see Past Lives (again) at the cinema. the cinema quality was amazing, and the popcorn tasted really good! during Oscars season, you can get a pass to all the Oscars movies in february.

Day 3

in the morning i took an Uber to the bottom of the Monserrate, a mountain in Bogotá. it costs about £6 for a return journey on the cable car up the mountain to its peak, where you will find a church, a tourist market, and some restaurants. you can hike up the mountain yourself, but it takes around 2 hours. on the holy week, people walk up barefoot or on their knees on a sacrificial pilgrimage up the mountain to the church. in the church is the Black Madonna, based on the same iconic statue on the Montserrat mountain in Catalonia.

(this is also when i found out i got into the university of tokyo starting in april!)

it was super foggy on the 3000 metre high mountain and we could barely see the city. it started to pour with rain and my umbrella was not enough. unfortunately i got cold and wet without a coat, and was also exposed to high levels of UV up on the mountain, which led me to develop a fever later that evening...

i tried a bit of coca tea on the mountain. in Colombia and other countries in the Andes mountain range, people have been consuming coca leaves for centuries. coca tea contains a small amount of cocaine with mild stimulant effects, much like caffeine in coffee, and is completely harmless. Colombians use it to cure altitude sickness, nausea, and other stomach upsets.

i took my friends i made on the tour to Maria Candela again and i tried frijolada, which is a wholesome bean soup that i really loved. after that, i went to the Botero Museum/MAMU which has some really unique art from international artists, paintings by the iconic Colombian painter Botero, and a current exhibition highlighting indigenous culture and art (all in Spanish). it's free to visit so i definitely recommend going!

when my friend heard i felt sick, she took me to get aguapanela. panela is unrefined sugar, which you put in hot water for a nice soothing beverage. the Bogotá tradition is to put pieces of cheese in it, let them melt and then eat them! since i'm vegan i had it with bread. it was very delicious

Day 4

i had a restless night with my fever and decided to stay at home for the day. my tour guide even cancelled, so it felt like a sign not to go anywhere.

my friend's mom was an absolute angel and made me delicious vegan food and hot drinks and before long i felt a lot better

Day 5

in the morning i went on a war and peace-themed walking tour, also operated by Beyond Colombia. our guide was super knowledgeable, condensing centuries' worth of history into three hours. i learned so much about Colombia's recent history and controversies and i highly recommend this tour.

after that, i went to the Gold Museum (or Museo del Oro), which houses pre-Hispanic golden artefacts. in the indigenous culture, gold represented the sun and did not have monetary value; it was used in crafting and often offered back to nature. El Dorado is not a place, but an ancient ritual in which gold is thrown into the water, particularly a large lake near Bogotá; the Spanish dug up a lot of it and melted it into gold bars, but this museum still holds a large collection of 35,000, which is still only about 1% of the original artifacts that have been sacrificed in the ritual over the millennia.

at the end of the day my friend invited me to a collage-making workshop, which was really fun and therapeutic!

Day 6

at 8am in the morning, i took an Uber to the Paloquemao fruit market, where i was to have an AirBnB Experiences tour with my friend's brother, Victor. i was stunned by the amount of fruit i had never seen before. i tried different avocados, guavas, berries, cactus fruit, melons, and more. my favourite was the guanabana, or custard apple, which tastes exactly like custard!

the market is also full of beautiful flowers, vegetables, souvenirs and all sorts. i recommend visiting, though take an Uber as apparently it is not in the safest of neighborhoods.

in the evening i went to the National Museum, which houses an impressive amount of information about Colombian history. there are currently a few exhibitions about indigenous cultural revival. i was most excited to see a small exhibition about Las Traviesas, a collective of displaced indigenous trans women in Colombia, which was a beautiful and inspiring display of art.

towards the end of my visit, i developed a migraine. i got a tasty dinner at Wok and then went home to recover. thank you again to my friend and her mom for taking care of me!

on the day there was a big protest in the city centre in support of the current president. it's better to try and avoid the city centre when there are big protests.

Day 7

me and my friend went on a day trip to Villa de Leyva, a town north of Bogotá in the beautiful Boyacá region, famous for its emeralds. the bus trip took between 4 and 5 hours each way.

the town is absolutely gorgeous, full of cobbled streets and old colonial architecture. it was more touristy than Bogotá, with lots of tourist shops and some tasty food options. i got gelato made with tamarind and tajín (chilli flakes). for lunch, we went to La Maria Bistro which had an incredible brocolli dish that was the best thing i've eaten in a long while.

we went to Casa Terracota, the world's largest ceramic structure. it took 15 years for the architect to bake the house, during which it fell down three times. the construction was incredible and it was a very unique experience. usually the tour is only in spanish, but the guide did a great job translating it to english for me. the crazy thing was that he did his study abroad in Paignton, which is the town next to my hometown!

Day 8

on the last day, my friend and i went into the city to buy souvenirs for my family. there are tons of tourist shops and stalls in La Candelária, and we did our best research to find out which crafts were authentic. for lunch we want to Maria Candela again as the whole city was having a vegan burger festival with several restaurants participating.

in the afternoon we went to see Perfect Days, a really beautiful japanese movie. the cinema in Bogotá was really nice, with great quality screens and tasty snacks.

in the evening we went to my friend's favourite taco place, Insurgentes. the vibe was great and the tacos were delicious (mostly meat but some vegan).

for our final stop, we went to Chiquita. much smaller than Theatron but with a majority queer crowd, the music was on point and the atmosphere was great. there were even a couple of drag performances which apparently happen every night. i really loved this bar, which had a mixture of 90s/2000s pop and latin pop. i could have stayed there much longer but i had to get home to sleep before my flight at 9am.

i am the first to admit i knew nothing about Colombia (or even South America in general) before coming to Bogotá. i was eager to learn, and yet i learned far more than i ever imagined. Colombia exceeded my expectations 100 times over.

the internet is full of scary stories about Colombia, yet i felt safer here than i ever have in the US, for example. the city is so vibrant, colourful, and creative, full of life and soul. it is also the most queer-friendly capital i have been to, with the most amazing clubs you could imagine.

i learned so much about the history of the country, the language, the food, the art, and the gorgeous nature that's around every corner.

but what makes Colombia so, so great is the people. everybody here was so friendly and made such an effort to make me feel welcome, even though i know barely any Spanish. the city feels so alive with passion, hope, and resistance. i am so, so grateful to my friend Estefanía for taking care of me while i was there, looking after me and showing me the real Bogotá, making sure i knew where to go and what to do. she really is the best of us, and i will never forget her kindness 💕

i am so grateful to her incredible mother as well for nursing me back to health when i was sick!

i would come back to Colombia in a heartbeat, but until then, i have to get on the language apps!

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dcbbw · 1 year

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Tuesday Teasers

Well, I missed Sunday Six and no telling if I’ll manage a WIP Wednesday, so settling for Tuesday Teasers. I am looking forward to returning to these stories, my HYAW story, and finishing the Platinum AU update.

Baby steps.

For now, I have snippets from two stories no one asked for to share with you all. Portion sizes are larger since there are only two of them, and also I feel I haven’t shared/posted in forever.

As usual, all work is in a state of rough draft, and (eventually) published work may differ.

Please note, Sins of the Father contains mature themes, and the snippet may not be suitable for all readers.

Sins of the Father (Choices crossover: TRR/TRH; PM; VoS):

The priest turned his rolling desk chair so he was facing the girl, his eyes taking in her appearance: onyx-colored hair pushed away from her pale face with a headband; pansy-blue eyes that were now filled with fear and unshed tears. Full, pink-glossed lips that made his cock jump with anticipation. Her school uniform fit her trim physique like a glove; he paid especial attention to the way her budding breasts pushed against the starched cotton of her shirt.

He shouldn’t be doing this; this new generation of parents weren’t like previous ones. They didn’t know how to respect the Church or keep their mouths shut. Recently the school, and indeed the Church had been slammed with numerous lawsuits, all stemming from sexual misconduct at the hands of the priest, Father Joseph, or Poppa Joe as he was known throughout the community.

The Father wasn’t worried about losing his job. He was too well-connected in the city to people on both sides of the law. Over the decades he had held his position at the St. Joan of Arc’s Academies and Rectory, he had been reprimanded by his Cardinal, but never too severely.

There were no marks or bruises to show the children had been beaten.

The schools held 100% graduation rates, with children under his tutelage scoring highest in statewide testing.

His church brought in the most money and did the most for donations towards the underserved in the community.

The priest had helped build the neighborhood, encouraging and inviting

No, Father Joseph would not be leaving the Arc, as the neighborhood was known, anytime soon.

Besides, this was Emmeline’s daughter. Emme understood the importance of obedience to God’s servants; surely, she had passed this down to her daughter.

“Penelope,” he spoke softly, almost pleasantly.

The girl, whose eyes had been transfixed on his white clerical collar, looked up in trepidation. The priest’s clean-shaven face was kindly with twinkling pale blue eyes covered by rimless glasses; his lips held a ready smile. There were some slight wrinkles lining his face, but he looked far younger than his 60+ years. His hair, brown with some gray sprinkled in, was neatly combed with a side part.

“We don’t have much time, dear. Lift your skirt for me.”

Penelope shook her head. “I don’t want to, Father,” she whispered through a sob.

The priest stared at her for a moment before opening a desk drawer, removing a thick wooden ruler. Without a word, the metal-edged stick slapped her across her cheek. With a yelp of pain, Penelope’s palm flew to cover the now-reddened skin.

“Don’t make me ask again.” Father Joseph tapped the ruler threateningly against his palm. “Lift. Your. Skirt.”

Eat. Pray. Love.

A pajama-clad Liam stood at the rain-splattered window, looking down at the deserted street below. The New Moon illuminated wet pavement, streaks of cream-colored lighting glistening beneath him. The world was silent, as it usually was this time of morning, right before night reluctantly gave way to day and slumber navigated its way to wakefulness.

He wondered how many 4am’s he’d seen so far in his lifetime.

Too many.

Some, like this one, were silent; only him, his thoughts, and the darkness.

Others had been filled with the furtive, the clandestine: Liam had seen hookers giving blowjobs in alleys; businessmen buying drugs; rats burrowing into garbage bins.

Still others had been filled with alcohol fueled passion: People clinging to their last call from some bar, desperately clutching and pawing and kissing while hoping this person would be the one.

He had witnessed all of this and more. All from the safety of rooms: his chambers, a Presidential suite, or a penthouse.

He was always an observer. Even in his own life.

Liam stood, watching nonplussed as the love of his life methodically packed her belongings.

“What … what are you doing?” he demanded in a dumbfounded tone.

Riley Brooks glanced over at him before placing folded pants and skirts into the open suitcase sitting on her bed.

“We’ve discussed this Liam. I am no longer staying in this … deathtrap!”

“You have been defended and protected at every turn, Riley! That will always continue!”

Riley exhaled a loud sigh before turning to fully face her former fiancé.

“Liam, you don’t get it … or maybe you’re used to it. But ever since Applewood, things have gone from dreams-come-true to a nightmare I may never wake up from.

“First, Tariq … which I really don’t give two fucks about because I know what I did and didn’t do. But to discover your own FATHER put that plan in motion, and we’re helpless to do anything about it?

“The orchards were BURNED TO THE GROUND by SoE!

“ASSASINS! Your father got killed! DRAKE WAS SHOT by a bullet meant for ME!

“And I’m supposed to be okay not just being associated with the target of all this, but to agree to put a target on my back as well?”

She turned back to the suitcase. “I cannot and will not do that.”

Liam bit his lip in an attempt to hold back tears. “I LOVE YOU, Riley! I would die for you!” he croaked.

“I’d rather you live for me,” she whispered in reply.

She reached for a small white cardboard box before facing Liam again. “Here, this is for you.”

Liam stared at the box in his palm. “What is it?”

“Your pearl, your ring, and the necklace your father gave me.”

Liam’s eyes were wide as he wildly shook his head. “NO! These are for YOU!”

He attempted to return the jewelry, but Riley grasped his wrist with one hand, and pushed his fingers closed over the box with the other.

Riley’s voice cracked slightly as she spoke. “No, not me, Liam. They’re for the woman you’re going to marry.”

His head lifted when he felt a palm press gently against his arm. A smile formed on his lips as he gazed at his wife, her face puffy with sleep, and eyes filled with concern and uncertainty. Even now, she still worried that he regretted his decision.

He did not.

“Hey,” she whispered, “why are you awake so early?”

He leaned in, snatching a kiss from her lips. “Just thinking.”

Her palm slid down the sleeve of his pajama top to take his hand in hers. “Come back to bed?”

His eyes slid slowly down her body, tempting curves hidden beneath silk fabric. “Excellent suggestion,” he replied as he followed her back to their bedroom.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising0308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @bbrandy2002 @eversoaringqueen12 @queenmiarys

#dcbbw writes #wips #more things no one asked for #writeblr #writers of tumblr

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rosefrancaise8 · 1 year

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VENICE

One and a half days in Venice - a gift our itinerary offered up as soon as we decided to put Italy first and France second. We caught a water taxi from our hotel’s boat landing to the Marco Polo airport at 4am this morning. Waiting in the hushed darkness for the sound of a boat engine, ducking awkwardly into the cabin and then thudding across the open lagoon in the pitch dark, it felt like we were on a solo adventure all our own - but as we arrived another two water taxis moored alongside us and the departure terminal was heaving with bleary-eyed travellers just like us who might also have been thudding along the lagoon to catch their 6am flights thinking they were the only ones. A wonderful exit that we will always remember.

We packed what we could into our short stay in the Hotel Ca D’oro in Cannaregio - a Vivaldi Four Seasons violin concert in the church of Santa Maria della Visitazione on the waterfront near San Marco described on our brochure as a jewel of Venetian architecture - and an exhibition of Vittore Carpaccio’s 15th century drawings and paintings at the Doge’s Palace. We saw two panels painted later in his career that had sat either side of the original organ in the church we visited in Koper, Slovenia - and a centrepiece of that church that had been removed for this exhibition, leaving the altar and the tour guide bereft.

In his younger days, Carpaccio made exquisitely detailed charcoal and pencil portrait drawings as studies for his paintings. Much later, when inspiration had started to fade, he had these familiar faces to fall back on. I was reminded of my late aunt who skilfully and lovingly created a family photo album for her sister (my mum) about 50 years ago and when her own memory was fading many years hence found so much joy in what she had created - a beautiful aide memoire in which everyone had been named and given a reference number. I hope Carpaccio looked back on his early creations with the same satisfaction.

In between the concert and the exhibition were Select spritzes, i cicchetti snacks, molti espressi, thousands of steps and a trip to Lido on the vaporetto so that we could make best use of our 2-day travel pass. Such an extraordinary place - so vivid you can’t take it in, vulnerable and yet resolute in the face of all these strangers dragging suitcases across its paths in lock step hour after hour, day after day. I can’t imagine not being one of them again.

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Christmas in July: Bonus Day 30

This was inspired by a comment from @tikatu on the original Chapter 9 about Kayo meeting Sara which spiraled a bit out of control because I love Kayo. Like... so so much it’s ridiculous. She’s tricky for me to write since I never quite seem to get her personality right for what I like but I hope y’all enjoy today’s bonus!

TW: minor violence and swearing

AO3 link here!

“Damn, this poor town. Back-to-back rescues,” Kayo says as she flips through the current mission log. Thunderbird hits a patch of rough air and she jostles in her seat. “First a sinkhole, now this. And during Christmas too!”

Scott peers back at her. His eyes are as tiredly bloodshot as hers. “That’s North Dakota for you.”

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever been.”

“Not once?”

Kayo shakes her head. “We went to Wyoming a couple of times when we were little.”

“Out to that old cabin, that’s right!” Scott snaps his fingers at the memory. It wasn’t soon after the Kyranos started coming around more often and Kayo would spend long chunks of time with them. Jeff bought this old dingy cabin way back in the mountain foothills. “But really? Not even once?”

“Nope.”

“What about South Dakota?”

“I had a mine collapse out in the Black Hills area. Two older guys that found it on their property and wanted to go exploring.”

The conversation peters out as they approach the danger zone. The sun is shining down on the wreckage of a steam engine spilling its cargo out. Unfortunate in and of itself, but the minorly toxic liquid is seeping straight into the edge of town and people’s homes. Kayo isn’t quite sure what John expects them to do in terms of helping, but she’s never one to back down from a challenge.

Scott lands Thunderbird One on higher ground. He joins her in One’s hull, pulling on the extra chemical protection suits. Once comfortable, Scott pops open the hath. A gust of cold air fills the cabin. Scott jumps out first and shocks the both of them when he lands waist deep in snow.

“Damn! We need Virgil out here with that flamethrower!”

“Why does everything have to be so cold in Northern winters?”

“Wait, don’t tell me… John’s given me the lecture on it before,” Scott says as he squints his eyes while thinking. He puts on his best deadpan, Eye in the Sky voice. “The Northern hemisphere has less uncovered land mass than in the South. Something, something albedo. Something, something water currents.”

Kayo whacks him on the arm. But she’s laughing into her helmet all the same. Lucky for them, John’s asleep and not hearing any of their conversation.

They trudge on through the snow. Kayo swears she can feel the cold seep through her suit despite knowing it’s all mental. The edge of town comes into view around a ridge, as does the twisted metal of the train wreck. There’s no fire to put out as the train’s safety systems did their job in that sense. Kayo stays back to survey the damage and make a note of what houses look to be in danger from the chemicals seeping out.

Scott jogs ahead when he spots a crew of cleanup specialists. He stands out in his blaze orange safety suit against the white snow and Carhartt jackets of the crew. Kayo will gladly let him deal with getting the low down of the situation. She’s much too tired after being awoken at her 4AM to deal with folks, even if they are trying to help.

“Thunderbird S, we’re heading out to, uh, Aspen Ridge. It’s a new development sort of thing and they’ve got a few folks that need assistance.”

“F.A.B., Thunderbird One. Are we doing anything about the spill?”

“Negative. These fellas here have that part figured out. They just needed our help getting everyone out to safety.”

“How far is that?”

Scott pauses as he talks to a short woman. “They said juts up the hill near the church. They’ve got trenches started to be dug to catch the spill but it’s going to pass straight through those people’s homes to get there”

Kayo catches up to Scott and they make their way towards the development. The chemical sludge is higher here. It’s pooled atop the snow and flowed through the houses like a flood. Brains promised that their suits would protect them, but he couldn’t say the same for the citizens without protective gear.

The first houses are filled with worried older folks and a man holding onto his Husky for dear life. Scott calls over Thunderbird and remote carries people in a multi-person harness out to the church. Kayo takes on the role of strapping each person in while Scott focuses on fighting against the wind.

“Ex-cuse me!”

“Oh God, no,” Scott says as his body freezes. Kayo looks to him funny, nudging him to continue climbing up the side of the house.

“What’s up?”

“I said! Excuse me!”

“It’s her.”

Kayo pops her head over the ledge of the roof. Scott is standing off to one side for Kayo to get a good look. It’s a family of four: husband, wife, two kids. A white picket fence deal. Around the family are packed bags of luggage more numerous than Kayo can count. And standing in the front of the herd with arms crossed, hair highlighted, coat puffed, is-

“I am Sara Bluneberg, and I thought I had you fired!”

Scott sighs. “No ma’am. You did not fire me nor am I about to be fired from International Rescue.”

The husband jumps in. Kayo remembers her now from the harrowing tale of Scott actually punching someone on a mission. EOS had a gleeful time scrubbing the internet of any evidence. “Don’t you go punching us again! We’ll have you sued!”

“Please, let’s all cooperate and load you onto One. We’ll get you somewhere safe.”

Sara scoffs. Her kids look utterly embarrassed at her behavior. “We have been waiting hours and if you think I’m about to ride in that rickety thing, you must be stupid in the head!”

Kayo takes pity on her older brother. He’s exhausted and not about to get another tongue lashing from Grandma for using violence. Scott turns off his exterior sound input and focuses on dropping down One’s rescue harnesses. Kayo, however, does not have the same restrictions.

“Listen, lady. You are not the center of this universe. We’ve been helping people get to safety all night and we’d appreciate your cooperation.”

“How dare you! We have kids present! Watch your damn mouth.”

“So what?” Kayo asks. She smirks, getting right up in Tim’s face. “It’s not like I swore or anything.”

“You-you!” Tim sputters.

One’s harnesses drop in the midst of the crowd. Scott signs to Kayo something short and sweet about keeping his sound off. She takes over directing the family.

“Now then, who’s first? Kids together or a parent with each?”

“Well first, you can make sure our things get into that rocket ship. We have a real estate business, you know!”

“I know.” Kayo does. The conversation with Scott fills in her mind and she remembers the insistent nature of declaring how important real estate agents are. “But we aren’t taking your things. They’ll be safe away from the chemical spill up here. We only care about people.”

“Mama, I’ll go first with Dad,” the little boy suggests. She smacks away his hand on her coat.

“Oh, no, no! We will not be going through this again.”

“Ma’am, I don’t think you should get much closer.” Kayo’s words a warning, but she intends the woman takes them as a challenge. And oh boy, is she satisfied.

“Is that a threat? Are you threatening me? Tim, hold my sunglasses,” Sara snaps as she rips the offending accessory off her face. “Listen here you bitch-”

Kayo snags the wagging finger in her face and uses it as a guide to slip her left-hand down Sara’s right. She braces her thumb across the back of the woman’s hand and grabs her wrist. Using an old aikido move she hasn’t had to break out in quite some while, Kayo forces Sara to her knees with minimal force. The woman yelps; her husband tries to come to her rescue but Kayo holds him off with a finger wagging in the air. It’s easy to drag Sara through the roof’s snow and lock her into place in the harness. “Looks like we have our first volunteer!” She sends a goofy smile to the two little kids with the unfortunate families.

With the fake pretense of tightening a strap around Sara’s shoulder, Kayo leans in close to the woman’s ear.

“We have the power to erase you from this Earth. Be thankful we are using our power to rescue your sad, pathetic life. Your family has patronized mine and I don’t take kindly to that. I am not a bitch, Sara Bluneberg of Bluneberg Real Estate.”

Oh, Kayo is so ready for her last line. A finishing blow, something straight out of the cheesy action movies. And Sara’s wide eyes and tightly drawn mouth fits the scene.

“I am the bitch.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #kayo kyrano #christmas #christmas in july #tw: minor violence #tw: violence #tw: swearing

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