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lillian-gallows · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 7: Virginity with Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3552 (Got a little carried away again) Warnings: Loss of virginity and some anxiety about it, vaginal fingering, P in V sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, frequent check-ins, aftercare. Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Ever been so nervous about something that it’s the only thought that matters? Yeah, that’s how you’re feeling right now as you sit next to Bucky with some action movie that you aren’t paying a lick of attention to playing.

Why were you so nervous, you may ask? Because you want to give Bucky your virginity tonight.

The pair of you had been dating for almost a year, and it’s as they say, by month 3 you know if you want to be with a person. Well, you know, and the rest of that time has been spent hyping yourself up to take the leap.

And tonight was the night. That is, if you can unlock your limbs enough to reach out for him, or even just turn your head to look at him or open your mouth to speak. Or anything other than just sit there like nothing was going on in your head.

It’s not like you were a prude or anything, or even scared, okay well, maybe you were a little scared, but not because you didn’t want to do it! You craved Bucky in a way you’d never craved anyone else. He made you feel things that make your head spin and your body tingle without ever touching you.

But it didn’t help that so many people tell you how much the first-time hurts, or how you won’t cum because of it, or how most guys like girls who are experienced, even if they turn around and shit talk anyone with a body count.

Bucky never gave you any indication that any of that was anything to be worried about, he was fully aware of your lack of experience, and was not only okay with it, but seemed to take pleasure in the idea of being your first if you so chose, but there was never any pressure. Perks of dating a super soldier from the 50s, he’s a perfect gentleman.

No, the call was coming from inside the house on this one, you were freaking yourself out by thinking too much, as one does, and because of it you were thoroughly locked in place, cuddled into Bucky’s side on his couch with the man himself none the wiser to your spiraling thoughts. Or so you thought.

“You okay, Doll?” His voice was like a hammer through glass, sudden and glaringly loud.

“Huh? Yeah, why?” You managed not to stumble over the words, but it felt like you were trying too hard to sound normal.

“You sure? You’re all flushed, you feeling okay?” He asked, his flesh hand coming up to feel your forehead for a fever, and his concern made your heart flutter and crave him all the more.

You leaned into his touch as his hand trailed down your face to cup your cheek after finding no fever. “Yeah, Buck, I’m fine. Just getting lost in thought is all.” You explained vaguely, and you knew it was going to be too vague for his liking.

He reached for the T.V. remote and paused the movie so he could give you his full attention. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, concern turning to curiosity.

You drew your lower lips between your teeth as you thought, this was your chance to tell him you wanted to have sex, but the words felt lodged in your throat, choking you. “It’s um…” Your flush darkened and you could swear you saw something in his eyes change, like something occurred to him.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, Doll. It’s okay.” He assured softly, like coaxing a scared animal, but that something in his eyes told you he was pretty sure he knew where this was going, he always could read you like a book.

His warm thumb gently pulled your lips free of your teeth, brushing over it slowly to soothe the soft skin from your nerves. “I…” You started softly, trying desperately to hold eye contact, but those blue eyes made your brain short circuit, so you had to look away as the words finally rushed from your lips, stuttering and a little shaky. “I want to have sex with you.”

He’d allowed you to look away to say the words, but now that they were out, he turned you to face him once more. “You sure, Baby? We don’t gotta if you aren’t comfortable.” He asked, dark brows drawn together, but eyes soft.

“I’m sure. I’ve been sure. I just…You know I’ve never- you know.” He cracked a small smirk at the way you stumbled to dance around your words. “It’s a little daunting…” You admitted softly, earning a small understanding nod from him.

“It doesn’t have to be.” He said softly. “If you’re sure, we can take it nice and slow, and if you want to stop at any time, we can. I won’t be upset or bothered. I want you to feel good, and I want you to feel safe.” His eyes held so much sincerity that it made you a little emotional.

“I do feel safe with you, that’s why I’m sure I want this.” You promised, leaning into him subtly, eyes struggling to remain on his, too distracted by the sudden desire for his lips.

“Well, then Doll, I have one request then.” He said, his smirk returning, slow and seductive.

“Hm?” You managed, so drawn in by him.

He leaned down so his lips were right next to your ear. “I need to hear you say it again, ask me real nice.” Then he pulled back, looking at you expectantly.

Your breath caught in your throat as his ghosted over your skin with each word, then you had to struggle to form the words, not because of nerves. No, now it was because your brain was buzzing. Swallowing thickly, you opened your mouth. “Will you fuck me? Please, Buck…?” The words felt heavy and sweet on your tongue like molasses and the smile he gave you was just as sweet, but it was also hungry.

“Yeah, Doll, I can do that.” He said before standing from the couch and scooping you up, throwing you over his shoulder and pulling a shocked laugh from you.

“Bucky!” You giggled. “What are you doing?”

“My girl deserves better than a couch for her first time.” He answered, it was clear from his voice that he was grinning. “So, I’m taking you to bed.” He kicked open his bedroom door then laid you on the bed before pointing at you. “Stay.” He ordered before turning to leave the room.

“Yes, sir!” You said with a joking salute, the tension now broken enough for jokes.

He hesitated at the door and sent you a look, brow lifted as if to ask “Really?” Before he was gone. The sound of glassware and running water echoed down the hall for a moment before he returned with a glass of water in hand.

You watched as he passed you to put it on the nightstand, on the side of the bed you usually sleep on when you stay over, then turned to face you once more. “For after.” He explained when he saw your confused expression.

“Now…” He trailed off as he slowly sauntered back to stand in front of you. “I believe you asked something of me, and I intend to see it done…” He said as he bent over you, drawing your lips to his.

His stubble scratched at your skin with each twist of your lips, his hands held your cheeks for but a moment before they trailed down over your neck, then your shoulders, over your torse, bypassing your breasts, till they reached the bottom of your shirt, where they stopped, and he broke the kiss. “May I?” He breathed.

Your nod was all he needed before he was tugging your shirt up and off, leaving you in your bra and jeans, you felt goose bumps bloom over your skin as the cool air met your heated flesh, but you didn’t get to dwell on it long before he was lifting you up off the bed to sit where you’d been, settling you on his lap.

Your hands gripped at his shirt like a lifeline, as you always found yourself doing when you ended up in this position with him, he was so solid under your fingers, and you couldn’t help but cling to him like a buoy in a storm.

His hands left a trail of tingles on your skin as they moved up and down your sides before coming to rest on your hips to pull you tighter against him, stealing your breath as you felt his hardness pressing into you, pressing the stiff fabric of your jeans hard against your clit, sending a jolt down your spine and making heat pool between your thighs.

“Fuck…” He rasped, already sounding wrung out just from kissing, but he dared not stop, nor did you dare to stop him, this was exactly what you wanted, and it felt so good.

Before you realized he’d moved, his flesh hand appeared between you, deft fingers worked your zipper and button open before stopping, but rather than verbally ask, he lifted his brows in question, and when you nodded again, those hands worked your jeans down your legs till they reached halfway down your thighs, giving him enough room to cup your sex.

The heel of his hand pressed against your clit as his fingers trailed up and down over your slit, your back arched into his touch, a quiet gasp falling from your lips before you bit your lips to silence yourself, but he quickly used his other hand to pull your lip free once more.

“Lemme hear you…Wanna know how good I make you feel…Want everyone to know it’s me doin’ it.” He said before his lips met your neck in a trail of kisses and nips that you were sure would leave marks, but you loved it, you wanted him to mark you up.

His ministrations had the sounds he so craved tumbling from your lips like an avalanche, half finished gasps of his name, whimpers and cries, it felt so good, and he hadn’t even taken your panties off yet.

But that didn’t remain so for long as he moved them aside and let out a breath like he’d been punched as he felt how wet you were for him. “Fuck me…”

You let out a whimper as the very tip of his finger pressed ever so slightly, testing the waters, and when your hips wiggled, he took that as the go ahead and slowly pushed further in, letting you get used to it bit by bit, going to the first knuckle, then the second, then when it was all the way in, he curled it.

Letting out another sound your head fell forward to his shoulder, unable to stay upright any longer.

“Buck…Please…” You begged, unsure how to ask for more, unsure exactly what you were asking for.

But thankfully he seemed to know, as he withdrew just a little to press a second finger into you, stretching you more than your own two fingers ever had, it burned ever so slightly, but with how wet you were, it didn’t hurt, not in the way others talked about.

“I want you to cum on my fingers before I give you my cock…Think you can do that, Doll?” He husked into your ear.

“Mmhmm.” Your answer came out airy and high pitched, you could feel the tell-tale tension in your belly, if he kept up like this, you would have no issues doing as he asked.

After letting you get used to how full you felt with just his fingers, he curled them once more, finding that spot you’d heard of, but never felt, like it had a homing beacon tuned specifically to him, and maybe he did, he always did seem to know just what you needed.

Soon your thighs began to shake, the wet sound of his fingers working you filling the air and the smell of sex making your brain feel muddy. You felt drunk on him and how he was making you feel, and you never wanted it to stop.

But oh, how you wanted to reach the peak that was building so quickly.

“So tight, Baby…Squeezin’ me like a vice…C’mon, you’re so close, I can feel it. Cum for me.” He ordered, and like your body was waiting for his word, you came crashing down, clenching his digits and writhing on his lap with a choked gasp of half his name. “Atta girl, so good for me…” He breathed into your hair, and you could hear his smile.

He continued to work you through the aftershocks, and even as you came down you wanted more.

When he pulled his fingers from you, you knew he was going to ask if you wanted to keep going, but before he got the chance you claimed his lips with your own. “Please…” You gasped against his lips. “I wanna keep going, Bucky, please?” You managed between kisses.

“Shit…Who am I to say no when you ask like that?” He chuckled, though it was cut off by your lips. “Let’s lay you down and get these clothes out of the way.”

Lifting you once more he laid you out on the bed before standing straight, pulling his shirt off as he went and tossing it into the ether before tugging your jeans and panties the rest of the way off, tossing them away the same way while you reached back to unclasp your bra, taking a page from his book with it.

Once your clothes were handled all that was left were his own jeans, and he wasted no time in shucking them off, joined quickly by his boxers. You’d never seen Bucky naked before, and he’d never seen you fully nude either. You both were used to seeing each other shirtless, but this was different.

He was beautiful. Muscled defined, but still padded by a bit of softness, a dusting of hair over his chest that looked soft and trail of hair leading from his bellybutton to the thick thatch at his base.

That led your eyes to lock on his cock, thick and long, but no where near as terrifying as some of the dicks you’d seen in porn. A little voice in your head bade you to put it in your mouth, but from the way he was breathing as he looked down at you, like he was starving, you had a feeling he wasn’t in the mood for that right then.

“God, you’re beautiful…” He said as he joined you on the bed, your legs naturally parting to make room for him as he settled over you. “You’re still sure?” He asked carefully, the look in his eyes making it clear that no matter how much he desired you at that moment, if you said no, he’d listen.

“Never been more sure.” You said, holding his face and pulling him into another kiss, one that he quickly took over, turning it all tongues and teeth before pulling away and taking himself in hand.

He gave himself a few pumps before lining up with you, then he stopped and pulled away, leaning over to the nightstand and yanking the drawer open. After a moment of digging, he pulled a small foil square from it.

“Buck, I’m on the pill.” You said with a lifted brow, he knew this fact already, hence why you hadn’t said anything before.

“I know, but this is easier to clean up.” He answered as he rolled it on, and his care warmed you even more than you already were, though for a slightly different reason. “Now, where was I?” He said as he returned to his previous position.

You felt his tip rest at your opening, and he held there for a second. “Deep breath, Baby…” He guided and when you obeyed, he pushed in slowly.

The burn of his fingers had nothing on this, it ached, but still not in the same way other women had told you it would, it was aided by the surplus of slick flowing from you, but even so you were thankful for how slow he was going.

His breaths were ragged as he went, you could see the bliss on his face, cut through only by the focus of care to not go faster. After a moment he stopped and looked at you. “Is it all the way in?” You gasped, feeling like you could feel him in your stomach.

He breathed a chuckle and shook his head slightly. “No, it’s about half-way, but thanks for the compliment, Doll…”

“Half-way?!” You questioned, and it made him laugh for real this time, which made you laugh too, then he tensed.

“Oh fuck…! Don’t laugh…Shit, you tightened up even more…Christ…” He moaned and it took everything in you not to start laughing again, because it never occurred to you that those muscles would flex when you laugh. “Can I keep going?” He asked, almost pleaded.

“Yeah, please.” And he did.

Now that your muscles had relaxed, the rest went in more comfortably, it still burned a little, but it didn’t feel like quite so much, and he held still again once he’d bottomed out, seemingly as much for himself as for you, as his eyes clenched shut and he was breathing slowly.

After a moment you pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Move, Buck, please.” You whispered and he did.

Oh boy, did he move.

Pulling out slowly, you could feel him rub against that spot inside again, and it felt like a wholly new thing, especially with the way his monds pressed against your clit.

As he picked up speed, finding a steady rhythm, you couldn’t keep from gripping at him wherever your hands found purchase, he felt like your last tether to this plane of existence as the rest of your body tried to ascend.

As you began to feel that knot in your belly build again, he shifted, pulling your legs up over his shoulders and practically folding you in half, this time when he pushed in, he felt somehow deeper than before, pushed harder against that spot, and he slipped a hand between your thighs to rub small circles on your clit, sending your body spasming.

The tension built faster than before, built stronger, this peak felt like a lot higher a fall, and he didn’t stop for a second. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at him, unsure of when they had closed, and he looked as blissed out as you felt.

He was watching you, and when he saw you looking at him, he smiled, somehow both shit-eating and caring at the same time, like he knew what he was doing to you, and he loved it.

“Buck…Fuck…! Please…!” You pleaded with a heavy tongue.

“That’s it, Doll…Just let it take you…” He managed, sweat dripping its way down his temple, though his rhythm never faltered. “You feel so good, grippin’ me so tight…” Then he pressed his lips to your skin right below your knee, the only place his lips could reach, but it was sweet all the same, and soon you felt the peak cresting.

Like a dam breaking you seized around him, back arching, legs shaking, nails digging into his flesh, crying out his name like the last prayer of a desperate woman.

He didn’t stop, chasing his own pleasure at the same time as helping you ride out yours, and soon you heard him gasp what sounded like your name as you felt heat low in your belly, and you realized you were pretty thankful he opted to put on a condom, you didn’t think you could move to clean yourself up.

The pair of you didn’t move for a couple long moments, too busy basking in each other and your closeness in the afterglow, but soon you felt him beginning to soften, and he had to pull out.

It felt strange, being so empty after feeling so full, you still ached, but it was a good ache, like the little bit of muscle soreness after a particularly enjoyable walk.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he sat up. “Stay here.” He ordered softly before standing and disappearing into his ensuite, there was the sound of the faucet running, then the toilet flushing, then he returned with a wet rag in hand. “This might be a little uncomfortable, but it’s better than all that drying on.” He said before gently wiping your slick from your skin, it had spread all over the insides of your thighs.

And he was right, it was a little uncomfortable because you felt so sensitive, but he was done quickly, and then he was laying down and pulling you to his chest, all warmth and musky smells.

“How was it? Everything you hoped?” He asked sweetly as he brushed your hair from your face.

“It was perfect, Buck…Thank you.” You whispered before pulling him into a kiss.

“No, Doll. Thank you for trusting me with this. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #kinktober #kinktober2023

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adore-laur · 6 months

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GOLD RUSH: PART TWO

— part one

——

Harry doesn't want to let go. He hasn't been this close to you since what feels like a lifetime ago. After a grueling year of separation, considerate greeting hugs and instinctual touches that respected boundaries can't hold a candle to this moment.

He can feel your heartbeat. The organ that once beat fiercely for him is now pounding against his own, its unsteady pulse fueling him with love.

Who is he kidding? He has always loved you. Even when you screamed at him on the other line, poisonous words creeping into every crack of his heart, he still couldn't bear the thought of never having a place in your life again. Even if that place wasn't beside you anymore.

You told him you were proud of him a mere minute ago. It was a simple statement but also a diminutive glance into your mind. What do you think about when you're pressed against him, aware of his hands on your back and the kisses left on your head? What feelings do they ignite? All Harry wants is to spread you open and lay your cards on the table, both the good and the bad ones, and just talk to you. He only sees you a handful of times a month, so the questions that have been piling in his throat beg to spill out.

He fears his patchwork heart would also spill out onto the floor, and you'd see how miserably he's been coping. Mentally draining months were spent mending the broken relationship. Yet, the last and largest shard that couldn't piece it together again was the one that was simply the dying relationship itself.

A year should be enough time to get over someone, but when that someone is his ex-wife and the mother of his beautiful child, he reminds himself that time never stops in moments of hurt. His personal life and career had to chug along even when the train constantly veered off the tracks.

The regret he feels for not putting his family first kills him inside every time he opens your door to take his daughter for half the week. It's never enough time, and to see you for much less weighs heavily on his soul. The haunting supposition of being unable to notice every tiny detail about you one day is the nail in his coffin. He remembers opening the door a few months ago to find you with shorter hair. It shouldn't have affected him the way it did, and he couldn't help but think that you probably would've asked for his opinion on it if you were still together.

He also hasn't kissed you or had sex with you in over a year. There have been no romantic dates or nights cuddled in bed, limbs tangled like the wilting vines of your love. He has not held your hand or watched you be a mother except for fleeting moments. He doesn't want those things with anyone else, so why can't you forgive him? Why can't you revive your love for him?

Harry knows asking for a revival of love is irrational.

"When do you need to be on stage?" Your voice reaches him, warm like melted honey and gentle like a balm that heals his wounds.

"Doesn't matter," he says, fixing the twisted strap of your dress. "I can be a little late."

You step away from the hug, and he feels an ache in his chest due to the loss of physical contact. "No, you can't."

He tilts his head to the side and smirks. "Says who? It's my show."

You narrow your eyes dubiously, but they slowly soften when they drift downward and take in his outfit. He'd be lying if he said he didn't plan a revealing outfit just because you were coming.

"You look handsome."

Handsome. When was the last time you called him that? He can't remember, but the word sends a tidal wave of shivers rolling across his body.

"Thank you. You look lovely, as always. How've you been?"

"Fine. Work keeps me busy." Something nearby clatters to the floor, and you nod your head toward the culprit, who has a guilty expression. "Her too."

"Not overworking yourself, are you?" Harry asks. God knows he's seen you at your worst because of it.

"Not as much as you. I still worry about you with all this traveling."

He stuffs his hands into his pockets while moving closer to you. "Yeah? You worry about me?"

You nod and look past his shoulder. He misses when you didn't shy under his gaze. "But the videos I see ease my worries. I know you're safe and having fun."

He clears his throat and asks, "What videos?"

There's a heavy lull of silence before you say, "Ones of you performing. They pop up on social media all the time. You're pretty famous if you didn't know."

He ignores your teasing because he's grasping at straws, needing to know if you still keep up with him like he does with you. "And you watch them?"

"Yeah," you say, nervously touching your earlobe. "It's hard not to with those outfits and how happy you look, you know?" You point to your daughter and add, "She loves to watch them too."

Harry roughly swallows and curls his hands into fists. Your admittance makes the ache in his heart grow tenfold. He never would have guessed.

Someone suddenly knocks loudly on the dressing room door, making him flinch. "Harry, we need to start heading to the stage! Right now, preferably!"

With a sigh, he heads over to the connected bathroom to grab his mic pack and in-ears, but not before crouching in front of his daughter. "Hey, Dad has to go," he tells her. "Gonna stay with Mama and watch me?"

She nods and lifts her arms. He picks her up before setting her on his hip and swaying her. "Do I look okay?" he murmurs.

"Mm-hmm," she hums, grabbing at the silk material of his vest.

"Good." He kisses her forehead and then rests his own against hers. "I love you, all right? Dance your heart out for me."

She impatiently squirms in his arms. He sets her down so she can play with the toys you brought and then moves to quickly fix his hair in the mirror. He can already tell tonight is going be one of his favorite shows, and it has everything to do with the fact that his two favorite people will be in the audience.

After he puts his in-ears in, he shuts the bathroom light off and shakes his arms to get any remaining pre-show jitters out. He looks at you the entire time, watching you glance around his dressing room like it's an art gallery. All of his vulnerable belongings are out in the open and on display—his shirts you used to wear stuffed in his duffel bag, printed pictures of his daughter tucked into the mesh pocket of his suitcase, and a pack of diapers he had delivered earlier today in case you forgot or ran out.

Most vulnerable, however, is his wedding ring right next to the microphone that you're about to grab for him. It's the same ring he kisses every night before he goes on stage, never having gotten rid of it because it's one of the only things he has left of the love you once had for him.

You freeze, your hand hovering over the microphone. The color drains from Harry’s face as he stands there, dreading your reaction.

"Harry..." Your voice is weakened with a certain sadness that could break him if he let it.

People gather in the room, trying to get him to start heading to the stage, but he's stuck in place. Paralyzed from fear. Everything is a blur around him, and all he can focus on is the shake of your hand when you pick up the damned ring that was cursed from the beginning. You set it in your open palm, then stare at him with a slightly parted mouth and confusion swimming in your eyes.

Harry then makes a stupid fucking mistake.

He rushes toward you, grasps your cheeks, and smears his lips over yours with pitiful desperation. His eyebrows pinch painfully, and he lets out a muted sob when you don't return the kiss. Your hands push against his chest, making him stumble back.

There's no time to apologize since he's immediately being escorted out the door and down the hallway toward the stage. He wants to look back, but he knows the expression on your face will tell him all he needs to know.

You don't love him anymore.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #gold rush series

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 2 months

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I am very interested in Labrats au stuff currently and I would love any facts about it, like things about how the experiments affected their overall health and stuff like that!!

Yeah! lemmie say some notes on those-

Every patient now, instead of having a tracking bracelet, has an implant that is put into their upper back/neck area, along the spinal cord.

(Rough idea)

These are implanted as soon as a new patient is put into the Patient Program, where they are then put through multiple "appointments" where they are either injected with the mutating agent, or put through surgical corrective procedures.

The typical mutational process takes months or even up to a year of gradual injections, the dosage of which increasing with nearly every appointment. The first appointment is simply a starter, seeing how the agent effects the patient, and seeing if they're a viable test subject or if they won't be able to withstand the mutations. (Failing test subjects will be subjected to more tests, (namely prototype versions of mutations they're planning for proper patients) or are simply disposed of. Luckily, all 6 participants of the patient program were all able to withstand the mutations, to varying degrees.

The mutations effect the patient's health in different ways, some living mostly normally despite the changes in their body, with others having many health issues due to the changes. Mark and Sam are two ends of that spectrum.

Mark, despite the occasional pain in both his "wings" and "talons", he lives mostly normally. very little harmful health issues, as all his organs function properly, aside from his brain, being mildly effected to the point it causes outbursts of violence and a seemingly lack of awareness, like an animal. However, these incidents are rare, only happening on random chance or when he's under extreme stress. He has adjusted well to his mutations, most likely due to Thatcher's help in rehabilitation.

Sam however, is not dealing with his mutations well. Due to his extreme height and weight change, he had to go through multiple corrective procedures on his heart and lungs specifically so they'd be able to support the long limbs and more effort needed to move his body. He also suffers from memory loss and delayed brain functions, digestion issues, along with poor circulation, even despite the surgery on his heart to try and fix that problem, causing his pale, cool colored skin. He has to remain under observation to make sure he doesn't collapse or over exert himself. Due to his inability to move very fast otherwise he risks passing out, MBT has plans in place just in case they need a new patient guardian.

#asks are neat #tmc labrats au #medical horror #body horror #uh. okay so maybe that was more than just a few notes but you get the idea.#edit: just realized Adam would've been a better example of someone whos mutations don't effect them that much but whoops

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bluebelleisabelle · 1 year

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With March 31st having been Trans Day of Visibility, and yesterday marking the first day of Autism Acceptance Month and Limb Loss/Limb Difference Awareness Month, I think the universe is trying to tell me to celebrate g3 Frankie stein, and I couldn’t agree more

#happy belated TDOV !!#I love you all so much #society is being a steaming pile of shit towards trans people rn #you have my full support and I’m so sorry that you all are going through this #and lots of love to the disabled community rn!!#you all slay #monster high #frankie stein #g3 monster high #mh #g3 frankie stein #monsterhighg3 #frankiesteing3 #monster high series #monster high 2023 #monster high series 2022 #monster high 2022 #monster high series 2023

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squirrellypoo · 11 months

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I will be your blood loss consultant

Hey IWTV fic writers - want to ensure your character's blood loss feels realistic? Got a situation where a petit coup has gone too far, or a character got gravely injured? I've got a unique perspective to offer to the fandom - I've lived for extended periods of time with extremely low blood counts* and I'm happy for you to send me WIP snippets or to ask for advice on blood loss storylines.

To break it down a bit further, from my experience, how being low on the different types of blood feels/affects you:

Red blood cells - Red blood cells carry oxygen around the body, so if you're low on these, you're effectively low on oxygen in the blood. This is the most obvious, but you feel really sluggish, tired, and will be breathing heavily at the slightest physical exertion. Physically, it kinda feels like you're moving underwater, and your limbs feel heavy, and even short walks feel hard. (I went from running 10km 3x a week to getting out of breath just walking up stairs, for example). Cognition is fine, but frequent naps are a requirement.

Platelets - Platelets are what allow your blood to clot and heal cuts, so a lack of these means you bleed and bleed for a long time. But also you bruise super easily, and bruises last a really long time (weeks/months). You can also have spontaneous burst blood vessels in the whites of your eyes. Parts of your body that wouldn't normally bleed also do - like waking up to blood on the pillow because your gums bled overnight. The most unexpected part for me was having a constant background rushing sound in my ears - kinda like holding a seashell up, but all the time (until a transfusion).

White blood cells / neutrophils - A lack of these doesn't make you feel that different, tbh, but a lack of WBC means you can't fight off viruses so you pick up every single cough and cold, and have it for twice as long as normal people. A lack of neutrophils means you can't fight off bacteria, so your body's normal bacterial cohabitors cause problems that can really mess you up. So you've got to be insanely conscientious about what you eat (no runny eggs, unpasteurised cheeses, raw vegetables!), and brush your teeth and mouthwash after you ingest anything. You'll really only need to worry about these symptoms though if you've got low blood levels for an extended period of time (several weeks+).

Overall though, I've described the extreme examples. If your character is young and healthy, they will probably only experience the red blood loss symptoms (and possibly minor platelet symptoms) for a few days, depending on how much blood was lost. If they're in a situation where a hospital would give transfusions, be aware that you'll only ever be given enough to get you out of the dangerously low territory, never so much that you'd be "back to normal" counts after the transfusion(s). But transfusions do make you feel better almost instantly (better, but not good).

But again, feel free to message me with any specific questions (I can also tell you how chemo, meningitis, spinal taps, surgery w/o anaesthetic feels if that's of use!), I'm happy to talk about all this and I want to give back to this fandom and IWTV fanfic writers in particular to say thanks for the hundreds of hours of enjoyment you all have given me!

* I'm absolutely fine now! Over my lifetime, though, I've survived off the blood of literally hundreds of people. A bone marrow transplant saved my life 14 years ago and I run marathons now and am probably healthier than most 40-somethings, except I'm still Clinically Extremely Vulnerable to Covid and can't go into crowded places or unmask indoors. But my bloods have been fine for over a decade and this is in no way traumatic for me to talk about!

Please consider joining your country's bone marrow donor registry and/or donating blood regularly if you're able to! Both saved my life.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #iwtv fanfiction #iwtv fic #iwtv fanfic #iwtv fandom #the vampire chronicles #anne rice #blood loss consultant #haematology #bone marrow transplantee #blood loss

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nicktremblaywayfu · 2 years

Text

Personal Paradise (Arthur Harrow x F! Reader ) 18+

Personal Paradise.

Warning : Dubcon, Kidnapping, Smut, Minor DNI !, unprotected sex, P in V, Arthur is literally major warning lmao, Yandere coded, possibility of Stockholm Syndrome, loss of virginity,

Words : 4642

Tags : Older man x Younger woman, age differences, height differences, he's unhinged lmao, emotional manipulation, vaginal fingering

Summary : The battle of Cairo has left everyone scars, both on their body and their mind. But one man stood, still willful about his goal to make this earth as paradise. This time however, he adjusted his plan target from everyone to himself. You, unfortunately, have been chosen by him to realise such desire.

Pairing : Arthur Harrow x F! Reader

Characters : Arthur Harrow, You (reader)

Rating : 18+ (Adults Only !)

Available on Ao3 as well

—

The warm snuggly blanket covered your body, as you felt the soft bed beneath you the time you slowly woke up. The bed felt comfy, but it didn’t feel like home. It didn’t feel like you’re in your own room. You tried to open your heavy eyelids, with dizziness lingering inside your head. This felt similar, like the time you woke up from an anesthetic from a surgery you had. The fragrant smell of sandalwood and a hint of musk starts to intoxicate each time you inhale for oxygen.

It took you at least an hour to be fully awake, now sitting on the bed slowly to see your surroundings. The room wasn’t luxurious, but it fit perfectly to fill 2 people. In a glance, the room you occupied didn’t seem suspicious. Yet this doesn’t mean you’re exactly safe. You remembered that you were sleeping in your very own bedroom. And now, you have awakened in a stranger’s room. You pinched your arm, thinking it was a dream. But the pain was real, and so was your situation. Your breaths started to get heavy and fast. None of your limbs were tied, but the fortune faded once you jumped from the bed and tried to open the door. Of course, it was locked. There’s no window in the room, the temperature was rather warm. Yet, you sweated like you were in the middle of a hot summer day. You checked your phone, which luckily the kidnapper didn’t snatch it from you. The clock showed it’s 3 am, time where most people have ventured in their dream. But you decided to ignore the time, as it was such an emergency situation. As you’re about to send your friends an SOS, you realized the signal bar was empty.

You exhale a deep breath, and close your eyes. Who could’ve done this to you? And for what reason ? As the battle of Cairo wasn’t enough to exhaust you mentally and physically. The event was 2 months ago yet the battle scars still haunted you. Last time you saw your opponent, Harrow, he was sent to an asylum by Marc after his defeat. You never heard about him until now, nor bother to send him a letter. After all, what for? You weren’t his friend, so there’s no such need. Khonshu has bid his bitter farewell to Marc as well, and as much of a problem he was, there’s no way he would take you away and put you in his secret place.

After a few minutes, the message on your phone stayed the same, so you decided to search the entire room for a weapon. But your eye was drawn to a glass inside a table drawer, so you took it up and placed it next to your bed. The race between your awareness and your eyelids getting heavier has started. At last, you laid on the bed while trying to keep your eyes open, although your eyelids won the race.

Your one hour sleep was disturbed with the sounds coming from the door, as the key is being unlocked. You took the glass from the table and tucked it inside the blanket, closing your eyes again and pretending to sleep. Perhaps if they saw you weren’t awake yet, they would leave you alone. After a few clicks, the door was finally opened. Your heart sinked at the time you heard a familiar glass-crunching step coming inside the room. This can't be real, you thought as you pinched your arms once again, believing you were dreaming and this was simply a false awakening. Once again, the door was locked with a series of clicking sounds. You keep your breaths in silent, not wanting to let your kidnapper know you have awakened. The silence went for a few minutes, until he reached your hair and stroked it. He didn’t say anything, like knowing you have awakened. Or maybe he was trying to wake you up. The stroke gave you mixed feelings between comfort and fear. You’re like a little deer with a leopard paw on your head. The stroke stopped with him patting your shoulder.

“I’d like to talk for a few things with you”

You keep silent, hoping he wouldn't notice your eyelids now open wide.

“I doubt that you’re still in your slumber but im just gonna assume you’re listening to me now”

Still a silent you gave to him. You let him start his monologue.

“The first time I saw you back in London, I know you’re not exactly there, because you wanted to. Am I right?” You felt a gaze on your back

“You’re just…following your friend’s journey. Having a fun adventure I suppose, but compared to the two- no. Three of your friends, I can tell that you don’t exactly have a significant role for them.” His statement offended you a bit, but deep down you can’t deny it. He had a point. The main reason Layla and Marc brought you was because to prevent Arthur from taking you as his hostage, like what he did to Steven. Ironically, it seems their plan now backfired.

“How cruel of them when they could just leave you alone in your house, peacefully. If they knew what happened now, they would reconsider their choice back then.” Listening to him blaming your friends for something which he was solely responsible for, turned your ears red.

“Was it really their fault when they intended to protect me?” You decided to fully awaken, now sitting with your back facing him.

“You’re the one who took me. If you actually use your brain a little bit, you know this shouldn’t happen.” With a harder grip, the glass on your grasp would crack.

“Put the glass back. There’s no need for such violence.” He just sighed, then looked at the table. His words were firm, as he gave you a warning rather than a suggestion. You gulped a bit, as the reality hit you. There’s no chance for you to win a fight with him, as he did beat you easily in Cairo two months ago.

Before you put the glass, however, your mind thought of a fast plan. You can’t win his fight, but if you broke the glass right on his face, you could buy some time to escape. Your naive side took control of your body and threw a punch with a glass in your palm. The feelings of regret took over your mind, as you didn’t expect he would catch the glass without needing to turn his back to you completely. You swore to gods the speed of his power as an avatar was still there, despite he no longer having his Goddess inside. One of his hands held your wrist tightly, while the others took the glass out from your palm. His grip felt like it could crack your bone with a little more effort. After he put the glass on the table, he reached you with another hand, and put it together inside his grip. His hand was big and strong enough to grip two of your delicate wrists. Eyes meeting each other, as his icy blue eyes made your breaths shaky. He adjusted his position to meet your face closer, now you could feel his breaths on your face.

“I told you, there’s no need for violence. And you didn’t listen.” His free hand put a strain of your loose hair to the back of your ear.

“Have you lost your mind? Of course I would defend myself !” You hissed to him, struggling to free from his grip. But the more your hands moved, the tighter his grasp. His veins on his hands rose from the strength of his power.

“From what? I didn’t put you in harm. In fact, it’s you who tried to put some glass shards on my face. “ He tilted his head, with a little sad expression. Of course you could tell he was trying to mock you.

“You kidnapped me. Any people with functioning brain could tell that you-”

“Took you away from your friends? What makes you think they won’t bring you to another danger once again?” He cut your words immediately. As you furrow your brows, he continued his dialogues.

“You’re safe here. They won’t find you, so they can’t bring you as a shield from the danger that lies ahead of them. “

“A shield? What the fuck you mean by ‘a shield’ ?”

“Remember when my Goddess was in your hand? They should be the one taking it away from me like some kind of superhero they always wanted to be. Yet they gave it to you. They knew that I'm a dangerous man who could kill anyone just by a touch of my hand. But they gave her to you, when they knew I wanted her. And I no longer let anyone stand in my way, no more. “ His gazed through your soul, as he read your movement.

“They put you in danger. They don’t want you to be the deadweight in their journey, yet they feel like they can’t leave you be. So they need to make use of you.” His face moved closer, despite knowing your breaths were getting more uncontrollable. You push your head closer to the wall, giving an additional inch from his face. Noticing your movement, he put his hand on your chin, keeping your face from leaning the wall until the back of your head pressed against the cold concrete.

“I’m here to make you safe, away from them. They’re not your true friends.”

“What do you know about them? I don’t exactly think kidnapping is a way to make me feel safe.”

“Oh there’s so many things they hide from you. You didn’t know about Layla’s father until I told all of you, did you? “

“That was a personal thing. It’s her privacy, I don't have any right to ask unless she told me to.”

“If she can’t trust you for such crucial information, what makes you think she and her husband could trust you with a more significant story?”

“It’s their choice whether they want to tell me or not.” You’re getting more pissed with the way he acted like he knew everyone. He just sighed again, looking at the side, then at you again.

“What if I tell you that there is another person in between all of you, hidden, but he would come out should he need to protect all of you with no hesitation.”

You gave him a confused look as he focused on your eyes. Was it true that Marc and Steven weren't all alone? Layla never mentioned it either. Can you actually trust his words ?

“How can I tell if you weren’t lying? “

“What makes you think Marc would do such violence ? I believe your memory from our meeting in Cairo was still there.” He brushed your hair, tucking any loose hair behind your ear once again.

Your memory wandered to the battle of Cairo, where Marc- perhaps not exactly Marc- suddenly yanked Harrow’s staff and fought everyone there. The fact that he broke the staff into three pieces and easily left Harrow bleeding, left you and Layla perplexed. Even to Marc himself, as he said he was blacked out. But that person didn’t hurt you, nor Layla. He was violent to Harrow and his men, but he was a divine protector for you and Layla.

“Sometimes, you need a little violence to protect your family, your loved ones, your friends. And contrary to what people believe, it doesn’t necessarily make you evil, no. Afterall, that’s what I did too. Those sinners deserve to be devoured for the sake of the good and pure souls. “ He let out a slight deep chuckle.

“I mean, you wouldn’t ask nicely a murderer to spare your live, would you? You either need to run or fight back. And he chose the latter option, to fight back. I must admit that was inspiring to me.”

“So you admit that you’re a murderer? “ You asked in a sarcastic tone, remembering what he did to Marc and Steven.

“Considering the choice I made to them, perhaps yes. But that doesn’t really matter now, as he took his revenge. His justice. “ He unbuttoned his shirt. Your mind already imagined unpleasant things, so you struggled your hands to get out from his grip. But the result stayed the same. You looked at the side and closed your eyes, preventing you from looking at his body.

“Two bullets I gave to them, and he gave me three. Perhaps it’s a snarky reminder of what I did to Khonshu’s favorite boys.” He moved your face to look at him again.

“Open your eyes and you will understand what I mean.”

You decided to open your eyes, and were surprised with the wound on his chest. Three bullet scars on his left chest, just freshly recovered. No one can survive with a shot, let alone three.

“How in hell- How are you supposed to live?” Your gaze focused on him again.

“Even after the failure, my Goddess Ammit has blessed me again. The bullets nested on my body yes, but it pierced through her soul. Now, she has returned to the Duat. To her original purpose as the soul devourer. Now it’s just me, with my soul.” For some reason he didn’t button his shirt again, which made you a little bit worried.

“But since now it’s just me myself again, there’s no way I could make this whole world into a long-lasting paradise, could I ? “

“Which makes all your effort pointless, Harrow. Just admit your defeat.” You shook your head with an unpleasant expression.

“I admit my defeat. I must admit it did break my mind for a while, but now I have a new, smaller purpose that I could reach. “ He smiled at you with his iconic smirk.

“It’s not a matter of how big or small it is, but whether I can reach it or not.” He brought his face closer to you, now your forehead almost touching.

“Instead of making this whole earth as a paradise, I should just make my own personal paradise. To be with someone who I could consider as my own little world. For me to live with, forever.” Now he rested his forehead on yours, closing his eyes. You know exactly where this is going. While how sweet it sounds, you keep reminding yourself that this is a dangerous man who shooted your friends and kidnapped you.

“That man's name was Jake Lockley. Or that was what I remember as what the old bird introduced me. After they left me on the side of an empty road, leaving me to rot there, i’m inspired as soon as I regained my life again. His protectiveness inspires me. If he can eliminate any danger for the sake of people he loves, so can i. But the difference is, I just want you to be safe.” He pecked your forehead, which caught you off guard.

“I won’t eliminate your friends, despite the fact that they harmed you, but I will keep you safe with me. Forever. “ He pecked your cheek this time, as he was testing for the water of your comfort.

“They didn’t harm me. They never will-” Before you could finish defending your friends, Harrow planted another kiss on your lips, as he tried to erase your doubt of him. His tongue lapped on yours, mixing the saliva inside your mouth. He kissed you like he was eating your mouth, and now he nipped on your lower lip. You struggled to breathe as his kiss felt like taking all the oxygen in your lungs.

As he pulls out the kiss, you take deep loud breaths, as if you were suffocated. Your face has turned red and your body temperature has increased. His tactic succeeded, as now your mind has scattered all over the place, like shards of glass. With the rising heat and a string of saliva coming out from the kiss, connected from your tongue to his. Noticing you were unfocused, Harrow took this chance to make his next move. He continued to bombardired your face and your neck with pecks, slowly moving to your breast area.

“Why- why are you doing this? “ You struggled to talk between your panting

“I didn’t hear a ‘no’ from you.” He gently kissed your lips again.

“Nor are you telling me to stop.” He proceeded to slip his hand beneath your shirt, massaging your tummy lightly.

With your shaky breath, your mind has come into a conflict. You were torn between telling him to stop yet you were enjoying the sensation he gave. He didn’t ask for permission, yet deep down you’re like it. Nobody has enjoyed your body like this, as this was purely your first experience. With his touch crawling beneath your shirt and his lips kissing your neck, it’s really, really hard to think clearly like this. Euphoria and logic were having a conflict for your brain control. Now that his hand is almost reaching your chest, he stopped his digits right under your breast, carefully massaging the part as he’s teasing you. Or maybe he’s giving you a chance to let your logic take control and push him hard off from the bed? The choice didn’t really matter as he’s eating your lips once again. It felt like he’s only giving you a chance to choose but by gesture only, as he kept shutting your mouth with his lips every time you’re about to talk. Another string of saliva connecting your tongue,with his gaze full of lust. It’s been decades since he’s having such human pleasure. The time he served Khonshu and Ammit, he never got the chance nor thought about doing this pleasure. Hell he even forgot when was the last time he had someone to love.

“Can you at least tell me the reason why?” At last you're able to speak without having any interruption.

“Why what ?” He answered shortly with a tilt of his head, giving a sweet smile and puppy eyes. You couldn’t no longer tell whether he’s genuine or messing with your mind again.

“The reason of- whatever you’re doing right now.”

“Well..” he took a deep inhale

“Like I said, I'd like to have you by my side. To make me feel like in a heaven on this hellish earth, full of sinners. I’d like to show you that I won't hurt you. I want to love you until I take my last breath.” He pulled out his hand from your shirt and caressed your cheek. You tried your best to not melt in his touch but the result seems to be failing.

“Out of all people you know, why me?” You asked once again, eyes locked to his oceanic gaze.

“Perhaps, fate ? I never had this feeling before, not even with my people. You are special. The time I saw you, I knew you needed to be saved from this wicked world. I just know it from the way you looked at me.” You’ve lost count how many times his lips met yours, as it felt like a code, a gesture for enough talking for now.

The crawl of his hand returned beneath your shirt, now unclasping your bra. There was a hint of panic but again, the euphoria overlapped it. Now pulling your shirt up to your chest level, just above your breast. Of course he couldn’t pull it off, he can’t trust you with a loose hand not yet. He kissed your breasts, then took your nipple inside his mouth. His tongue licking your hardened nipples, playing with it. His hand squeezed your other breast gently, making you whimper louder than before. The sensation of pleasure, tickle, guilt, and fear are mixed into one. You weren’t supposed to enjoy it. You were supposed to fight it, told him to stop and called the police. But again, was it worth it to stop in the middle of it and ruin it for yourself that you’re actually enjoying it, even though you tried to deny it? It was not like he actually hurt you after all. It could’ve been worse. He could have handcuffed you and abused you while letting out his desire. But your only restraint was his grip. There’s no blood on your body, nor any bruises. It could've been worse.

It could've been worse.

Your legs involuntarily moved and kicked lightly as his grip got tighter, both on your hand and breast. Your gasp was mixed with a short scream with euphoria as he moved his lips to your neck again. Now your neck was covered with hickies and bite marks completed with wet skin thanks to sweat and his saliva. Enough painting your neck sides with red and purple, he moved his hand to the lower part of your body, and you knew where he was going. But you were no longer able to deny it anymore. You finally submitted under his touch, under the sensation he kept giving. With his gaze focused on yours once again, he slipped his digits under the fabric of your pants. Now it’s beneath your panties. His middle finger pressed your clit lightly, the sensation was unbearable. You were touched but not with your hand this time. You let out a short, high-pitched scream and your legs involuntarily closed. You can tell your reaction amused him.

“Believe me sweetheart, you’d enjoy it better with your legs separated.” He gently moved your legs apart from each other. You just nodded in sweat with him now pulling your pants off alongside your panties.

He began to continue his work, now his finger slowly massaging your inner labia in a rhythm. From the entrance to the clit, he rubbed it very slowly. Your breath became uncontrollable, the sensation was new. It was new, so you let your body naturally reacting to it. Enough playing with your lower body lips, he stretched your vaginal entrance and inserted his middle finger inside. The move was very gentle. He had to, as he knew this experience was something new to you and he wanted your body to adjust with the movement. It’s easy to find your g-spot, and he rubbed it with his digit. You let out another short scream and your whimpers were now louder. You whimpered on each stroke he gave. If there is any person outside the room, they can hear your voice clearly. Amused with the sound, he inserted another finger. Your eyes widened, your body was bending from the wall and your legs folded all of a sudden. Your exhales became audible as well mixed with your whimper this time.

“I know it hurted a bit, but considering this is your first time I need your body to be prepared. “ His whisper to your ear sounded like the music you wanted to listen to this whole night.

He continued his stroke, with you closing your eyes. Melted with the movement, you threw your head to the back. He let out a faint groan as he’s enjoying your loud whimpers. He wanted more of it. The time he pushed his fingers to the deeper part of your canal, your whimpers became screams. His thrust became rougher this time, yet for some reason you didn’t feel like you wanna come yet. That’s one thing you can be glad for, so you can enjoy this moment longer without being overstimulated. Maybe he was so skilled that your body enjoyed the stroke without rushing to the peak. The thrust of his fingers brought your stomach arch-up, and your calves squished with your thigh. It has become unbearable. The fact you didn’t want to come up yet but the sensation has become too much was torturing you. Luckily, he got the hint. Harrow pulled out his two fingers. He started to strip his outfits, with his body now fully on bed. He finally let go of your hand, relieving your hands as your shoulders were sore from you being pinned for a long time. He knew well at this moment, you wouldn’t want to run. You demanded him to finish what he started. He nodded gladly. He adjusted the position of his tip to your entrance, with his body covering your frame.

“It’s going to hurt a little bit, but I will be gentle, you hear me?” He spoke softly while stroking your hair. You just let out a faint “yes”, your energy was almost completely drained out. He pecked your forehead, and he started to thrust into your body. Your entrance was completely wet and slick, but just as he said, it was indeed hurt. You wrapped his torso tightly, as it felt like your vaginal canal was too stretched. He let you adapt to the first thrust, now the pain has changed into pleasure once again. He began to continue his work, thrusting you gently with your canal wrapped his dick tightly. He growled in pleasure, as it has been a long time since he made love with someone. Felt like he wanted to be young again. To be that sweet loving young Arthur boy. But even with such old age, he looked fine and attractive. Aged like a fine wine you could say.

The thrust got faster as he became more eager with you, rubbing your vaginal walls with his hard, throbbing dick. Your throat was starting to dry thanks to the loud noises you made. He hugged you tightly with one hand on your back head and the other wrapping your waist. Your whimper and cry has become muffled as you buried your head on his collarbone, hands holding on his back at the point you left some scratch mark. The room that was once quiet, now decorated with the sound of a couple making love. Whimper, cry, and growl have melted into one. Your body was starting to send you a code that you’re about to release.

“A-Arthur, i-im gonna-..” With him pounding you fast and a little bit rough now, you found it hard to finish your sentence. But he understood. Of course he would understand every aspect of you. His thrust finally became sloppy, and at last he let a final thrust inside your canal. The tip was deep into you, and now he spilled his seed inside you. You came as well, drenched his dick with your fluid. You took a few deep breaths, you were completely exhausted. Arthur pulled out and gently laid you down onto the pillow, then rested next to you.

The more you looked at his face, the more you realized how handsome he was, especially now he’s covered in sweat and his hair was messy. He was in a mess and you love that. In the end, you took a liking to him and were glad that you didn’t decide to run away from him. You finally slumbered inside his cuddle, no longer worrying about your friends that sooner or later would be looking for your whereabouts.

—

#arthur harrow #arthur harrow x reader #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #mcu #marvel #smut

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grantairescurls · 8 months

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To be clear: yes, he canonically has 4 brothers and one sister. But it came to me in a dream once that he only has sisters and it stuck with me. I’ve build this entire AU fanfiction in my head where things are kind of the same but of course, as it is Athelstan centered, we look at things mostly from his point of view.

This incredibly long post is dedicated to my mutual @demon-of-the-ancient-world because I think they might enjoy it.

This is (or, well, was) Athelstan’s family.

Rowan, a former soldier who lost an arm in battle, was subsequently discharged from service and granted permission to return home. His days are now occupied with tending to the farm, caring for his beloved children, and attending to his enigmatic wife.

Letia stood out as the most reserved and well-behaved among the children. Her strong commitment to the family's farm is evident as she devotes herself to caring for the animals, with a particular fondness for tending to the cows and goats. She is pledged to a young man from a neighboring village, and their union is based on genuine affection, as neither she nor the young man stand to gain financial advantages from the arrangement.

During Lillian's pregnancy with Anais, she insisted that she could sense her baby's heartbeat synchronizing with music's rhythm. Only Rowan lent credence to her claim, but when Anais was born, her innate affinity for music and singing became evident. Unlike her siblings, she didn't engage much in the family's daily tasks, as her mother encouraged her to follow her musical calling. Eventually, she secured a position at one of the town's two taverns, also showcasing impressive skills in writing and persuasion. Anais's warm personality has earned her popularity among the townsfolk.

After Eva was born, around 10 minutes after Anais, Lillian's life hung in the balance due to severe blood loss. The contrast between the twins became stark as the years progressed and their personalities blossomed. Eva reveled in getting dirty, exploring herbology, felling trees, horseback riding, and embracing an active lifestyle. Recognizing her potential, her father secretly started training her in swordsmanship and archery.

A local legend recounts that Bridget's entrance into the world was marked by laughter rather than tears. All the unspoken thoughts that Letia held found voice through Bridget, who became Letia's personal interpreter of sorts. Similarly to Anais, Bridget showed no inclination towards farming; instead, she delighted in spending her days at the tavern, engaging in conversations with passing travelers seeking rest. Her chatter about her sister's musical talents led to Anais securing a job there. She was always curious, and never ever scared. Despite her father’s attempts to rein in her wild hair using pins and veils, much like her mother’s, it stubbornly resisted any form of constraint.

During Lillian's pregnancy with Athelstan, her usual quiet nature became even more pronounced. She secluded herself within their home, closing the sole small window and resisting food and drink unless she reached the point of hunger. Rowan pleaded with her on his knees, urging her to eat, to communicate, and to step outside to bask in the sunlight. Yet, her response remained a wordless gaze, heavy with exhaustion and sorrow. Aware that she carried a child destined for great suffering, Lillian seemed to attempt to spare him by almost willing his demise before birth. He arrived prematurely, at eight months. As Rowan witnessed the birth of a son, tears of joy streamed down his face, his heart brimming with happiness. Each passing year, Athelstan's resemblance to his mother grew uncanny. He became a mirror image with slender, pallid limbs, cascading black locks, icy blue eyes, and a gentle, subdued voice. Athelstan found solace in solitude, his days immersed in studying the flourishing vegetables in their fields, the creatures inhabiting their stables, the hidden bugs amidst the grass, and the stars often obscured by thick clouds at night. Despite his attempts to forge friendships, no other children were drawn to him for play. He relished moments spent with his mother, the only child permitted to visit her even on her difficult days. She wove tales of distant lands, courageous warriors, enchanting beings, mischievous spirits, and age-old deities, painting a vivid tapestry in his mind. Frequently, Athelstan would awaken in the dead of night tormented by nightmares, seeking refuge in his parents' bed. Enfolded in his father's arms, he'd recount his unsettling visions with intricate detail, while his small hands found solace in his mother's dark hair. In silent exchange, the parents, particularly Rowan, shared concerned looks, his gaze repeatedly turning to his wife in search of answers, only to find none.

Six years later, Petra entered their lives, a ray of sunshine that managed to thaw Lillian's heart. Her husband observed her stepping outside more frequently, resuming her singing, cooking with enthusiasm, and savoring meals with newfound passion. Petra's presence infused their days with a renewed sense of happiness. The young girl formed a special bond with Athelstan, who took it upon himself to shield her, unwaveringly committed to her protection. If the child had been allowed time to mature, she would have eventually become an exact carbon copy of her father.

Lillian had always been solitary since childhood. Although her parents cared deeply for her, they struggled to comprehend her nature, and no one else seemed to either—until a 19-year-old boy, back from war with one arm less and no family left, came into her life. They met at the market , where she was selling her father's chickens, while he was in search of two for his new farm. Lillian, with a stone-cold expression, claimed that one particular chicken among the lot was an exceptional storyteller, evoking a laugh from him and leading him to choose that chicken. When Rowan kissed her hand goodbye, a hint of blush painted Lillian’s pale cheeks for the first time in her life. That day, Lillian returned home wearing an unusually wide smile, in stark contrast to her typically gentle and kind expression. Announcing her impending marriage, she left her parents looking at each other, lost for words. Over time, her mental state began to decline, deepening her introversion and occasionally leading to bouts of paranoia. Gradually, she abandoned regular clothing in favor of loose and flowing nightgowns. Despite her struggles, Lillian's love for her children remained unwavering, and the fact that most days she lacked the strength to spend time with them outside with made her suffer terribly.

#my vikings art #athelstan #vikings #vikings headcanons #vikings fanart #athelstan fanart #george blagden

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maidofmetal · 1 year

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okay so the picture i post where you can’t see my prosthetic and i look like shit gets more notes than my cute fit that shows my prosthetic fuck u fuck u fuck u 🥰

#metal speaks #this is #literally why i don’t talk about being an amputee #during limb loss awareness month ?????

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fruit-salad-ship · 1 year

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Thanks discord, this wouldn’t leave me alone.

Have some fluff. I nicknamed this ‘a decent proposal’ as a joke but it kind of works.

For the hundredth time since the trio returned from their wonderful holiday, sunned and relaxed, Plum had demanded a fight. Peach being tolerant to her demands, and use to the usual crowd asking to brawl with her, just took it as another little claw at being an irritation. They fought, normally verbally but for months the ranger had taken loss after loss. Not once did the professor throw a punch or act offensively, it was all swift footwork and defence. She refused to raise a hand to her companion. No matter how much she baited her. A benefit to hisui perhaps, she had become far more patient and calm. The taunts from her opponent did not get under her skin, and there was no want in her to take this seriously, she joked about for every battle, and even went as far as to teach Plum some moves as they threw hands, to at least use the time wisely, and help her companion gain some skills. There wasn’t any way in hell that she’d be beaten by someone so small and unassuming, and so this felt fine to do.

And so, like clockwork, the two met after work hours, when all was calm and quiet on the island, grey turning up to sit at the sides and cheer them on, unable to take a side. Most of the time he just enjoyed the time they spent together. He had however, secretly been training plum, and quietly found great joy when she got a tiny step closer to winning. You see, the ranger had a plan. The egotistical woman she battled would get cocky, lazy, she fell into patterns only when she didn’t take you seriously, and so each time they fought, the ranger would take note, developing the perfect counter, the best way to down the giant without getting caught up in it herself. When peach worked, fought the Pokemon 10X her size, and won, she observed. It was weight transfers, pressure points, clever misdirects and the use of an opponents powers against them. She watched. She waited. She learnt.

The two went about their volatile dance, a mocking professor and plum, feigning frustration, leading her opponent to believe she didn’t have a cool collected head on her shoulders, and just as predicted, peach got lazy. Hit after hit she either took the impact, or redirected, footwork anticipated. She plants a foot and feels it get swiped out from under her while her weights off centre. For the first time against the ranger, Peach falls. Grey looks up from his phone, realising the plan had come to fruition, suddenly more invested. He too is aware of the plan Plum has, one she’s brewed for months, since peach had returned from Hisui and been open and honest with them. That moment sealed the trios fate, and set plum’s scheme in motion.

Before there was time to even register that her lazy approach had been foiled, the larger woman was caught in a painful lock, little hands managing to pull her in such a way that the pressure of her own movements hurt. A knee held one limb, plums entire form having to work overtime to stop her just pushing free. To Peach this was admirable, she’d underestimated her opponent, and at no one’s fault but her own, she had found herself in a predicament. Part of her couldn’t help but smile, this was an impressive feat. Through a laugh she relaxed her body, stopped fighting it, her opponent not cracking for a second.

“Congrats you little runt, you win.” The sharp grin as she looked back as far as she could to the ranger, face pressed into the floor stopping her from freely moving. She could hear the exhaustion of plum, the heavy breathing, the shake in her grip that refused to quit, the weight of her entire body pressed into the knee on the larger woman’s back. Peach however felt fine, hardly broke a sweat, could have worked hard to avoid this, but got lazy and after so long, and so many attempts to win, being put on her ass countless times, perhaps it was ok to let plum have this one. The grip loosened, weight on her reduced, and she was able to sit up on her elbows, looking back more, finally turning to face the victor. She looked exhausted, a sight that softened the professor as she got more comfortable, cross legged now, head leant on her hand as she quietly waited.

No words came out of Plum for a moment, still catching her breath, contemplating.

Grey across the room was shocked, she finally did it, finally won a fight, his hand fumbled something in his pocket as he returned his phone, waiting, breath hitched in his lungs.

“Well? Last time you won, by cheating might I add, you asked for something filthy. What’s the request this time?” Her mocking tone and clear calmness to losing was a change, she’d grown a lot, was more impressed with her companions grit, than angry that she’d lost. A notable difference.

“Uh-“ her eyes darted to Grey, his nod of ‘you’ve got this’ comforting, it grounded her, he always did. Peach tracked where she was looking, smiling to the big man, he was grinning, no doubt because of the win and loss that just occurred. “say yes.” Peach reset her gaze on the ranger, focusing on the simple ring in her hand, held out to her. She cocked her head and took it, turning it over in her hand.

“say yes to what? You haven’t given me…anything to…” for someone so smart, and so sharp, she really could be so incredibly stupid sometimes. She shot a gaze up from the item in her grasp, plums face a combination of determined ambition and worry, not a smile, not a frown, brow crunched, not saying a word where she sat on her knees, only just having caught her breath from the fight. Grey watched, seeing the other professor look to him, not sure what to do, as if to look for his confirmation? Support? Help? He too pulled a similar ring from his pocket, grinning with it in his hand. The dots connected, peach seeing this was planned, and suddenly all the months of fighting plum felt kind of dumb. She was just having some fun but this was so much more to them both the entire time.

Plum readied her argument, she’d prepared the fight, not only the physical one, but the emotional one that felt inevitable. Any second now she’d have to bring up all the moments they’d shared, how far their companionship had gone from enemies, to this, something irreplaceable.

She had discussed this with grey, and he had told her what happened when he brought up the prospect of engagement, or even just official commitment, but it was many years ago now, and peach was a different person, someone cold and deceptive. They both knew her now, her true name, her life, how she was raised, what she’d done. There was no more hiding, and it felt like since that moment, things had been the best they’d even been, something none of them wanted to give up or lose. So much so, plum wanted to take matters into her own hands. It was hard to read, but plum could see the other woman thinking hard, the way she scrunched her nose a little a clear tell. She use to think it an angry action but it was a pensive one.

“That’s a…huh…” Stumped, eyeing the simple band in her hand, knowing if she looked at plum, even for a second, she couldn’t think straight, would cave to her without giving it some genuine thought. They deserved an honest answer. After a moment, the ranger opened her mouth to try to find the right words that’d convince her, finally seeing the woman sitting ahead of her look up. “That’s a reasonable request.”

She blinked, hard, not certain of how she got away without having to argue this.

“what?” She wasn’t sure wether to laugh or cry, watching peach don the ring, one of several on her hands. Grey was already on his feet, speedily heading towards them, shocked at the amount his beloved partner had grown, and how they could do something proper about it finally. His big tight grasp bundled them up, and only then did it truly sink in for the smallest of the trio. It was only when they were free to pull back from the tight embrace that both the bigger members noticed plums tears, laughing at her attempts to wipe them away without success.

“you’re such a baby.” A loving, teasing sentiment as peach planted a big kiss on the rangers nose, holding her face to squish it gently.

Grey carried the little victor home on his back, a quite success to the days events, hand in hand with peach, able to feel the new addition to the collection on her hand.

#a decent proposal #is an ok name #I have a terrible headache #fruit salad #brainrot #fluff #I can’t figure out how to make hidden text on mobile #I’m so sorry

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inthememetime · 2 years

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It is disability awareness month, and because of this and the fact I, too, am disabled, I've decided to go with a trope that's tricky to write without being offensive.

That's right.

Body Horror

Here are the questions we'll cover today: What is body horror? What makes this trope go from an excellent horror device to an offensive abelist stereotype if not done correctly? How do we avoid being offensive? When is it most effective to use body horror?

It's all tricky; and sometimes, as with any time you're writing about a character's body, there's no way to avoid being offensive. But that doesn't mean we can't do our best!

Body Horror is basically a trope where someone goes through negative physical changes. See where this can get really offensive to disabled people really quick?

Things to avoid in body horror:

If your body horror is somebody in a wheelchair, you're not writjng body horror. You're being abelist.

If your body horror is scarring, again, you're being abelist.

Skin color changes to natural colors. Yes, I have seen body horror played like this before. Unless the skin color is changing to something unnatural, or growing massive scales, or similar, you're not writing body horror. You're being racist.

If your body horror involves somebody wearing/using oxygen, or- look. In general, if your body horror is what a disabled person goes through every day? You're either mislabeling your work, or you're abelist.

Things you should use in body horror:

Open wounds! Pus! Blood! Acid! Boils! Go for it! But please do not compare it to what a disabled person goes through. It should be in a context of"wow this is so terrible, this person is constantly oozing bright green blood and spores and stuff, or just looks like a walking corpse", NOT "wow this is so terrible, this person has bad acne, or wounds that need to be debrided regularly."

Eyes! No eyes, more than a normal number amount of eyes, weird pupils, glow, black pits where eyes once were, tears of blood- go for it! Have fun with the messed up eyes! (If your body horror consists only of cataracts, again, you're being abelist and ageist, not scary.)

Horns, scales, hooves, claws, messed up teeth- yay! Again, have fun! Go for it!

Hair- eh. It's tricky, hair loss. You can definitely use it, just be mindful that you don't portray ALL your evil characters/monsters as going through hair loss. Extra hair, though, can be fun!

A not normal number of limbs- does your OC develop 6 arms? Do they turn blue? Do you maybe need to look up deities in Indian mythology before writing something offensive? That aside: extra arms, legs, heads, wings, organs- usually pretty cool! If your body horror is someone is an amputee (no matter how many limbs they've lost), it's abelism.

With all the examples above, it's less what you write, and more how you write it. Let's use the monsters from I Am Legend. As part of a horrific virus, their skin bleaches out (turning to another natural color), experience full body hair loss, and temperature changes.

If it had focused on just one monster, that could've become a horrible racist and ableist thing very quickly. However, it's not. The body horror is a secondary thing to the very real and present horrors of isolation, constant vigilance, and violence.

In The Thing (something that helped really get the genre rolling), it's VERY effective body horror. It combines the terror of what this thing is becoming with isolation, distrust, fear.

In Teeth, the main character has what could be called a disability. However, she learns to use it, gets revenge, and likes having it at the end. In that, it's not ableist, any more than somebody learning how to use their crutches and finally being able to get around is. (Hint: not at all)

Now, body horror can also be played for laughs, like in Danny Phantom. Danny turns his lower chest into a giant ring of oozing ectoplasm to avoid a projectile. He gets cut in half and has a delayed reaction. In the phandom, there's tons of body horror chalked up to Danny being Danny, or 'Body Horror, but guys this is DP'.

The difference between these four is the atmosphere. And this is when it is most/least effective to use body horror:

Combined with fears of others/distrust

Combined with isolation/ can't get help

Unexpected- nobody knew this would happen, least of all the victims

A way for the change(s) to be useful, or even beneficial.

The victim liking the changes/thinking they're cool/using them to escape danger.

Changes in power dynamics. For example, if you have a victim of something, held against their will, then physical changes that enable them to get away and turn the tables on their captors might not be body horror to them. Better believe it's horrifying to the captor!

I hope this helps, if you needed it! And remember: the leas human/more horrifying the changes are, the less likely it is to be abelist.

#inthememetime #horror writing tips #body horror

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 1 year

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The Return

Nuisance

Warnings: Heavy blood loss

Four months later, this is finally the continuation of The Heist, which I wrote for the “Barbed Wire” prompt of my first BTHB. I had always hoped to write the rest of the story, and am very happy it has finally happened. As such, it’s only fitting that this one will fill another prompt :D

This one is a fill for my shiny new BTHB.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Merridy leaned against the branches of the bush, trying to calm down enough so she could get up. There was nothing she could do about her injuries, so she let the remains of her sweater settle back on her stomach. Blood ran down her side, leaving a cold trail on her skin until it seeped into the fabric. She tried her best to ignore it.

Eventually, she couldn’t wait any longer. She wasn’t quite sure how late it was—the bells didn’t toll the hours of the night, to not disturb sleeping citizens—but she had entered the house far after midnight. She had to make it back to Cedric’s house before dawn, lest someone would see her and notice her desolate condition.

Her limbs were barely able to support her, shaking from exhaustion and pain alike. Once she had pulled herself to her feet, she clung to the sturdiest branches of the bush for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Standing up straight had never been this hard. Everything in her screamed to curl up, to keep as much strain as possible off her torn skin and mistreated muscles. She shifted the bag, to make sure the globe wouldn’t come to rest against any of her injuries

The first step was the hardest. The next one came easier already. The momentum kept her going, putting one foot in front of the other, focused on nothing but the next step. The way hadn’t seemed that far when she had taken daily walks around the area, scouting out the house; neither had it when she had set out for her heist after sunset. Now, walking back on unsteady legs, each step a struggle against weakness and rising nausea, it seemed impossibly far.

The damp fabric of her sweater slowly sapped the warmth from her body, and the fading adrenaline left her aware just how much everything hurt. She grit her teeth and forced herself to walk on, even as exhaustion started to take over every clear thought, leaving her knees weak and her hands shaking. One of them she clamped around the bag, while she used the other to steady herself against the walls of the houses she passed. Somewhere in the distance a shutter slammed closed, and much closer to her, someone shouted.

Merridy froze, suddenly aware for the first time that she might not be alone. What if someone would see her, had seen her? What if she led someone directly to Cedric, with the proof of the crime she had committed right there in her bag? Heart beating up to her throat, she looked around.

The night, normally a welcome ally, was suffocating. Anything could loom in the deep shadows, anyone could be watching her. With every step she took, the feeling of being followed grew stronger. It was only an echo of her unfounded fear, she tried to tell herself, there was no one around. It didn’t work. Every fiber of her being wanted to run, to find a place to hide, and with every passing second, it became harder to fight the urge. She couldn’t run, not in her condition, but she could hide.

But first, she had to make sure that if someone was following her, they wouldn’t see where she went. A few steps further, she slipped into the side alley opening up next to her. It was still a more affluent neighborhood, each house sporting a narrow front yard, framed with fences and decorative walls. One of those walls was low enough for her to climb over, the windows in the house behind shuttered and dark.

Merridy ducked low, crossing the distance between the street and the few marble steps leading up to a raised main door. In the shadow beneath the stairs, she made herself as small as possible. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears, making it hard to listen for any sign of pursuers. All she could see from her spot was a part of the front yard and a small strip of the street behind the wall.

Minutes passed. Endless, dark, excruciating minutes. There was no sound other than the distant call of a bird, and no movement save for a lone scrap of fabric dancing in a sudden breeze, a flicker of pale white in the night.

Still, she kept waiting, arms wrapped around herself. Her sweater was cold and wet, sticking to her skin. She knew it had to be blood, and the thought scared her. She didn’t dare to find out if she was still bleeding, but she feared she was. Merridy leaned her head against the back side of the stairs in front of her, utterly exhausted. The touch of the marble was cool against her skin. If she rested a moment, perhaps she could gather some strength for the path ahead.

A dull, throbbing pain in her head brought her back to awareness. She flinched, luckily not enough to hit the stairs in front of her a second time; slipping off and slamming against the stone must be what had woken her up in the first place. She raised her hand to rub her forehead, wincing as the movement caused the rest of the pain to flare up once more. There didn’t seem to be a spot on her body that wasn’t bruised or torn.

She didn’t want to move, but she had to. How long had she been dozing off for? How late was it? After making sure she was alone, she clamped her fingers around the edge of the stairs, dragging herself up. The warm trickle down her stomach made her whimper quietly. Had she been bleeding all this time, or had the movement reopened her wounds? It didn’t matter. Neither was good, if she was honest.

Looking up, she found that the sky was still dark, no hint of approaching dawn above the roofs of Caldeia. But for how much longer? She had to get back to the one place in this godforsaken city she knew she would be safe.

The rest had given her no new strength. On the contrary, she barely managed to climb back over the wall, all but collapsing onto the street on the other side. She was freezing to the core, leaving her already aching muscles stiff and tense. Each step was agony, each breath a fight against the quiet whimpers trying to escape her lips. The world was a blur of shadows and cobblestones, calling her forward, and forward, and forward.

She raised her head, and she didn’t know where she was. Too tired to think, and knowing that she’d never get up again if she stopped now, she kept walking. Cobblestones turned into coarse sand littered with long dead leaves. The shadows retreated, only to return looming over her, rustling in the breeze.

Step after stumbling step, Merridy moved on. Roots protruded from the ground, more than once almost succeeding in making her fall. One time, she caught herself at the last moment, but slammed her arm against a tree trunk in the process. It started to bleed again, if it had ever truly stopped.

Afraid to leave a trail of blood behind, she pressed her arm against her stomach, the strap of the bag wrapped around her wrist to keep the globe from bouncing against her hip with every step. Her pulse fluttered in her wounds and pounded in her head, while her heart hammered in her chest. The rhythm was unsettling, just like her breaths were too shallow, too quick.

Merridy blindly stumbled along what could have been a path, bracing herself against any tree she passed, scraping her skin on their rough bark. Until there were no more trees. A few steps further, the cobblestones returned. A part of her was aware that she must have crossed the park near Cedric’s house. If that was true, it wasn’t that far anymore. She was almost there. Almost.

Merridy blinked against the darkness trying to claim her vision. Somehow, the world felt dull. Flat. Out of focus. Clinging to a wall with trembling hands, it took her way too long to find the familiar house at the corner, showing her the way. She stumbled on, barely lifting her feet. Each step felt like it would be the last, like she could go no further, and yet each one was followed by another. It wasn’t that far anymore, she told herself, over and over again. It wasn’t that far anymore.

Finally, she reached the right street. Had it been day, she would have been able to see Cedric’s house already. As it was, she kept her gaze rigidly on the ground, to not stumble and fall on those last few dozen steps. When she eventually raised her head, to check how far she had come, she could see light behind the thick curtains of his living room windows. It didn’t matter that there shouldn’t have been light at this hour, the promise of warmth and safety was like a siren’s call to her.

Climbing up onto the porch cost her all of her remaining strength, bruising her shins when she missed the stairs three times in a row. Merridy leaned against the wall next to the door, willing her stiff fingers to let go of the bag so she could raise her hand to knock. There was no way she’d get the door open by herself; she hadn’t taken her key with her, too afraid to carry anything on her that would link her back to Cedric in case she was caught, and her hands were shaking too much to even consider picking the lock instead.

While she waited, her gaze fell on the wind chimes next to the door. She focused on them, desperate to distract herself from how nauseous she felt, and from the overwhelming urge to crumble to the ground and never get up again. The chimes consisted of a bunch of irregular shaped glass shards, suspended on threads so thin, she couldn’t see them in the darkness. At night, the colors were muted, barely discernible, but Merridy knew each shard by shape, remembered the way they sparkled in the sunlight. She recalled them all, one by one: The red one with the jagged edges. The purple one, shaped like a drop. The golden one, long and thin. The green one. The blue one. The orange one.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the realization trickled in that she was home.

She had made it.

Not quite as planned, not unscathed, but she had made it. She had gotten the globe, heavy in the bag at her side. Cedric wouldn’t be thrilled about the state she was in, but he would surely take care of her, if only to stop her from bleeding all over his house. Merridy allowed herself to close her eyes and slump against the wall, fingers grappling weakly at anything to keep her from collapsing. She had to hold out just a moment longer, then she’d be able to rest. Just. A moment.

The sound of the door opening reached her subdued, as if her ears were under water. She raised her head, and her world started spinning, a wave of heat rushing against the bitter cold holding her captive. Words. Words that didn’t make sense. Angry. Shocked. Worried. It was fine, she wanted to say, but the reassurance didn’t find its way from her thoughts to her lips.

She should get inside. Away from the street. The moment she loosened her grip on the door frame, her knees gave way under her. She braced herself for the impact, but she didn’t fall. Cedric caught her. A grip, painful around her bleeding arm. Fabric, soft under her flushed cheeks. An arm, wrapped around her, holding her. She let go of everything that had kept her upright, sinking against him.

Everything would be all right.

[ID: The banner shows a broken window, outside which the sun sets behind an iron fence. The sky is bright yellow and orange. The title nuisance is written across it in scribbled looking letters with a orange to yellow to orange gradient. All other images are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup @freefallingup13 @kixngiggles @badthingshappenbingo

#Nuisance #whump #fantasy whump #lady whump #blood tw #badthingshappenbingo #prompt: adrenaline crash #fandom: original work #my writing

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