#warning: there’s a contamination leak

[xxadvictoriamxx]

Nick: any machine you can’t charm?

Sole: just one

Sole: damn lockdown terminal in HalluciGen

#warning: there’s a contamination leak #you can hear it already cant you #you’d be lying if the answer is no #nick valentine #sole survivor #incorrect quotes #fo4

[winterarmyy]

Deleted Scene

An alternate ending of Thin Walls, Thin Lines.

Note: Basically the smut content no one asked for our fuckboy!bucky in 《 Thin Walls, Thin Lines 》. So read it first for context! (if you haven't already)

Navigation: Original Version || Deleted Scene* (alt. ending)

Pairing: fuckboy!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.7k++

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, no minors allowed, nsfw, fluff, lil bit of angst, cunnilingus, finger fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, squirting, cum eating, needy bucky, an absolute filth and i'm sorry for bucky's behaviour in this one, he is just a horny mf on a daily basis also I just want to warn you about the sinful things he might say in this.

P/S: I don't know what to say. I love the fluff ending from the original version, but this... this ending. Even if i feel like it's a messy writing. but pheww. You can just tell why I refused to choose and ended up doing both.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A playful smirk pulled on Bucky's lips when he spoke "Doll, you shouldn't be saying that so carelessly. Who knows I might use it for despicable things." Surely, he love to be the cause to bloom those red shades on her cheeks.

But it didn't happened when she asked quietly, "Will you?"

And the silence that came after was heavy with tenderness while their eyes spoke the truth to one another. As the thin lines in between got blurry, for once, there was just streams of genuine feelings pouring out of them, leaking through and contaminating the air with its magic.

Would he? Take advantage of her?

Of course not. But will he lie just to tease her? Yes. He would. "Maybe. Only if you let me." He shrugged.

And that made her blooming feature fell into a gloom. As if she was having a chaotic crisis within the pretty little troubled head of hers. Y/N didn't want whatever he was suggesting. She wanted more than a brief fling; more than a casual situationship.   

Because she loved him; truly. It wasn't just a passing passion, or an accidental chemistry.

Seeing the frown on her face and the panic spiralling in her eyes, Bucky chuckled as he knew she was taking his joke way too seriously, "Okay, how about I let you on with a little secret?" He suggested.

It perked her interest that Y/N simply nodded to his offer. Bucky smiled as he leaned down, lips grazing the shell of her ears whispering a shocking confession.

She wasn't even high from any medication that Dr. Cho had prescribe to her but she couldn't believe what she heard. Her widen eyes questioned his smug smile hovering over her. Until she sneakily pulled the pillow next to her and threw it to his face.

Y/N kicked the blankets and changed into a sitting position, "Urghh you're such a dick, Bucky! I can't believe that I let you make fun of me!" She said with a biting tone.

"But, I'm not though?" Which only triggered her to smack him more with the pillow she was holding. Soon, the silent room were filled with the sound of her angry groans and Bucky's hearty laughter that cascade into a muffled chuckles.

The moment Y/N let her guard down, Bucky quickly stole the soft weapon from her and reclarified his confession, "I'm serious. I've been in love with you for awhile now." It's not she was blind; she saw no lies in his eyes and there was nothing but truth in the gentle of his voice.

She squinted her eyes into a glare and folded her arms across her chest, "Well, you have a rather funny way of showing it."

Bucky only smile to her snarky remarks, his hand finding hers to pull her closer, "I think I made it clear with the endless flirting that you have been blatantly rejecting, doll." He placed her perfectly on his lap, rubbing his big hands on her small back.

Y/N scoffed, "The only thing that was clear from that was how badly you wanted to get in my pants." Despite her objection, she let him pamper her body with his touch.

Bucky grinned, "And I do. But, only because I love you."

When she caught his gaze, she knew there was something magical about it; she have read so many books and poetry describing the look of his steel blues. A look that she can only dream of and not experience it; and if she was to make it come true, then this would be it.

Bucky moved slightly forward to nudge the tip of his nose on her own, hands intertwining with her shaky ones, silently asking for a permission to kiss her.

If she wasn't too focus on his presence on her skin, she would've noticed how the blood rushing to her cheeks were making her blushed in red. It felt good, it felt right.

Y/N gave her answer by leaning her forehead on his and he didn't waste any time to capture her lips, pressing an innocent kiss against it as his flesh hand gripped on hers while his metal hand find her cheek.

Soon enough the surrounding air heated and Bucky managed to slipped his tongue into her parted lips, his tongue wrapped around hers as her free hand reached back to gather his hair in her grasp. As they were blinded in sight by their closed eyes, they let sensory of their body ravel in each other's touch.

Out of instinct, her hand pulled from his back, then resting it on the prickly surface of his jaw before slightly pushing him away. Bucky took the cue and broke the kiss, "Babydoll." His hot breath blew against her cheek as he lean his lips on it.

Y/N realized what she had done; she let him kiss her, touch her but what does this mean? "I..I.." She hesitated.

"You're okay, y/n. Tell me to stop. Tell me to fuck off. It's okay, you can tell me anything." Bucky coaxed softly as he held her closer.

"I want this. I want you, Bucky. But... how can I trust you?" She really do. But, some part of her still reluctant to his history, "You've been sleeping around with those girls for months. Almost every night." Bucky cringed to his own behaviour. "How do I know it? That I'm not becoming one of them? That I'm not just some fucktoy you're gonna use and toss after?" She didn't care if she sound desperate. She needed him to be true because she know this won't work if he isn't willing to.

Bucky breath caught in the middle, as he knew that even the sweetest words won't satisfy her worry, so he only told the truth, "You have been the only one I wanted, y/n. And I know words aren't enough convice you. So let me show you, baby. Let me make love to you until you see how much I truly love you."

And he indeed fulfill his promise on that.

Bucky took his time undressing her until she was bare as the day she was born. He took longer time kissing her skin, loving each part of her perfect body and a much more lingering kisses around the bruises from today's mission.

Now that her pretty little cunt was right in front of him, exposed and bare, he wondered if this was all just a dream. Because it felt like it. No matter though; he'd devour her just the same whether she was just a creation of his dreams or his actual reality.

Bucky pressed several kisses on her clit, leaving the wet kissing noises filling the quiet room. He brought his tongue out slowly and started to lick her up; just to have a taste, "So pretty." he purred in between licking her fluids, teasing her. "So perfect." His fingers went to spread her lips apart and she made a strangled noise when she felt his long wet tongue, flattening through her folds, "Fuck." she cursed.

And after the first taste of her, Bucky realized how greedy he was getting especially when delved right back into her. "Bucky..." she whimpered his name as his warm lips wrapped around her clit, lewdly sucking on as if it was a tasty strawberry flavored sweet, just to release her moments after. He chuckled and slurred against her wetness, "Love the way you moan by name, sweetheart. Need to hear more."

His hands had moved from her waist to her hips in effort to pull her closer. If Y/N had anything to speak up in response then it was too late to say out loud because her head was swiftly wiped clean the moment his lips press into her clit again.

Bucky's grip on her thighs were almost harsh, just to keep her legs spread wide open for him to suckle on her clit, flicking his tongue over it deliciously. Looking down, she can only see the dark mess hair bobbing between her legs as he eats out her needy little cunt.

Y/N's mind was cloudy with ecstacy and pleasure crawling through her with each flick of his warm tongue between her folds. When it felt too good, she couldn't help but to catch his soft hair, holding on for her dear life as he devoured her cunt; noisy and messy.

"So fucking good, doll." He grunted into her weeping pussy, low and sensual as he pushed her legs further, allowing himself more access to her sweetness. "You taste so good."

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky was also enjoying every moment of this. Each time he moaned and groaned into her pussy, was the also time he thrusted his own needy cock against the mattress. The tip of was leaking with so much precum that it had left a wet stain behind.

With him getting that desperate, it felt like he was about to bust his nuts at any given time. But he wanted to wait; at least until Y/N gets her first high of the night. When his slick tongue deliciously fucking her pussy, exploring inside her, litters of curses of his name escaped from her lips as she moaned.

His wet tongue explored her insides as they clenched with lust and she choked out of air, not sure of how much longer she could take it because there was no way to deny it, she was about to cum, "Fuck,, Bucky. I'm cumming,,"

Bucky hummed into her when he pulled his tongue out, switching to rubbing on her clit, up and down, all the while was chasing his own orgasm, frantically humping on the bed like a rabid dog in heat.

Y/N gasped when he alternate between to sucking her clit and licking her up. Her back arched, pushing her cunt further into his hungry mouth in hopes to reach her release, "Please, please, don't stop.. need it, Bucky. Oh fuckkk"

Both of his hands; flesh and metal, slide up to grab her hips, helping her to grind on his tongue until her wetness came leaking out into his mouth, right on his tongue. Bucky came right along with her, grunting needily as the pink tip of his cock spurted out ribbons of his cream on in her mattress, marking his territory.

Bucky continued running his tongue up and down her wet slit throughout her orgasm, lapping away at her release that leaked out then gulping it down his throat as he watched her sighs with content.

When he pressed a soft kiss against her puffy, oversenstive clit, she thought it was end of it. But she couldn't be more wrong. The moment Y/N felt his metal finger trailed along her inner thighs, she knew that he wasn't satisfied with just eating her out.

She yelped when Bucky swiftly pulled her down, until her ass slides through the mess he made earlier, "What...?" Y/N herself didn't know what to ask but he knew exactly how to answer, "That's my cum, babydoll." He swiped some of the fluid from the sheets and smeared it on her throbbing cunt, making her instinctively moan.

Bucky smirked, "Eating your pretty pussy made me cum so hard, doll." With hunger in his gaze, he watched how his mess of a cum made her cunt glisten even more, "And because of that you deserve a reward, don't you think?" She whined as she nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, you do. You deserve to get your tight hole fucked by my metal fingers, don't you?" He continued to draw tight circles on her clit while his middle finger glides through her slit until he found her entrance, and pushed it in.

Y/N's head jerked up to the sudden intrusion. It was cold and reached much deeper than any of her fingers before. When Bucky twisted and curled the metal within her walls she cried out of pleasure. It was such new sensation and so fucking good.

A sudden entrance of another finger making her squeal from how sensitive her insides were to his metal fingers. And it made Bucky so full with pride to see her bending her back, her hips quivering, her walls tighten; all for him, "You can take it, sweetheart."

There was no such thing a pause when Bucky finger-fucked her hard; with his flesh hand pawing at her breast. He had his eyes locked on to the way her eyes roll back, panting breaths through those soft lips of hers, while his fingers drilled her tight pussy over and over and over, "That's it, that's fucking it baby. Such a good girl for me." He praised.

Endless moan were filling the room, along with the squelching sound of her wet cunt getting pounded mercilessly. Y/N lifted her hips higher; the feelings of Bucky's fingers inside her was different than her own. The stimulation and pleasure coming from his ways were distinct; like how the tip of his finger hits her unexplored g-spots or how his thumb pressed and twisted on her clit.

Bucky managed to pull the most sinful and desperate noises from her, "I-I’m going to cum,," she whimpered, hands balling into fists on the bed sheets as her hips followed his thrusts. "Yeah? Already, doll?" He taunted as he rolled her clit between his thumb and index finger.

Y/N nodded eagerly in between her moaning mess, before she let out high-pitched, satisfied whimper of his name as endless of fluid squirted out of her overstimulated pussy. "Oh fuck babydoll." He groaned as watched awe at her gushing cunt. "Did you just squirt? Hmm fuckkkkk, you should've done that when I have my mouth on you, baby. Shit."

Bucky scoot back to leaned his face right in between her legs. He darted his tongue out before he licked and suck the remaining fluid leaking out of her, making her squirm and whimper. And the slurping sound coming from him was such a sinful thing to hear, "Taste so good too. Gotta do that again next time, sweetheart. I wanna drink it all." he proposed.

"But now I need to be inside you." Bucky's declaration were cut short as his mouth captured hers in a heated kiss.

Y/N moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue as she kissed him back passionately, her body burning from all the pent-up frustration she had been pushing back for months. Bucky broke the kiss after a few mind-numbing minutes, before his hungry lips roamed around her neck, hands trailing over every part of her exposed skin as her heart rate spikes

"Need you, babydoll." Bucky groaned as he pumped his hard cock with his hand, spreading his dribbling pre-cum around his thick length. She whined as he gripped her legs, spreading them as wide as they'll go before rubbing the head of his cock against her slit.

He leaned again to kiss her one more time before sliding inside, slowly. "Oh god," Y/N moaned as she burned deliciously around him while he spreads her open.

Bucky's hands moved up find the crook in between her waist and hips, settling his veiny hands to the shape of her curves. His hips pounded into her, getting faster and harder with each thrust. As Y/N began to wrap her legs around his waist, he grabbed them and pulling he flused against his hips before he continued drilled his cock into her pussy.

The sensation was a combination of pain and pleasure and she feel as though she's in heaven. "Faster," she cried out.

"Look at you. You're so wet for me, doll. Feels so good around me--" Bucky's voice breaks into a groan as his hips meet hers, "--It's like your pussy was made for me. Gotta let me have you everyday now that you're mine, right sweetheart?"

"Mmmmhnn" she moaned; things took a turn when she clutched around him harder, it was abnormally tight as if it was trying to milk him right there and then. Bucky couldn't help but to groan in pleasure to the new sensation, "F-fuck" he cursed.

It took his less than a minute to figure out the reason why. Bucky smirked sinfully, "You like it when I talk dirty to you?" he slurred. Y/N's eyes were getting teary from all the pleasure she was feeling, from the stuffing feelings in her chest to the sensation of his hard cock thrusting in and out of her cunt.

"i- ahh I-i don't hhmmnn shit i don't know." she tried to deny him.

Bucky stopped his pace, pulled back slowly, "Really?" and slammed it back in hard, "Are you sure, princess?" He almost knocked her out of her breath.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that my pretty girl loves it when I claim her as mine while I'm fucking her tight little pussy. Does she?" Bucky's kept on slow and hard torturous thrust, it was certainly slow but oh it felt so good; especially when he was doting at Y/N like this.

Was she really a sinner? Because this felt way too good to be in hell.

"Can't speak? Come on, my sweetheart. Speak up, let me hear ya." He demanded. Bucking her hips, wanting for more, "Y-yes, Bucky. I love i-it"

Bucky groan as her walls clenched him so good. Fuck, how many times has he thought of this? Dreamt of this? Probably, countless.

"You know why I keep changing girls, doll?" He sneaks his hands between their bodies and started to rub her clit. Her body shivered to the sensation, shaking her head to the sides as answer. "Yeah,, I bet you have no idea why do you?" He taunted.

Bucky let out a satisfied moan before his thrusts started going back to it's original pace. All whilst his cock pumped into her, gradually growing more fervent, her soaking pussy welcoming him in easily. Her whines mixed with Bucky's as she grabbed on the sheets behind her.

"Because I've been moaning your name in their ears, y/n. Everytime I stroke on my cock in anything, I have you in my mind. And when I cum, I imagine your pussy milking me dry. Just like you're doing now. Fuckkk,, doll, just like that."

Bucky's eyes that was fixated on her fucked out face since awhile ago, traveled down to where they were connected. Looking at how her little pussy shallowed his dick so well make him hornier.

Y/N slightly bounced upwards, his blues eyes tended back to her breasts. He used extra strength to see how her small body shook uncontrollably every time his hips met with hers, and to see those beautiful tits bouncing around.

"Bet you have no clue how much I want fuck my baby in you, doll. Or imagining the way your wedding ring glides on the side of my cock when you stroke me in your hand."

Bucky angled her body again by throwing her legs over his shoulders and leaned forward. This new angle made her eyes roll back. "Oh fuckk-- ahhh bucky,," she managed to say between his thrusts. Her entire body shaking from the tension building in her body as Bucky fucks her hard and fast, "I love you, y/n. I love you so. damn. much. I want to live the rest of my life in this cunt." He punctuated his words with hitting her sweet spot each time.

Bucky briefly threw his head back to hold back his orgasm before his hazy gaze landed on her, "Fuck doll, you look so pretty with my cock in you baby, so pretty. And we're so wet now. Hear that? Yeah, that's the sound of your tight little cunt getting wrecked by my cock. You fit me so perfectly. We're perfect." His thoughts were spilling out just as much as his precum leaking inside her.

There were tears in her eyes now, not only her walls but her whole body were stretching under him. It burned and it felt so damn good.

"Need you to cum, baby" Bucky spoke lowly, "I can feel ya, come on doll. Cum for me." He growled while continuing to pound her pussy.

And that would be the final straw for her. "fuck, yes, yes!" her voice hitched as her thighs begin to tremble around him. "...cumming. fuck, bucky i'm cumming." loud and sensual moans falling from her lips without much of an effort. Screaming out his name in pure bliss as her orgasm snapped through her high.

"That's it baby. Squeeze me so good." Bucky coaxed ever-so-tenderly, as her cum leaked around his cock and her pussy continued to milk him; begging and needing to feel his cum inside her.

"Hmm. I'm cumming, doll. Fuck,, oh fucking hell,, you're so good. Making me wanna cum, sweetheart. Where do you want it? Tell me. Where do you want my cum?" Bucky nearly whimpered as he felt his heavy balls were about to combust.

"Inside. Cum inside me," she moaned breathlessly.

Bucky almost growled to her response, "Good. fucking. girl. That's the only choice, baby. I'm gonna cum in you eitherway. Fuck fuck fuck,, I'm cumming shit take it, babydoll take it yeaahhh"

Leaning into her neck in a loud long moan, she felt Bucky's cock ached as he spilled himself inside her. His huge amount cream kept spurting endlessly, so much that it leaked out of her hole. Bucky whined as he continue to roll his hips, unable to stop humping into her stretched out, cum-filled cunt.

As he come down from the high, Bucky tried to pull out but only to be stopped by her circling her legs around him. He chuckled at her needy behaviour; as he found it quite adorable, "Want me to stay, baby?" he whispered softly and got a drunken nod as answer.

Bucky carefully flipped their position without leaving the tightness of her pussy, lying her limping body on his own. "Hmmmm" she hummed sleepily as she snuggled into his chest, eyes heavy with satisfaction.

"Yeah? Need my cock to fill you up for you to sleep well, hmm babydoll?" He cooed as he grind her hips downward, thrusting his cock into her slow and gentle. Y/N whined and mumbled, "Yes, please."

Bucky smiled tenderly, "Okay sweetheart. I'll keep you stuffed as long as you need me to. Now, I need you to go to sleep, okay?" He said, getting simple "okay" from the lady in his arms. Bucky placed a kiss on her head, as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as both of them got more and more drowsy as time goes by.

And at the end of this night, it was safe to say that this had been the best and longest sleep they both had since forever.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Leave some thoughts behind? The sinful the better 🙈

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #fuckboy!bucky #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #thin walls thin lines au

[tadpolesonalgae]

On The Wrong Side of History: The Queen of Hybern

Azriel x Hybernian!Reader

synopsis: Reader is one of Hybern’s generals, fighting for her freedom after Prythian turned her back. Born with no magic, she was forced to cultivate a different kind of power, one that could prove deadly to the inhabitants of magic-blooded fae of Prythian. But when she’s captured and thrown into the scarred hands of the Spy-master, which side of history will prevail? Will Hybern’s story be told, or will it be covered up and concealed before the suffering of her people ever makes it to the light.

warnings: miscarriage at the end, war, general suffering and grimness, slight torture(?)

a/n: I had this idea yesterday and wanted to write something so fair warning it’s a little rushed! It also lightly brushes over miscarriage which might be a delicate subject for some so please take care of yourselves 🧡💛

word count: 3,810

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The war is coming, and not a single inhabitant of Hybern will stand by and let the chance for freedom pass. It’s been five-hundred years since you were confined to that island, cut-off from the mainland and left to rot and starve. Now is the time to reclaim the ground you were deprived of. War is coming, and she is starving for revenge. Starving like your people have for centuries, and nothing will stand between you and fighting for your right to life. Not even the baby you know is growing inside of you.

The air is fresh and damp, and you take the time to inhale its freshness before hot blood is spilled, turning the ground to a mushy, fleshy soup. The day is overcast, heavy grey clouds that look like the mould on bread swelling in the sky, ready to start leaking, dripping down into the open fields. Grass stomped into a muddy mush as feet frantically fight for ground, desperate to keep steady before they’re trodden down into the dirt, trampled and crushed beneath the weight of an army.

If you fall, you cannot rise. Not with a writhing mass of violence crowding the land, oozing bloodlust so thick it won’t matter which army you fight for. A body shouldn’t rise from the mud, any attempts to would be met with steel slicing down in a frantic jolt.

You turn from the entrance of your tent, making for the bed, moving slowly, peacefully, to the protective coatings you’ll be wearing in a couple of hours. The leather that will stick and slide over your skin, wet with blood and sweat, hopefully some rain, too. Heat gathers quickly in the midst of battle, and between the stink of gore and the sweltering sweat that greases any soldier’s grip, rain and wind are much appreciated for their gentle touches.

Your nose twitches as a breeze passes through the camp, quiet in the early hours of misty, grey dawn. Even beneath the cover of your tent, the smell of the battlefield can reach you—damp and bloody, contaminating the fresh air you’d been treating yourself to.

Something shifts inside of you, and you glance down at yourself, hesitantly raising your palm to your lower stomach. You only found out about your condition mere weeks ago, but even had you only found out this morning, you would still be here, preparing for your freedom.

The baby won’t survive, anyway. Not with what your body has turned into.

————

“You’re ready for today?”

A wry smile curves your lips, settling deeper into the chair that’s been set to one side of his room, the large bed in the centre already made despite him having risen as recently as yourself. Neither of you have ever particularly been ones for sleeping in, having so much to do at all times of day. “I’ve been ready for the past five hundred years,” you answer, leaning your chin on the heel of your palm.

The King of Hybern reflects your smile—the slightest twist of his lips. “Perhaps I made a mistake sending Amarantha to seize control of Prythian,” he muses, slipping the shirt over his head, pulling his dark, shoulder-length hair free of the collar once it’s on, making to tighten the laces that can be used to close the V of the hem. A note of dissatisfaction slides beneath your skin as his amulet is obscured—a hollow iron circle, his crest welded from the dark metal inset to its centre.

“Perhaps,” you agree lightly, watching as his fingers tighten the ties of his trousers, noting the distinct lack of armour—he’ll be watching over the Cauldron today. “Though in that case she might still be alive,” you murmur quietly, a little smile dancing in your eyes.

“You disgrace her,” he chuckles lowly, pulling the thick coat from his bed, leather on its exterior to keep out the bite of wind or the lick of rain, while lined with a warm fleece. “You trained beside her for a good portion of your life, at least honour her memory.” The King of Hybern shucks on the coat, the hem of leather coming down past his knees, and he adjusts the cuffs before making for the large, wooden chest at the foot of his bed.

“There was little to honour,” you counter, straightening in the chair as you watch him decide on which daggers to hide beneath the coat. “She was brash and brazen at the best of times, too quick to grow comfortable on her throne. And I never liked her bedside manner. She was always too grabby and rough for my liking.”

“She was ambitious,” he counters, strapping a small blade to the interior of the coat, hidden away in a pocket on his left side. He pauses, briefly considering something, then glancing over you, how you’re lazily sprawled across his chair, “though her nails could have been a bit shorter. They were an unpleasant surprise, at times.”

Your lips curve at one corner, sharing a look with him, before he returns to selecting his daggers, settling on one with a jagged, serrated edge, a wicked hook to its tip.

It’s then he turns, blades concealed beneath his coat and he silently walks to you, charcoal eyes glittering as you sit straighter. “How long have you been serving me now?” He asks, pausing at your side, so you have to incline your chin to look at him, baring your throat. “Five centuries? Six?”

“Six and a half,” you reply, “if you’re counting foot soldier duties as serving.”

He smiles a strange smile, glittering teeth showing briefly beneath familiar lips. “Loyalties are rewarded,” he says cryptically, his palm settling beneath your jaw, inclining your chin—it would be easy for him to snap your neck with the slightest snap of his hands. “Have you thought about what you want?”

“It seems greedy to ask for something before I’ve even succeeded at winning this war,” you reply.

“Consider it a show of assurance,” he remarks, “I have no doubt you’ll prove instrumental to Prythian’s ruin. Now, what would you like, upon your victory?”

Your eyes gleam with hunger, and you wonder if it’s at all possible he might not already know what you desire, more than anything. And looking at the way those charcoal eyes of his are gleaming, as if goading you on, urging the words to spill like honey from your velvety tongue—you feel it’s impossible. He knows what your request will be. And he’s practically dragging the desire from your throat, with the grip he has on it.

“Make me your queen.”

———

Darkness pounds at your mind, eyes aching as if the blood vessels are bursting, hot pressure building, ready to splash out through your pupils. The air is cool…cold, skin hypersensitive to the slightest shift in temperature, telling you there’s a layer of sweat over your exterior, alerting you to each swish of air.

Your thigh stings, the laceration taking its time to heal, longer than others of your kind would. The small cuts you’d been given the day before—a few inches long—have scabbed over, no longer in danger of leaking blood, but there’s going to be a definite pucker around each cut. A shiver traces up your spine, an involuntary shudder passing through your lungs as coldness sweeps across your skin, like a winter’s breeze.

Slowly, keeping your breathing as even as possible, you crack an eye open, only to be met with darkness. Hesitantly, the other slides open, and you peek at your surroundings but the dark seems impenetrable, thick and absolutely solid. Your nostrils flare, and the faint smell of ammonia and iron waft up along with the sharp tang you associate with stomach acid, the air itself thick and damp, slightly humid. Fertile and rife, perfect for things to start growing.

Casting your gaze downward, you can spot the stitching that’s covering the split in your right thigh, jaggedly stitched up, and from the looks of it you’re quite glad you weren’t conscious for it. You also notice the grime that’s already begun settling on you, dirt and mud and gore still layering your skin, save for the small perimeter that’s been cleaned around your thigh. The thought of how you must smell is a grim one.

“You’re awake,” a voice observes from the darkness, making your ears twitch.

You keep your mouth tightly sealed, waiting to hear what the observer has to say. Let them speak their part first, before you start making your own moves. Already you can tell this one is different from the previous ones—yesterday’s one had a lighter voice, squeaky and dragging. This one sounds like the first roll of thunder before a storm breaks.

“You’ll forgive me for the haphazard stitching. Healers are needed elsewhere.”

So this one’s to blame for the child’s-quilt on your thigh. It’s more than likely it was done intentionally carelessly, rather than simply poorly—poor stitching could lead to further infection, while careless stitching just might leave a trace of a scar. On a regularly healing body, at least.

Straightening in your chair, you try to pick out where the voice is coming from, but the darkness is so thick, and your eyes have barely had a chance to adjust, and with the faelight bobbing above your head there’s little chance they will anytime soon. Keeping them shut would be the quickest way, but it would be leaving yourself open. More open than you already are, that is, with your arms bound at your back. They haven’t bothered to shackle you to the chair itself today, the ties from yesterday are gone, and you can feel the weight of the stone around your wrists: Gorsian shackles—utterly useless on you.

“What do you want today?” You ask into the darkness, stretching your fingers to keep them awake and ready. It’s already been at least three days, and you suspect whoever has come to visit today isn’t just any old torturer. You can tell from the silence they keep, how undetectable they are despite your honed senses, sharper than most’s. They had to be, for you to survive.

“The same thing anyone might want from a prisoner of war,” the voice replies, ghosting through the room, bouncing about in the darkness so it’s impossible to tell its root. “And what is that?” You ask, following the script, familiar with the direction of the conversation—unaccustomed, however, to be on this side of it. “Information,” the voice replies, and there’s less than a second of detectable presence before your hair is wrapped around a fist and dragged back, your throat exposed as you’re positioned over the back of the chair, making it impossible to swallow. The faelight glares down at you, beaming into your adjusted eyes, and you’re forced to squint as your vision blurs from the sting of the light and the grip on your scalp. Cool steel settles just below your jaw, the tip of a blade spiking into the soft flesh just beneath the hollow of your mouth.

Your teeth grit together, hissing sharply at the roughness of the touch, thigh aching from the tension that shot through your body. A laugh forces its way from your chest, ragged and strained as you peer up into the faelight, pupils tightening to slits in the face of the brightness, “give me something in return. I can’t very well go back empty handed, can I?”

Your captor roughly tugs on your hair, your lip twitching a little from the pain but otherwise unruffled. “You might go back with no hands at all, unless you’re careful.”

“Threats already? You haven’t even told me what you’re after,” you bite out, voice heavy and grim.

A beat passes between you, then the steel is flipped away between deft fingers, removed from your throat in favour of pressing to your sternum—a warning before the cuts begin, gradually skinning you alive until they get what they want. Fury simmers quietly inside of you, but you keep it tucked away. That’ll only come in useful once the pain starts setting in. A fuel to fall back on when food would become a problem. But it’s high time you return to your king. You’ve spent long enough here, all because of a stupid, foolish…

“Would you like to hear something interesting, then? In the name of compromise?” The voice asks, low and rasping, and you sit silently, waiting for what they have to say.

“The one who visited you yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that…each one refused to come back the next day. Insisted there was something wrong with you.” The hand tightens on your hair then releases, the presence vanishing like a flame snuffed out, leaving your skin tingling with awareness. “Once is by chance, twice is a coincidence, but three…three’s a pattern.”

Something hisses past your ear, and you jerk in your seat, not foolish enough to stand. You glare into the darkness, peering deep from beneath your lowered brows, lips turned down in the corners as you try to pick out even the faintest shadow, but they all blend together so seamlessly, like one giant, blank wall. Not a single shape to be found.

Something whispers to your left, then cracks to your right, your pulse beginning to pick up involuntarily form the confusing stimulus, attention split between both directions.

A figure steps into the grey shift in light, silent and menacing as it prowls forward, one military-grade boot in front of the other, and you take in the towering silhouette, the great wings looming in deeper shadow. Your eyes follow the light as it glides up his frame, revealing long legs clad in Illyrian leathers, scarred hands within easy reach of visible weapons, a lean waist and broad chest, the Night Court insignia clear over his heart. Cold, cutting hazel eyes, with a glint you recognise. After having spent so many centuries gazing into eyes like that, it would be strange to not be able to place the intense glint of honed reproach, the look that desires utter eradication of the thing that’s causing suffering.

Calm and deadly, he is your exterminator.

“We’ll start with an easy question,” he says, gaze unfaltering as he meets your own.

“What is it that makes all kinds of magic recoil from you, General?”

A slow smile breaks across your lips, delicately curving in a mocking grin. You should have known this would be his question, that they would have figured something was wrong with you by now—the slowed healing, the way their magic leans back from you, as if trying to scuttle away.

“And you?” You ask, a gleam in your eye. “What’s your title?”

His mask doesn’t shift, not even the slightest hint of emotion in his dark eyes. Just silence. Patient, grating, silence.

“Not even the name of my captor?” You push, smile slipping away, settling back into a wall of ice to match his own—you can play that game, too. “Or are you nobody? You don’t seem like you’re nobody, though.” You angle your chin, shifting in the chair slightly, re-flexing your fingers, testing the gorsian shackles. “You’re clearly important, if you were sent in to investigate after three turned away, and considering the insignia you’re wearing, with those wings…master torturer of the Night Court?”

He inclines his head, “Spymaster. Shadowsinger.”

“And how do your shadows like me, Spymaster?” You murmur, able to guess the answer.

His dark eyes narrow on you almost imperceptibly, then his right hand is wrapping around the hilt of one of his blades, inset with strange markings, as dark as obsidian. The hairs on the nape of your neck rise as he thumbs the blade free, a sharp glint in his eye being the last thing you see of him before he steps away into shadow, falling seamlessly back into the darkness.

“How long had you planned to let this war go on for?” He rasps from the darkness, the question bounding in and out, coming from different sides that make it impossible to track his position. All while he’s free to observe from the shadow. “You ask that like we have control over the nature of war,” you reply neutrally, keeping your gaze sharp, but all it looks the same. If you could find a way to put the faelight out, or to lure him to stand before you… Getting some information first would be preferable, though.

“But maybe we had an idea.”

The sound of steel slicing through air comes from your right, and you instinctively follow the familiar hiss of a blade, body tensing, as if expecting it to come flying out from the darkness.

“You’d have to be confident in a victory to have a timeframe in mind.” His rasp echoes throughout the room you’re kept in, whispering in varying volumes as it’s bounced off shadow. “We’ve had a long time to prepare,” you reply vaguely, features remaining blank, despite being unable to so much as feel the weight of his attention. If it wasn’t for the fact you’d seen him, and were having a conversation, you wound’t believe he was in here with you. You hate to admit it, but it’s impressive.

“And I suppose you believed you’d win?” He questions.

“I know we’ll win. Whether I’m in here or not.”

The steel tip of a blade grazes the top of your back, slowly tracing the length of your shoulders, occasionally pressing deep enough to disrupt the skin, but mostly remaining as a taunting reminder—he could choose to cut you at any moment, as deeply or as slowly as he pleases. “What made you believe that? Numbers? Experience? Speeches?”

“We have the cauldron,” you reply, keeping apprehension clear from your voice, the tip of the blade pressing a little too deeply into the back of your left shoulder. “What was it like, by the way? Seeing your soldiers wiped from existence in the blink of an eye?” The blade bites into your skin, probably pushed in to about an inch of flesh, and you grit your teeth as he twists the steel, opening the wound up. “I’m fairly certain we targeted your aerial armies on the first day,” you grit out, remembering the wings at his back. “I’m guessing you knew some of that scum?”

The blade retracts calmly, but he makes no further incisions, walking back around to stand in front of you. He’s strangely under control, considering how badly the war will be going for his side.

“Why are you so repulsive to fae magic?” He repeats. Unruffled by the comment. Good. “Why don’t you come closer and figure it out yourself?” You reply, noting the living shadows that are gliding down from his shoulders. “See if your shadows can answer that question.”

He regards you silently, then slides the blade back into its home at his hip, walking forward until he crowds your space, scarred fingers biting brutally into your cheeks, squeezing as he leans down. “I don’t think I need an answer. Not anymore.” You keep your mouth shut, confused by what he’s saying. “You see, despite your certainty, you were proved wrong. Two days ago. I would like to know what it is about you that makes magic react the way it does, but at the end of the day, it’s ultimately of no importance.”

You glare up at him, muscles tense from the grip he has on your cheeks, squeezing your jaw.

“You lost the war,” he says, quietly. “Your king was decapitated by one of the humans he used as a test subject. Felled by his own creation.”

There’s no falsity in his gaze, just ugly, unforgiving, truth.

And he’s in reach.

You twist your wrists in a snappy movement, harsh enough the already weakened gorsian stone crumbles away, allowing you to launch from the chair, hand seamlessly wrapping around the hilt of his blade, sliding it free with the familiar sing of steel.

He’s caught off guard—it’s impossible to break out of those shackles—his moments of surprise allowing you to use his weight against him, pushing into the frame of muscle in the places you’re familiar with, tripping him up. His wings thrash as they’re caught beneath him, shadows vanishing at your proximity, shoved away to some godsforsaken pocket as you aim the blade for his throat, his own scarred hands wrapping around your wrists to loosen your hold. But fae are made of magic, their very strength dependant on it. Encountering a creature that nullifies any and all types…his muscles tremble beneath you, shaking with the force of keeping you from plunging the blade into his throat.

“I’ll kill you, and your High Lord,” you hiss, leveraging your own weight, so the blade sinks down toward the bare, unprotected part of flesh. “I’ll end every single one of you, and I’ll save that abomination for last,” you snarl, in regard to the human who he’d told you decapitated your king.

His strength is draining swiftly, and he knows you can sense it, can feel the tremble in his muscles, and the steel inches closer, spurred on by his weakness.

The Spymaster grits his teeth as he shifts suddenly beneath you, allowing you to gain precious inches so the steel scratches the swell in his male throat, but in turn allowing him to raise his leg from the ground, stomping his boot into your stomach, sending you flying back, crashing into the chair you’d been sat on, the faelight flickering above.

Your lips part, eyes going wide as nausea rises up swiftly, having only seconds before you’re vomiting onto the floor, heaving up chewed food and saliva, a dizzying feeling sweeping through your entire body.

You’re flipped over not even a second after you get the first clear breath down, the Spymaster over you, dark eyes cold as ice as the steel of that blade glints in the unnaturally pale faelight. The blade hisses down, aimed to slice up beneath your ribs, cutting into your heart, but his eyes have dropped to the hand you have over your abdomen. Nostrils flaring at the slight tang of blood.

His features slack. “You’re—”

You take the chance, knocking the blade from his hand, reaching to wrap your hands around his throat, but something impacts with your temple, a second figure coming from the darkness that you hadn’t noticed, and you feel as the hit registers.

A fresh wave of dizziness slams into you, the world tilting dramatically before you’re slumping, heading for the floor before hands catch you. Making sure you don’t land on your front.

The world goes silent.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x yn #on the wrong side of history

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Blood Money Chapter One: The Capo - A Reader x Dave York x Max Phillips fic - Vampire Mafia AU

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific warnings: Reader is in captivity, chained up, a servant of a malicious vampire mob outfit, blood, gore, horror elements, existensial dread, thoughts of death and ending reader's life. Max Phillips is a warning in himself. Canon/horror trope-typical violence. I'm going back to tag lists so please let me know if you want to be added! Big thanks to @wannab-urs and @pascalispretty for beta-ing and proofing this one! And special thanks to @pastelnap and @patti7dc for being my muses on this one, even if I am so mad you made me start a new work with my WIP backlog as it is (I love you really thank you so much!!) Without further ado:

Summary: Stuck in a basement for over a year, fixing the books of one of the most ruthless Mafia outfits in New York City has no perks, only pain, misery and servitude. But when your masters are murdered by a rival clan, you wish for a swift death, but Max Phillips has other plans for you. [Ao3 Link] Masterlist Next Chapter->

Chapter One: The Capo

The clink of chains, the dripping of a leaking pipe. The combined smell of your own body odour, blood, and mould. The flicker of the too-bright fluorescent tube lighting burning your eyes. The cool air of the basement hits your bare skin, a pleasant distraction from a fever burning through you.

These were the only sensations you have known for over a year, but getting kidnapped by the vampire clan that runs this part of New York City renders such discomforts mundane. The fact you are still drawing breath is a blessing and a curse.

“Come on meat-sack, work time.” The vampire guarding the door snaps you out of your sleep-deprived haze. You look up to see Ren, a sadistic underling with a habit of trying to scare you enough to make you piss yourself. Although, that hasn’t happened in months. His jet-black hair is slicked back in a ponytail and his dark eyes devour you, his tongue snaking over his lips as he lingers on your exposed chest.

You sit at your desk, atop a faded leather office chair that creaks and wobbles from age. But it’s not like you could tell the Vampire Mafia that they needed better facilities for their staff.  You flick through the disorganised mess of papers, receipts, shipment manifests and try your best to ignore him. But he saunters over to you, coming to hover over your shoulder.

“Shame Hiro’s going to fuck you up later, you’ve become so obedient.” Ren chuckles as he rattles your restraints. He snaps his fanged teeth against your neck, you’re almost sure the blunt ridges of his incisors brush your skin but you’re so desensitised now that you just nod. He wouldn’t risk puncturing your skin, even today. But you doubt you’d care even if he did.

“You’ve gotten boring anyway.” He grumbles at your lack of response and leaves, locking the secure door behind him as you sit in your concrete box. Your calloused, raw hands sift through the documents once more, but your mind is foggy and sluggish. You actually think you might be dying. You sip at the canteen of water chained to your desk – the metallic tang of contaminated water burns your throat – but it’s better than dying of thirst.

Your head pounds. You try to balance the manifest against the ledger in front of you but your vision blurs. Your body aches with cold numbness that spreads to your extremities like a spill of oil, slow, sluggish, suffocating. You’re falling asleep, face pressed against the desk when you hear it, the unmistakable rattle of semi-automatic weapons above you.

Your head perks up, something about the break in monotony appeals to that dim, flickering ember in your chest that wants to live. You know there’s no point trying to break free, you’ve spent the best part of a year trying to free yourself. So, you wait, skin buzzing with tension as you wait for whatever is coming your way.

Footsteps in the corridor beyond your prison door make your heart race. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the locking mechanism clicks and you hold your breath. The door swings open and the realisation hits you; who would even come and rescue you? The FBI? The Police? Fucking Columbo?

“Let’s see what Hiro’s got hidden away in here.”

A low rumbling voice floats through the door as you feel your stomach lurch. You try and cover your naked body with your free hand, palm splayed over your right breast, forearm draped over the other.

“Help, please!” You call out, desperation getting the better of you for fear that they would miss you and you’d end up stranded, starving to death in your concrete prison. The door swings wide and you feel the blood leave your cheeks as another, unfamiliar vampire darkens the doorway.

He’s tall and clean shaven with perfectly styled hair that sweeps over his brows. His dark eyes glimmer in the harsh tube lighting, they rake over your naked form with a deep, primal hunger.

His three-piece suit is tailored to perfection. Grey suit jacket and slacks snug enough to show off his lean body but loose enough to not hinder his movement. The red and black baroque waistcoat and pocket square ooze opulence. If there wasn’t a semi-automatic rifle in his one hand, and a bloodied knife in the other, you would probably think him dashing.

But the fangs that jut over his plush lips extinguish all hope of escape. They glimmer, almost luminous, in the harsh lighting and you sit down slowly, crumpling into the decrepit office chair.

“Just get it over with.”

The vampire cocks an eyebrow at you, baring his perfectly white teeth at you in amusement. He saunters over, weapons still clutched in his large hands. You lean your neck to the side, eyes closed, you can’t even bring yourself to cry. You just want it all to end.

You feel him hover over you, the smell of his floral cologne invading your senses as you try not to react. The less you seem meek the quicker it’ll all be. The chains clink and you feel the restraints on your right ankle and wrist pull taut.

“Poor little thing, naked, dirty…” The vampire mutters in your ear, he inhales pointedly against your hairline, “But not afraid? Why is that little lamb?”

You go rigid as you feel the chains jostle once more, then an audible crack as your restrains fall away from your limbs. You whimper involuntarily at the blissful relief that radiates from the abused flesh; you’ve not had your restraints off in so long. You hear the vampire hiss, a curse in Spanish leaving his lips before he barks orders to someone else in the room.

“Just kill me!” You wail as you open your eyes, you turn to your captor and try to push against him, goad him on, rile him up to just rip your throat out and get it over with. You pound meekly against his chest with little effect.

A warm, heavy jacket weighs your shoulders down and you look up to see a strange look on the vampire’s face. A mixture of curiosity and pity, which only serves to makes you angry. But the world lurches around you before you can form another thought. You fall forward, nose pressed against the vampire’s silk waistcoat, and you welcome the sweet release of death.

----

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dave finally snaps as he paces behind his desk. Not for the first time, he’s glad for the hardwood flooring. He knows there would be a worn patch beneath his feet if his office was carpeted. Max is splayed out on the chaise lounge in the middle of the office, a smug smile causing his cheeks to dimple. His buttons popped open to display the gold chain around his neck.

“She’s useful. She’s been running those books for well over a year, judging by the sores on her, we could use her.” Max says with a shrug, eyeing his superior with such challenge that would spell death for any of the other Capos.

Dave falters at the comment, searching Max’s features for a hint of a joke, or even deception. But for once, he reads Max like a book; something about this human is special. And Dave intends to find out what it is.  

“We’ve been a team for a very long time Max, don’t make me regret this.”

----

You cough violently as you jolt awake, your mouth is dry and your tongue like sandpaper. Your head swims as you try and take in the dark surroundings.

Gone is the smell of rot and decay. Instead, you find your face pressed into clean, soft sheets that smell so fresh it’s almost surreal. You blink sleep from your eyes and roll up into a sitting position, you gaze around the darkness with tired eyes. You spot two doors; the one is firmly shut to your left. The other is ajar but the lack of light prevents you from seeing where it leads.

You turn back to look at the nightstand: there’s a pitcher of water and a glass waiting for you with a small note tucked under the base, and a lamp with a pull cord. You close your eyes and turn it on, opening your eyes slowly to the newly illuminated room. The colour scheme is deep brown and white, minimalist, yet dripping with wealth.

There’s a closet with mirrored doors at the far end of the room, next to what you can now safely assume is an ensuite. The mirrors let you look at yourself for the first time in so long and it makes your stomach roll. You’re too far away to make out the details but the sight is horrifying. You’re forced to look away from the gaunt, emaciated image of yourself, instead looking anywhere else.

The light from the modest lamp spills out over deep brown wooden floor, you let your eyes roam away from the mirrors, up to high-vaulted ceilings and down to the thick blackout curtains which effectively block any and all light from the outside world.

Not underground.

You think absently to yourself as another cough erupts from your throat. You pull the note out and place it on your lap as you pick the pitcher up with both hands, not bothering to decant the untainted liquid. It tastes like nectar on your abused tongue.

You groan aloud as the water washes over your dry tongue, rehydrating your mouth like an old sponge. You feel better with every gulp, but you force yourself to stop. You know if you drink too quickly you’ll just make yourself sick. You instead pour a glass of water, putting the pitcher down on the nightstand before unfolding the note.

The door is unlocked, the vampire guarding your room will arrange a car to take you wherever you need, if you so wish to leave. Her name is Amalia, and she is tasked with looking after you.

I hope you stay. We could use someone like you on our side.

Max (The handsome vampire that saved your life)

 Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of events that led to this point. You’re not dead, nor are you chained up, yet the sense of imminent danger remains. It clings to you like wet clothing, dragging you down, chilling you to the bone.

You look down at your body, lifting the sheets to check for restraints, you notice you are wearing someone else’s clothes. A white dress shirt that smells of orange peel and cinnamon, and a pair of loose, grey, cotton sweatpants. Both articles of clothing are too big for you but there’s a strange sense of comfort wearing something not your own. Not that you’ve owned anything substantial for some time.

You force yourself out of bed and make for the closed door. You knock gently on it before speaking through it to your vampire guardian.

“Amalia?”

“Ah, you’re awake, excellent. Have you made a decision yet?” Her voice is gruff and coarse but there’s a warmth to the way she speaks, setting you a little more at ease.

“No, but I am starving and I need to wash. Can you get me something to eat?”

“Of course, what kind of thing do you want?”

“I don’t know.” You say softly, realising you haven’t eaten a hot meal in as long as you can remember.

“I’ll figure it out. Try not to get your bandages wet, Max will kill me if he has to redress them so soon.” The sound of Amalia’s footsteps heading away from the door sets something off in your brain, the instinct to flee hits you like a punch to the gut.

No matter what the note says, you know that trusting vampires was foolish and often deadly. You have the chance to flee, but to where? You don’t even know where you are; are you still in New York? Did they move you across state lines?

And what would you even do? You’re weak, malnourished, they’d catch you before you even leave the building.

You scold yourself internally as you feel the desire to run ebb away, leaving hopelessness in its wake. You trudge into the bathroom and strip out of the shirt and sweatpants. The ensuite is large, with a walk-in shower taking up much of the right wall. The floor is tiled, large blue squares with streaks of silver and white arcing through the tile like the veins in marble.

The walls are bright white, and all the light fixtures and faucets are sparkling gold. You wonder for a moment if it’s all real gold. You spot the sink and mirrored medicine cabinet which you immediately cover with a towel from the heated rack fixed to the wall next to it. You’re not ready to see yourself, not yet.

You open the medicine cabinet to find it stocked with expensive shampoo, conditioner, and soap, as well as generic deodorant sticks, toothbrushes, toothpaste, even mouthwash. You feel a strange twinge of gratitude as you note the effort put in to accommodate a non-vampire like this. But you can’t trust it, your brain automatically lurching to thoughts of being buttered up, coaxed into a false sense of security. You grab the things you need and close the cabinet.

You turn the shower on and angle your body so that your right arm and leg stay out of the spray. You wash as best you can, taking twice the normal time due to only having one functioning arm and leg. You work through the products you had selected, making sure to wash your hair thoroughly. You can’t even remember the last shower you took, let alone the last time you washed yourself so thoroughly.

You towel off before using some of the fancy moisturisers on your face and skin without thinking, a strange appeal to your life before as you fall so easily into a muscle memory routine. Tears spring from your eyes, tracking down your cheeks as you feel something you can’t put into words. Like a burst of anguish and elation all at the same time. Like a burning blade being quenched in oil, it hisses and spits, but something about it all feels right.

You pull on the sweatpants and button up the dress shirt, subconsciously nuzzling into the collar as you head back to the bed. You still don’t know what time it is, but you really don’t care; you’re hungry and tired, and once you’ve eaten your fill you plan to sleep for as long as your captors allow.

You sit on top of the sheets, knees pulled up to your chest as you try to occupy your thoughts with something other than the looming inevitability of the servitude to your new vampiric overlords.

Same shit, different choice of designer suit.

----

“Food’s ready. Do you want it in there or in the dining room?” Amalia’s gruff voice calls through the door and your head perks up from its position atop your knees as you wake from a daydream.

“I can come out?”

“Of course. Max told me he left you a letter, didn’t you read it?”

“Well, yeah,” You call back, your voice stronger than before, a little self-confidence bleeding through, “But I just assumed that was some sort of trick.”

“Smart, I’ll give you that, but Max and Mr York are men of their word.”

“I’ll have it out there.” You say, crawling off the bed with weak legs. Your bandages were bleeding through a little and you wince at the deep crimson spreading across the off-white mesh.

“Alright I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be just outside the far door, the one with the peephole, if you need me.” Amalia says and you wait until you hear the closing of a second door before you twist the doorknob, mustering up the courage to leave the modest sanctuary of your room.

The next room is dimly lit, enough light to see by but with an ambience to it that felt almost romantic. There are no windows in this room, in their stead are lavish paintings in gilded frames. The long dining table sits at the centre of the room and you want to spend some time exploring this new space, but the smell of food draws you deeper into the room.

Three paper bags and three cup drinks sit on placemats and coasters, protecting the rich mahogany of the tabletop from grease and condensation. Each bag has the contents scribbled in Sharpie somewhere on the exterior, the drinks the same.

Cheeseburger and Fries

Chicken shawarma (Dairy Free)

Vegan jackfruit loaded nachos (Gluten Free)

Once again, the care and attention to your wants and needs strikes you like a physical blow. None of this was necessary or even reasonable. You’re a meat-sack waiting for the inevitable chaining to a desk and eventual draining when your value diminishes. Yet here you were, with a choice of three meals, and three sodas, as if they want you to be comfortable.

You rip all the bags open, sampling from each as you go. You can’t remember a time when you had variety in your diet, let alone a warm meal. You barely touch the soda, the fizz harsh on your tongue after so long without it; but there’s almost nothing left of the take-out bags by the time you’re done.

You settle back against the dining chair and let out a soft noise, somewhere between a whine and a burp. You sit for a while, letting the post-food coma take over as you feel giddy. You’ve been feeding on pouches of brown or grey mush for too long – you know you’ve overeaten, but you don’t care.

Freedom tastes sweet.

You ignore the little voice in the back of your mind that tries to remind you that this isn’t freedom. You want to acknowledge the small win, savour the brief reprieve from crippling despair.

The sound of the apartment door opening has you jumping to your feet, backing away slowly from the table, subconsciously making for the bedroom. Your heart hammers in your chest, your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive as you try to fight the Pavlovian instinct to submit and drop to your knees and bow your head.

“Max, come on, she’s still fragile, I don’t think she wants to see anyone yet.” Amalia’s voice has lost all the warmth she had used with you, and you hear Max hiss at her denial.

“Amalia, get out of my way or I will move you, and I can’t promise you’ll still have all your limbs when I’m done.”

You’re frozen, glued to the spot as you wait for Max to force his way inside, your skin slick with sweat as you wring your hands in front of you. You hear Amalia make a huffing noise of dissent, not quite a sigh, but something similar in tone.

The door opens slowly and Max slips inside, closing it with a soft click, as if after his explosive conversation with Amalia he could pass inside undetected. You let out a shaky breath and watch as he turns to see you standing there, arms crossed over your chest.

“Ah, shit, you heard that then?” He says with a dazzling flash of his perfectly white teeth. It’s disarming, leaving you feeling more confident than you know you have any right to be.

“It’s hard to ignore the threat of dismemberment when it’s practically roared through the hall.” You say softly, immediately clamping your hands over your mouth, eyes wide and pleading as you watch Max stalk over to you.

He’s wearing the same pressed slacks as before, but gone is the suit jacket and waistcoat. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up, the material accentuates his firm biceps; and gold shirt garters sit just above his elbows, holding them in place. His shirt is open, revealing a gold chain resting against his tan skin and small tufts of chest hair. You shamefully feel a spark of attraction for the monster before you, but you can’t deny he’s attractive, vampire or not.

“Glad you’ve got some fire in you, was worried you’d be deathly boring.” Max says with a dramatic roll of his eyes before opening a door to your left, gesturing for you to follow.

You hesitate, unsure if you should follow, but ultimately you decide to do as you’re told. You follow Max through into a large study, the walls are lined with bookshelves – mostly non-fiction but you spot a few unmarked ledgers bound in leather with gilded lettering interspersed amongst them.

Max flops down on one of the cream sofas that surround a small black coffee table. Beyond you spy an expensive looking desk with an equally extravagant looking green leather chair. You take a seat opposite Max, tucking your bare feet underneath you as you try to stop fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“So, you’re probably expecting some grand monologue about how you belong to our Clan now, how you are to serve us as a diligent little worker bee until you serve no further use and we dispose of you. About right?”

You nod curtly, your eyes roaming over the vampire so casually sprawled out like a cat before you. His rich brown eyes are almost kind, but there’s a stony edge to them that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Did you read my note?”

You give another nod and Max rolls his eyes and sighs, a deliberate action, seeing as vampires don’t breathe.

“I’m not in the business of being the only one talking, as much as I like the sound of my own voice. It gets tedious,” He pauses and sits up straight, resting his elbows on his knees before cradling his chin on top of his interlaced fingers, “Please, I meant it when I said we would let you go; for vampires, we’re actually pretty reasonable.”

“Sorry, I’m just not used to being allowed to speak.” You bow your head, averting his piercing gaze. He makes a small tsk sound and you feel the warmth of his fingers brush your jaw. You try not to shudder but it’s like fire is being breathed into your skin, vitality returning to you like sunshine after unending rain. His large hand cradles your face, and he coaxes you to look up at him. He’s leaning over the coffee table, his eyes soft and vulnerable as he tries to reassure you without words.

“If you choose to stay, you will never have to worry about being kept mute, nor caged. You will be part of our family, you have my word.” His voice is serious, fringed with emotion and a fragility you don’t understand.

“And if I choose to leave?”

“We will let you go, but you will be on your own. Hiro is in the wind, and he won’t stop until you’re back under his heel, or dead.” He says with a sympathetic twitch of his lips, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace.

“So I don’t really have a choice?”

“No, I guess not, but I know which option I would pick.” Max goes to move his hand from your face but you snatch his wrist without thinking, holding it against you. The tender touch of a monster is too sweet on your touch starved skin.

“But I mean it, we don’t intend to keep you prisoner, we’d like you to work for us, bookkeeping just like for Hiro, but without the chains and nudity.” Max doesn’t try to pull away and you drop your hand back into your lap. You lean into his touch, your mind softened by the promises of his silver tongue, your body mending at the tenderness of his fingers.

“Fine, I‘ll do it.”

“Excellent. Well we don’t expect you to start straight away, you’re, frankly,” He pauses as he pulls away to look you up and down, “A hot mess, and we want you healthy and fit before putting you to work.”

Max stands and holds his hand out to you and you wobble to your feet and take it as firmly as your weakened body can manage.

“Thank you.” You feel tears well up as you feel the rush of emotion coursing through you.

“No crying now, I don’t know how to deal with that shit,” Max scrunches his face up at you, like you’ve just dropped a dead rat at his feet.

“Noted.”

You feel a small laugh escape your lips as you shake your head in disbelief. Max takes you back to your room, hovering behind you but never touching you. Even if you secretly wish he would, he bids you a good morning, informing you that it’s just after four.

“Oh, and I’ll be by later to redress your bandages. Sleep well.”

The door clicks shut behind you and you take a shaky breath before climbing into bed, nestling amongst the soft sheets before closing your eyes.

Here goes nothing.

Thanks for reading! I'm going back to tag lists so please let me know if you want to be added! Let me know what you think!

#tw: vampires #tw: horror #tw: blood #tw: guns #tw: violence #tw: captivity #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #max Phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips smut #dave York #pedro pascal fandom #equalizer 2 #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x female reader #fic: blood money #blood money #blood money fic #vi writes #vampire au #mafia au

[pigeonguy]

TLDR: don't do your T shot while drunk!

reasons to not do your T shot while drunk

you will throw out the cap of the needle you extract the T with

i) you will not be able to unscrew the needle without the cap

ii) you will have to open a new needle to get the cap of it so you can unscrew it

2. you will drop the needle you put into your tummy

i) you can not find it on your floor, it's the floor's needle now it's contaminated anyays

ii) you will again have to open another needle and syringe so you get the right needle head

3. YOU WILL PUT THE NEEDLE HEAD ON WRONG AND ONLY REALIZE ONCE IT'S IN YOU

i) it still works and doesn't leak but it does bleed more for some unknown reason??

Anyways this is partially a reminder for me and partially a warning to other transmascs not to be a ding-dong

thanks

#transgender #trans man #transmasc #hrt #thank you to my computer for catching my spelling mistakes so I don't look like an even more ding dong idiot

[dykesynthezoid]

Nuclear Accidents to read about for more Burrow’s End Context (Besides Chernobyl):

I’ve recently become hyperfixated with reading about these and a lot of them have bits that I think can add to what’s going on in Burrow’s End. (These are far from all the possible examples I could give you, these just seemed the most relevant). I’ve grouped them by location in honor of the Cold War themes we’ve been seeing.

Soviet Incidents:

Mayak Kyshtym Disaster (1957) | Considered the third worst nuclear plant disaster in history (behind Chernobyl and Fukushima). Case of neglect and lack of oversight and general human stupidity. Caused huge amount of contamination to surrounding area; they had previously already been dumping their waste into a nearby lake. High civilian casualties; at least 200 people died and many, many more were affected.

“In the 45 years afterwards, about half a million people in the region have been irradiated in one or more of the incidents, exposing them to up to 20 times the radiation suffered by the Chernobyl disaster victims outside of the plant itself.”

Vinča Nuclear Institute Criticality Excursion (1958) | Researchers smelled ozone while they were unknowingly being irradiated, resulting in one death

Greifswald Nuclear Power Plant Incidents | 1975: Electrical fire destroyed control lines to coolant pumps 1989: Another cooling pump malfunction caused near-meltdown

KS-150 Incidents (1976, 1977) | Several different incidents involving coolant malfunction

K-431 Chazhma Bay Accident (1985) | Criticality excursion on a nuclear submarine caused by operator error. Resulted in a large area of severe contamination. (10 fatalities, another 49 injured, unknown how many could have been affected by contamination).

US Incidents:

Louis Slotin Accident (1946) | There are several excursions and deaths associated with the Manhattan Project and Los Alamos— but this one involved witnesses reporting a “blue glow” as the resulting radiation ionized the surrounding air. Slotin died within days, and several of his colleagues were injured, one permanently disabled, with some later dying early deaths.

Cecil Kelley Accident (1958) | Procedural error caused criticality accident that resulted in a “bright flash of blue light;” (warning that the descriptions on this one get particularly grisly as Kelley received more than seven times the adult lethal dose of radiation; he was the only one affected).

Surry Power Station Incidents (1972, 1979, 1986, 2011) | Multiple cooling system accidents, primarily those involving escaping steam, resulting in burns and one explosion. (Only the events in 1972 and 1986 resulted in loss of life, for 6 deaths total)

Three Mile Island Accident (1979) | Water escaped from the coolant system due to a mix of operator error and design flaws. This led to the reactor overheating and an eventual leak of radioactive gases via the steam released during the incident. Luckily the contamination of surrounding areas appears to have been minimal (for the most part).

Pilgrim Nuclear Power Station Malfunctions (1986) | Used Cape Cod Bay as the water source for its cooling system, resulting in an impact on aquatic plant and animal life. In 1986, recurring equipment malfunctions resulted in an emergency shutdown. The US Nuclear Regulatory Commission once referred to it as “one of the worst-run″ nuclear power plants in the US.

Peach Bottom Atomic Power Station Incidents (1987) | Nuclear Regulatory Commission found evidence of misconduct, procedure error, corporate malfeasance, deliberate disregard for safety regulations, and pollution via accidental waste leakage into a nearby river. Resulted in a forced shutdown in 1987, associated with cooling malfunctions.

(There are several other [mostly nonfatal] US incidents at nuclear power plants, too many to fully get into here. See: Idaho National Laboratory, Enrico Fermi Nuclear Generating Station, Browns Ferry Nuclear Plant, Nine Mile Point Nuclear Station, Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Power Plant, Millstone Nuclear Power Station, Crystal River Nuclear Plant, and Davis–Besse Nuclear Power Station)

Other Locations:

Lucens Reactor Accident (1969) | Loss of coolant accident led to partial meltdown and contamination of the reactor cavern

Vandellòs Nuclear Power Plant Accident (1989) | A fire damaged the cooling system, leading to near-meltdown

Other Resources:

Wikipedia:

Page for nuclear and radiation accidents

Page for criticality accidents

Page for LOCA (Loss-of-coolant accident)

Union of Concerned Scientists:

A Brief History of Nuclear Accidents Worldwide

National Health Institute:

Civilian nuclear incidents: An overview of historical, medical, and scientific aspects

See Also:

World Nuclear Association, Atomic Archive, Institute for Energy and Environmental Research, The Nuclear Regulatory Commission, and the International Atomic Energy Agency.

#hyperfocused on this real hard whoops #dimension 20 #burrows end #burrow’s end

[fatehbaz]

The “death map” tells the story of decades of sickness in the small northwest New Mexico communities of Murray Acres and Broadview Acres. Turquoise arrows point to homes where residents had thyroid disease, dark blue arrows mark cases of breast cancer, and yellow arrows mean cancer claimed a life. 

Neighbors built the map a decade ago after watching relatives and friends fall ill and die.

Dominating the top right corner of the map, less than half a mile from the cluster of colorful arrows [...] : 22.2 million tons of uranium waste left over from milling ore to supply power plants and nuclear bombs. “We were sacrificed a long time ago,” said Candace Head-Dylla, who created the death map with her mother after Head-Dylla had her thyroid removed and her mother developed breast cancer. [...]

Beginning in 1958, a uranium mill owned by Homestake Mining Company of California processed and refined ore mined nearby. The waste it left behind leaked uranium and selenium into groundwater and released the cancer-causing gas radon into the air.

State and federal regulators knew the mill was polluting groundwater almost immediately after it started operating, but years passed before they informed residents and demanded fixes. [...]

---

Uranium mining and milling left a trail of contamination and suffering, from miners who died of lung cancer while the federal government kept the risks secret to the largest radioactive spill in the country’s history. But for four decades, the management of more than 250 million tons of radioactive uranium mill waste has been largely overlooked, continuing to pose a public health threat. [...] At Homestake, which was among the largest mills, the company is bulldozing a community in order to walk away. Interviews with dozens of residents, along with radon testing and thousands of pages of company and government records, reveal a community sacrificed to build the nation's nuclear arsenal and atomic energy industry. [...]

In 2014, an EPA report confirmed the site posed an unacceptable cancer risk and identified radon as the greatest threat to residents’ health. Still, the cleanup target date continued shifting, to 2017, then 2022. Rather than finish the cleanup, Homestake’s current owner, the Toronto-based mining giant Barrick Gold, is now preparing to ask the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, the independent federal agency that oversees the cleanup of uranium mills, for permission to demolish its groundwater treatment systems and hand the site and remaining waste over to the U.S. Department of Energy to monitor and maintain forever. Before it can transfer the site to the Department of Energy, Homestake must prove that the contamination, which exceeds federal safety levels, won’t pose a risk to nearby residents [...].

Part of Homestake’s strategy: buy out nearby residents and demolish their homes. [...] Property records reveal the company had, by the end of 2021, purchased 574 parcels covering 14,425 acres around the mill site. This April, Homestake staff indicated they had 123 properties left to buy. One resident said the area was quickly becoming a “ghost town.”

---

Even after the community is gone, more than 15,000 people who live nearby, many of them Indigenous, will continue to rely on water threatened by Homestake’s pollution. [...]

At the state level, New Mexico regulators waited until 2009, 49 years after first finding water pollution, to issue a formal warning that groundwater included substances that cause cancer and birth defects. [...] Other uranium mines and mills polluted the area’s main drinking water aquifer upstream of Homestake. [...]

More than 500 abandoned uranium mines pockmark the Navajo Nation [...].

Leaders of communities downstream from Homestake, including the Pueblo of Acoma, fear that wishful thinking could allow pollution from the waste to taint their water. The Acoma reservation, about 20 miles from Homestake’s tailings, has been continuously inhabited since before 1200. Its residents use groundwater for drinking and surface water for irrigating alfalfa and corn, but Donna Martinez, program coordinator for the pueblo’s Environment Department, said the pueblo government can’t afford to do as much air and water monitoring as staff would like. [...]

Most days, Billiman contemplates this “poison” and whether she and Boomer might move away from it [...]. “Then, we just say ‘hózho náhásdlii, hózho náhásdlii’ four times.” “All will be beautiful again,” Boomer roughly translated. [...] Now, as a registered nurse tending to former uranium miners, Langford knows too much about the dangers. When it’s inhaled, radon breaks down in the lungs, releasing bursts of radiation that can damage tissue and cause cancer. Her patients have respiratory issues as well as lung cancer. They lose their breath simply lifting themselves out of a chair.

---

Text by Mark Olalde and Maya Miller. “A Uranium Ghost Town in the Making.” ProPublica. 8 August 2022. [Some paragraph breaks and contractions added by me.]

[mariacallous]

Humans have long sullied the Arctic with industrial development—mining operations, oil and gas exploration, military bases. That’s contaminated the landscape with a bevy of toxicants, including radiological material, heavy metals, insecticides, and fuels. That nastiness was often intentionally buried in frozen ground known as permafrost. In theory, as long as that ground remained frozen, the pollutants would stay locked away.

No longer. An alarming new paper in the journal Nature Communications estimates that between 13,000 and 20,000 contaminated sites are splayed across Arctic permafrost regions, with 3,500 to 5,200 in areas that’ll be affected by thawing soils before the end of the century. The region is already warming rapidly, more than four times faster than the rest of the planet. And that estimated number of sites is likely low, the scientists warn, because thaw might dramatically accelerate in some places. 

As permafrost degrades, it collapses, releasing buried contaminants that flow out in the melted ice. The ground sinks—often spectacularly and rapidly—dragging down aboveground infrastructure like fuel tanks and pipelines. Indeed, that was the suspected cause of a 2020 environmental disaster in Norilsk, Russia, in which 17,000 tons of oil leaked from a collapsed tank.

“The assumption is that permafrost is a hydrological barrier, and it will remain there forever,” says permafrost researcher Moritz Langer, of the Alfred Wegener Institute and Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, lead author of the new paper. “That was the assumption for all of these very old sites—especially from the ‘70s, ‘80s, up until the ‘90s—when climate warming and the problem of permafrost thaw was not really on the radar of most people.”

Langer and his colleagues found that 70 percent of these sites are in Russia, with others across Alaska, Canada, and Greenland. Some facilities are abandoned and difficult to access and clean up. Others are still operational, and producing yet more toxicants to leak into the environment. (The new paper doesn’t distinguish, though, exactly which sites are which.) As the Arctic warms, expect industrial and military development to creep farther north, adding more contaminants while putting more people in contact with them. And the mushier the soil gets, the harder it will be to use heavy equipment to clean up the messes.

“This idea that somehow we have, functionally, a number of potential Superfund sites that were completely unknown until this paper, but could be mobilizing into the Arctic and potentially international environment, is pretty terrifying,” says Kimberley R. Miner, a climate scientist who studies permafrost contamination at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory but wasn’t involved in the new paper. “To see them take that idea and apply it to actual maps and get actual sites, with permafrost disturbance underneath, was so mind-blowing to me.”

Existing sites are already plagued by a slew of environmental troubles. Oil leaks come from both wells and from pipelines. Radioactive material is buried around military bases. Pesticides like DDT are packed in barrels, then buried. Mining operations are notorious for emitting heavy metals like mercury; other sites are full of arsenic, lead, and other highly toxic elements and compounds. Trucks and heavy machinery carry liquid fuels like diesel, which are prone to spill. 

Once the ground is no longer frozen enough to form a barrier, those contaminants will seep into rivers and ponds, corrupting highly sensitive ecosystems. “This, we think, could also be a dangerous situation for people living up in the high north,” says Langer, as the contaminants mix with drinking water.

That water will eventually empty into the ocean and ride elsewhere on currents. Toxicants can also get airborne: Indeed, the Arctic is already dusted with lead from burning leaded gasoline. Mercury, too, could escape mining operations by taking to water and air. “Mercury that came from the burning of coal and fossil fuels from a century or two centuries ago is still cycling through our biosphere,” says Kevin Schaefer, a climate scientist at the University of Colorado, Boulder, who studies permafrost contaminants but wasn’t involved in the new paper.

Human activity in the Arctic only exacerbates the thaw. Dark-colored roads absorb the sun’s energy, heating the soil. Digging up dirt and tossing it on top of snow darkens the whiteness that would normally bounce light off the landscape. Vehicle tires chew up the soil. “You already have rapidly changing environmental conditions,” says George Washington University climate scientist Dmitry Streletskiy, who studies permafrost but wasn’t involved in the new paper. “But then, of course, on top of those rapid changes, you have concentrated human presence—you have industry and infrastructure. So those are really focal points, where you in many ways amplify those changes associated with climate."

Oh, and the giant new Willow drilling project in Alaska that the Biden administration just approved? That’ll be on permafrost too. “Think about what it takes to establish a pipeline,” says Miner. “You're going to need a road. You're going to have people walking in and out, trampling the permafrost. All of that is going to lead to increased thaw and increased potential for contamination and disturbances to the very fragile tundra landscape. So it's just impacts upon impacts upon impacts.”

This new paper only considered gradual permafrost thaw. But permafrost can collapse much more rapidly, digging holes known as thermokarst. As ice becomes liquid water, it loses volume, forming a crater in which microbes produce the highly potent greenhouse gas methane. This further warms the atmosphere and accelerates permafrost thaw—a gnarly climatic feedback loop.

Adding yet more peril is that as the Arctic warms, wildfires are proliferating. If one sweeps through a contaminated site, it’ll send up plumes of toxicant-laden smoke. That will in turn exacerbate the thaw: Scientists have previously calculated that in north Alaska, thermokarst formation has accelerated by 60 percent since 1950, thanks to wildfires.

In other words, Langer says, their paper’s projection is “pretty conservative.” Some of the sites might thaw even earlier.

Permafrost is already deforming communities in the far north. Airport runways are sinking, roads are wrinkling, and buildings are crumbling. “It's no longer some ambiguous thing that might happen in the future—it's happening today, even as we speak,” says Schaefer. “If this infrastructure becomes damaged because of thawing permafrost, it's extremely expensive and extremely difficult to resolve. These areas are very remote. You can only do things in certain times of the year, mainly the summer.” 

If thermokarst opens a hole in your runway, for instance, it might cut off surrounding communities that rely on supplies brought in by plane. And if you can’t fly, you can’t get out of many places around the Arctic. “It's not like the Lower 48—if I don't make it to Denver, I'll fly to Colorado Springs,” says Schaefer. “These are all really key infrastructure, and it's really difficult to build and maintain.”

But this new paper is at least a step toward localizing the problem, directing governments to where cleanup might be required. Early scientific sleuthing like this is a start, but a fix will take putting a lot of boots on increasingly soggy ground. “In order to manage something, you have to measure it,” says Miner. The next step would take a massive push—one like the US Environmental Protection Agency began in the 1980s to clean up Superfund sites. But with such a patchwork of nations and corporations responsible for the mess, it’s not clear when—or if—that work would start.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Bond Between Us ~ 16

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,810ish

Summary: It all goes wrong before you are able to leave Naboo.

Warnings: a virus, death

Notes: The next chapter is going to be my favorite so far, but this definitely has some good parts. Also, I have a post that contains the ages of characters throughout this series. Check it out here.

“Okay, troopers, let’s spread out and start to clean up,” you ordered. “Be careful, we don’t know if anything else down here is poisonous.”

You left the group and began doing your own sweep of the area. You hadn’t been gone long when an alarm, signaling a virus leak, had gone off. You started running for the safe room. You got there just as Ahsoka, Rex, and a group of clones did.

“Hurry! The doors are closing!” Rex shouted.

“Don’t worry,” you said. You held your arms up and used the Force to keep the doors open. “Get inside, Rex.” He and the other clones obeyed as the virus came rushing up behind you. “You to Ahsoka!” She jumped through the gap you were holding between the doors.

“Get in here, Y/N!” Ahsoka yelled after you.

You ran, letting go of the doors and barely making it through them. Obi-Wan’s voice quickly sounded from your comlink as Anakin’s did on Ahsoka’s.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” He asked, worry seeping into your bond. “What’s going on down there?”

“The virus was released but we managed to seal the lab,” you explained. “The remaining droids are going to try and break out. We have to stop them.”

“Do not leave that room, Y/N! It’s too dangerous.”

“I will do what I must to save our people and this planet, Obi-Wan. This virus cannot escape.”

There was the Council’s Chosen One speaking and Obi-Wan hated it. He sighed, hearing Padme tell Anakin the same thing you told him.

“Be safe,” he relented.

“Aren’t I always?” You responded teasingly, trying so bad to ease the worry from Obi-Wan. “You be careful as well.” 

You ended the transmission and looked around the room. One of the clones was at a control center along the wall, trying to do something. As you continued to study the area, you noticed a small larger of smoke. You knew then that the virus had made it into the room.

“Oh, no, no, no!” The clone near the screen exclaimed. “Some of the virus got in here. We didn’t close the door fast enough.”

“We may be dead mean, but we could still stop those droids,” Rex stated.

“Don’t worry,” Ahsoka said. “My Master will find a cure for this virus. We’re not dead yet.”

“Is anyone out there?” Padme’s voice filled the comlink. “Can anyone hear—“

“Padme,” you interrupted, answering her call. “We’re trapped in the safe room at the end of complex B.”

“We’ll be right there. Are you contaminated?”

Suddenly two of the clones began coughing. You sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

~~~

Obi-Wan needed to keep his composure and not react as Anakin was. He had to keep telling Anakin that you, Ahsoka, and Padme would be fine, but he was saying it mainly to convince himself. Captain Typho informed the Jedi of a root that may hold the answer to a cure. Obi-Wan and Anakin believed that they needed to go and immediately get it. They were currently on their way to the planet now.

As Anakin did a majority of the piloting, Obi-Wan tried to center himself. He feared that the longer it took them to get the root back to Naboo, the more likely he would lose his temper. You were strong, that was certain, but not strong enough to protect yourself and everyone else down there from a virus. He knew that if someone was going to be the first to fall down there, it would be you and it would be because you sacrificed yourself for the sake of everyone else. Obi-Wan couldn’t let that happen. Living without you wasn’t an option, not anymore. 

It was strange, these growing feelings towards you screamed that he was breaking the Jedi Code. But they also felt completely natural, like they were meant to be. Obi-Wan realized that he had let his thoughts wander too much and quickly forced himself to concentrate. If he didn’t focus on calming Anakin and getting the root back to Naboo, his feelings for you wouldn’t matter because you would be no more.

~~~

“Padme,” you said over the comms, “where are you?”

“We’re right outside your safety room,” she informed you.

You looked around again, noticing the clones coughing more. “Can you get the door open?”

“Be ready.”

The door opened, revealing Jar-Jar and Padme in protective safety gear. You wished that you could have those suits for your clones and Ahsoka. They didn’t deserve to go down like this.

“I am sorry, Y/N,” Padme said, coming up to you as the doors closed behind her.

“Don’t worry about us, Senator,” you said, gaining your wits. “We still have a job to do.”

“There aren’t very many droids left. We saw some heading toward the south entrance.”

“As long as we’re able, we’ll help you destroy those droids before they breach the compound.” 

Rex handed Padme a blaster as she spoke. “You take the north corridor, and we’ll take the south.”

You opened the safety room doors and broke off into your respective groups. You ran down the hallways through the midst of virus, taking out the few droids in your path, as you headed toward the intersection that would allow you to meet up with Padme’s group. You stopped just before the intersection, seeing a group of droids trying to break out. Cutting and shooting the droids down, yours and Padme’s group met in the midst of the fallen droids. You looked up in the tunnel, seeing one last droid.

“Stop!” Rex ordered, aiming at the droid with Padme.

“Don’t open that hatch!” Padme added.

“Ha! Too late!” The droid exclaimed. Rex and Padme began firing, bringing the droid to the ground in pieces.

“There’s going to be more droids trying to break out,” you said. “We need to keep going.”

You led the group, running, down a hallway. It wasn’t long before you ran into those blasted rolling-shield droids. They immediately began firing at you. You and Ahsoka sped forward, each jumping onto one of the droids. You too focused on shutting down the droid to fully understand the commotion that was happening with Jar-Jar and Padme. Once the droids were down, you looked up to see Padme and Jar-Jar on the ground. You could hear Padme’s lose oxygen from here.

“No,” you breathed out.

“Senator!” Ahsoka rushed toward Padme.

“Senator, your suit’s been compromised,” Rex stated.

“I am so sorry.”

Padme took off her helmet. “Don’t blame yourself,” she told Ahsoka. “These things tend to happen in a war zone.”

“Anakin will never forgive me if I let anything happen to you,” you said as you came up to the group. “We might need to find another safe room.”

“But there’s probably another group of droids out there,” Ahsoka argued.

You sighed, sensing she was right. “Then we must go quickly.”

You led the group again, using the Force to guide you to another hatch that a set of droids was trying to break out from.

“There they are!” Ahsoka said as she raced forward with her lightsaber ignited. She quickly, using the Force and her saber, took out the two droids. She leaned forward with a heavy groan, on the ladder.

“Ahsoka!” Padme exclaimed, quickly coming to her side.

“I”m alright.”

You noticed the purple rings under Ahsoka’s eyes as well as the veins on her face beginning to show the effects of the virus. You suspected that your face probably looked similar as you noticed Padme’s matching. You needed to get them someplace safer. As you turned around, you lost your footing, suddenly feeling weak. Rex quickly caught you before you fell.

“Are you alright, General?” He asked.

“I’m not sure,” you responded. “We need to send a transmission to Anakin’s ship.”

Ahsoka handed you her handheld communicator and you set it up on the ladder. You, Ahsoka, and Padme stood in front of it.

“Anakin, Obi-Wan,” you called, “can you hear me?” 

Anakin and Obi-Wan’s forms appeared. They were sitting down in their ship. But the transmission was weak, making you unable to communicate back and forth. Ahsoka’s body slightly gave out, causing Padme to hold onto her.

“We destroyed all the battle droids inside the compound,” you said, starting to struggle with breathing. You focused on Obi-Wan’s figure as you spoke. “Naboo is safe from further contamination.” You broke out into a coughing fit. “I repeat… Naboo is safe.” Your knees gave out and Rex quickly caught you again.

“Promise me that no one will ever open this bunker,” Padme pled with Anakin. “Goodbye, Anakin. I—“ The transmission cut off as Padme began coughing.

~~~

Obi-Wan’s eyes kept running over your hologram form. The virus was clearly affecting you, yet you kept trying to hold strong. The moment he saw Rex catch you from collapsing, Obi-Wan inhaled sharply. He tried to reach out with his signature, but he was too far and you were too weak. He and Anakin needed to hurry off this planet and fast before it was too late.

~~~

You led the group to an open lab area, Everyone spread out and sat down, coughing. As you sat down, you felt the Force signature of one of the clones disappear.

“No,” you gasped. Getting up, you wearily found the clone and fell to your knees beside him. You placed your hand on his chest and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry…”

As Padme tried to help another clone, she noticed you. “What a waste,” she said.

“With all due respect, Senator,” Rex said with a sigh, “it’s what these men were born to do.”

“It doesn’t make it right,” you whispered.

“I hope that their sacrifice brings us closer to peace,” Padme said. You stood up and allowed Rex to cover the clone.

“It will, Padme,” Ahsoka said through her coughs. “You must believe that—“

“Ahsoka!” You and Padme shouted as Ahsoka collapsed, unconscious. Rex was able to catch her first.

“Everyone around me, now,” you ordered. “I have an idea. It will only give us a little more time, but it’s better than nothing.”

“What are you planning on doing, General?” Rex asked, still holding Ahsoka.

“I’m going to use the Force to push away the gas. It may take all the strength I have but I—“

“No! You could die,” Padme argued.

“It is better that I die than all of us.” You set a hand on Padme’s shoulder. “I will be okay, Padme. Trust me. Now, everyone, sit down around me.” 

They did as you told them. You sat down in the center, crossing your legs. You coughed as you closed your eyes and began meditating in the Force. The Force pushed the virus back against the walls. As you kept the virus away, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hold back for very long. Your strength was dwindling and fast.

“Obi-Wan…” you called out in the Force, trying to disparately reach him. “Obi...”

“Hang on, little star,” his voice called back. “We’re on our way back with the root…”

“I’m sorry… for everything… please know that I… I tried… And that I… I…”

You didn’t get to finish your thought as you got swept away into the darkness.

~~~

Obi-Wan was just as anxious as Anakin was as they waited for the medical droids to extract you, Ahsoka, Padme, and the others. He had to play it off that he wasn’t though, as he couldn’t show that he had a great attachment to you. No, no, not attachment. As he and Anakin sped through space to get back to Naboo after he had lost contact with you, he realized that what he held for you was much more than a simple attachment. It was love. It was already bad enough that he had broken the Code by forming the attachment, he had gone and fallen in love with you.

As the droids exited the lab, with you and your group on stretchers, Anakin immediately ran to Padme’s side as Obi-Wan raced to yours. You were completely unconscious. Obi-Wan wrapped his signature around your weak one, pulling at it to stay with him.

“What happened down there?” He asked, mostly to himself as he took one of your hands in his.

Rex heard Obi-Wan as he was taken by. “General L/N used the Force to push away the virus,” Rex responded. “It’s probably the only reason the rest of us made it.”

Obi-Wan pressed out a smile. “Of course.” Not caring who saw at the moment, he kissed your gloved hand. “I will be with you once I’ve finished here, my dear.” 

As the medical droid began taking you to the ship again, Obi-Wan stood and let his hand slowly part from yours. Unbeknownst to him, as Ahsoka spoke with Anakin, Padme saw the whole interaction. She had a slight suspicion that you and Obi-Wan were forming feelings for each other, this was just proof of that. As she slipped into a sleepy state, she promised herself to pull you aside and talk to you about it.

~~~

Obi-Wan had to clench his fists when he arrived on the star cruiser after the clean-up and had been told that you had been transferred to your own cruiser. He had asked if this was your request, but he was told that you were still unconscious.

“Her cruiser is nearby,” Padme stated, her voice still weak. “If you hurry, you can catch it.”

“I—I don’t—“ Obi-Wan stammered. “I—“

“Go.”

Looking at Padme, Obi-Wan knew that she had somehow figured out his feelings for you. All he could get himself to do in response to her persistence was nod and hurry out of the room. He raced through the halls of the star cruiser, not caring who saw him. Once he arrived in the hangar, he jumped into his starfighter and was quickly out of there. Padme had been right, your cruiser was very close and Obi-Wan was so thankful for that. A curious Commander Crak met the General in the hangar, after noticing the General’s starfighter.

“General Kenobi,” Crak greeted. “What can we do for you?”

Obi-Wan hopped out of his starfighter. “I was told General L/N was brought here,” he said. “Is that right?”

“Yes. The General is in the medical wing. I can lead you there.”

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan followed Crak. “Do you know if she’s woken up?”

“I do not. When she arrived, they had an oxygen mask over her face.” Obi-Wan nodded. “If I know the General enough, and I believe I do sir, she will push through and be fine.”

“Yes, I simply came to check on her for the Jedi Council.” The two arrived outside of the medical wing. “Thank you for escorting me but I believe that I can handle it from here.”

“Of course, sir. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you or General L/N.” 

Crak bowed slightly before he walked off. Obi-Wan breathed deeply as he faced the door. Stepping forward, the sliding doors opened for him. His eyes immediately found your form lying on one of the beds as a medical droid worked over you. Your eyes were closed, making you look so peaceful. As he furthered himself into the room, Obi-Wan felt your signature wash over him. It danced with his, almost like you were happy he was here. Your head turned toward him before your eyes opened.

“Obi,” you breathed out.

“Hello, little star,” he said with a smile as he came up to your bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but happy to be alive.”

“I’m glad to see you alive…” Obi-Wan had no control over his hand as his fingers took hold of a few of yours, “you had me extremely worried.”

Your fingers clung onto Obi-Wan’s. “I know, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t apologize for doing your job. Rex told me what you did down there. That could have killed you.”

“I did what I had to. Is everyone else okay?”

“Thanks to you.” He could feel how tired you were and how your body longed to rest. “You need your sleep.”

“Will you stay?”

Obi-Wan could never say no when you asked that question. It meant you wanted him there, even if he believed it wasn’t as much as he wanted to be there.

“Of course,” he replied. He used the Force to pull a chair over and sat down. He let go of your fingers and changed so that he was holding your hand instead. “I’ll be right here.”

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

#obi wan x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi imagines #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi-wan kenobi x y/n #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan x you #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x y/n #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #Star Wars x reader

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Superhero Stranger Things AU (1)

Sooo. A superhero Stranger Things AU (Steddie will be included in next posts, yeah, sue me). But nothing Spider-man-esque or in a large city. Just a small town trying to contain its villains, heroes and unchecked superpowers. Hear me out. I have way too many ideas but I need to sleep, so I will be splitting this into parts. 

The toxic spill from the Hawkins lab is real, there was an experimental substance involved and all effects are not fully explored. Sure, the resident lab rat/kid, subject Eleven, seems to develop powers of telekinesis, but a single result is hardly conclusive. Except then Eleven accidentally damages one of the liquid containers, causes the leak and runs away while Papa and his science buddies try to contain it. And guess who are the two people who happen to live nearby and suddenly start feeling different after taking a stroll in the woods. Yep, Will Byers and Steve Harrington.  

Will develops a weird connection to the spilled chemical, the more it spreads, the more he feels what is happening in the town. When someone steps on a contaminated area, he shudders and feels like ants are walking on his skin. He has no clue what's going on, but suddenly he just knows that his mom is driving home and what route she is taking, he knows that Jonathan is staring at Nancy Wheeler in school like she was the newest model of a camera and he's very quietly freaking out because he doesn't want to know all of this. He knows that Lucas has a crush on the new girl in their class with ginger hair and he knows that Dustin found a weirdly colored lizard and named him after nougat and he just wants some peace and quiet to draw, but it's just so loud in his head! 

Steve, the King of Hawkins High, develops the gift of disastrous precognition. More like a curse, because where his main concern used to be how to get around his dad's demands and how to be on the top of the high school social ladder, he now has responsibilities (Steve Harrington Trademark). He sees a random kid from middle school, carrying something small in his palm, and suddenly there are huge red letters flashing in his head, screaming DANGER. He catches up with the kid - Dustin Henderson - and with very poorly hidden panic, persuades Dustin to show his discovery to the science teacher. Lo and behold, the small lizard may be cute, but its color is caused by some strange goo sticking to its skin, scales or whatever and it should definitely be examined before being handled barehanded. A bit too late for that. The warning signs now go off nonstop in Steve's head and he goes from Mr. Popular to Mr. What-the-fuck-are-you-doing-wait-for-that-green-light-little-shithead in a few weeks. 

Steve meets the Party when he sees them heading to the woods and the radar in his head nearly explodes. He asks them where they're going and they very unwillingly inform him they're off to the junkyard to play. He tries to stop them, comes off as an absolute lunatic, but the smallest boy looks very nervous and tries to get the others listen to Steve, in vain.  Of course these brats would rather pull their teeth out than listen to an (almost) adult. So Steve just swallows several choice words, grabs a baseball bat from his trunk ("for practice, not to beat up people! I swear to god, Wheeler, you little shit, it's not like that-!") and follows the kids, just to keep an eye on them because he can't relax anyway. When the small boy (Will Byers, Steve learns) shudders and suddenly announces there is a black bear nearby, others don't believe him, but Steve's danger radar is going off and he drags the kids to the abandoned bus, barricades them inside and watches over them until he is sure it is safe to come out. He and Will don't talk then, but they share a few meaningful looks. And when Will says it's fine to leave the bus now, Steve immediately accepts it as a fact. 

The rest of the party is not fully sure what happened, but Dustin's eyes sparkle when he looks at Steve now. And Steve starts liking the boy too because hey, he saved his health/life or whatever two times already and the kid is really smart, even though too cheeky for his own good. So when Dustin and Will pound on his door two days later, explaining (too quickly and in a very confusing way) that there was probably something wrong with Dart ("the lizard, pay attention, Steve!") and that Dustin is gradually becoming something akin to a human radio, hearing various frequencies in his head and being able to flip through them at will, Steve just sighs and lets them in because sure, a human radio? That's new, but not surprising. 

(Dustin also tries to give them superhero names when they share that they might have some powers, but Steve vehemently objects to Danger-man and Will just says "no" to Sludge Boy, so the jury is still out on that one)

#stranger things #strangerthings #stranger things drabble #strangerthingsdrabble #stranger things au #strangerthingsau #steve harrington #will byers #dustin henderson

[zaynes-ocs]

Heheheheeh *posts more blurbs from my notes doc about the project*

Warning for graphic talks of gross shit like sickness and bodily fluids and stuff (ask to tag)

Stages of the plague:

1. Itchy rash begins to appear on skin from contact area. Plague can be transmitted through blood vire scratches or through bodily fluids like spit, piss, pus or puke

2. Rash begins to bubble beneath the skin into blisters and pustules that are dry and have the risk of popping, spreading the disease further

3. Coughing begins as rash spreads even further. By this stage sleep is difficult and dehydration is common

4. Blood starts to appear in vomit and in pustules. The iron tang is common in phlegm from the lungs being rubbed raw from coughing. Pneumonia develops in lungs and pain levels increase significantly.

5. Dizzy spells and fainting are common. Most are bedridden by this stage and blood is in almost all bodily fluids and early rigor mortis starts to set in as the body begins to decay from the inside out.

6. Blood leaks from the eyes and other orifices as the membrane of blood vessels thins and pops easily, slow and agonzing death is soon to follow

7. Body leaks pus and other fluids, considered highly contagious and must be burned, though they have the tendency to rubture and burst, contaminating anything they come in contact with which also must be burned to prevent the spread

#oc story #original story #worldbuilding #personal worldbuilding #ask to tag #cw illness #cw sickness #cw deadly disease #tw deadly disease #tw description of illness #cw description of illness #cw vomiting #tw vomiting #tw blood #cw blood #brainstorming #anyways. this would probably give away what the project is tho those who know

[commonguttersnipe]

Baggy Trousers Down Python Road: Chapter Five- If I Said You Had A Beautiful Body, Would You Hold It Against Me?

Warnings: Swearing, internalised homophobia and things get a bit spicy at the end (ooh!)

Strings of pink and red were scattered over the school hall; the curtains drawn and the lights as bright as they could be without turning on the floods. Valentine’s Day had arrived at MacNaughton’s and much like every other holiday, it would be celebrated as prudishly as possible. The students arrived in their bundles, their voices bouncing off the walls like hoards of bumblebees. The faculty stood ready and waiting to stop any lip-locking or necking that would inevitably occur.

~

It started with the spiked punch. Once weak and watery, it had been contaminated with the cheapest liquor Bert Nudge could find. It went undetected for around 20 minutes until the year 8s started dropping like flies. Miss Weston was the first on the scene, tending to the bruised head of Reg, who was still drinking the potentially lethal liquid.

Judith sat with Brian outside the hall, raising a half-full bottle of water to his lips, encouraging him to sip. Brian had taken a good swig of the stuff and was now clutching his stomach in very well-hidden agony.

“You silly sod…” Her soft Welsh accent acted as a plaster to Brian’s troubled tummy “What on Earth did you do that for?”

“I didn’t know it was spiked!” Brian whinged, as the punch bowl was hurriedly carried out of the room by a panicked-looking Mr Palin.

“I’d hate it if something horrible happened to you…” She pats his head, becoming increasingly aware of the leaking water seeping into her sparkly dress. That didn’t matter. All that her world currently revolved around was Brian, who was resting against her shoulder. “I love you too much for something horrible to happen to you” The sentence dripped out like drool, prompting a messy reaction.

It didn’t receive one though.

In fact, it was met with no words at all. Just a gentle kiss on the shoulder was all it took to tell her that it was very much appreciated. It was perhaps for the best that she didn’t tongue Brian’s vomit-lined mouth. She mentally snapped her fingers and dug the minty gum deeper into her pocket.

~

Far across the floor, Miss Weston and Mr Gilliam were whispering about their suspicions. The redhead had her notebook out, evidently overjoyed her Agatha Christie phase when she was fourteen was finally going to pay off, while the long-haired man was intent on condemning the entirety of the Year 7s (no one was going to object, everyone despised the naïve little assholes). After an almost thorough list of attendees had been scrutinized, the pair had their leads… everyone.

What had started as a quiet investigation had become a bloody McCarthy trial, a Watney’s red scare if you will. No one was safe. Fergus McTeagle was intimidated by Byron, Rita Fayworth was frightened with Brigadoon as the school’s end-of-year musical and little Gale A’ Had burst into tears after being threatened with an invitation to the girl’s tennis match (the mere mention of the short skirts gave him a nosebleed).

Despite their drilling, it seemed to be all for nought. No one confessed. They considered recruiting Elliot Ximenez to help with their inquiries but he was on the other end of some rather sinful fellatio from Jean Sydney on the tennis courts. Providing it wasn’t in front of the younger years, Mr Gilliam let it slide.

Halfway through the dance, Miss Weston sat on the foyer stairs, her notebook covered in inexplicable scribbles and conspiracies.

“How difficult can it be? One of those little bastards did it” Mr Gilliam sighed.

Mr Idle came waltzing through, licking off the sugar on his fingers from leftover, stale doughnuts. He looked at the pair in smug amusement.

“What are you two gits looking so miserable about?” He asked with his signature rat-like grin.

“We’ve been looking for the punch culprit. You have been paying attention right? Or have you been ignoring the bunch of sick kiddos to stuff your face?” Mr Gilliam looked down at his investigation partner. She looked rather pretty when she was one step away from strangling the next human being she came into contact with.

Fighting back to ignore his colleague’s atrocious grammar, the long-haired music teacher scoffed.

“It was Nudge”

The couple looked up.

Of course, it was.

“Drank half of the slop, then puked on John” He smirked when mentioning his co-worker’s unfortunate accident.

“Admitted mid-barf”

Miss Weston looked at her list again, finding Bert’s name right at the top.

Hidden in plain fucking sight.

Mr Idle shrugged and left them, probably to see if there were any leftover pastries to gobble.

The duo sat there, the muted screams and surf-rock becoming the backing music for their failure. Brown eyes met green as they took the courage to look at each other.

“So… I have some coffee in my apartment and-”

“Sounds good.” Miss Weston nodded. Dates that came from humiliation would be the cherry on top of a pathetic evening, but honestly, if it meant that something could bloom from a disaster, she’d take that chance. All art started like that, after all.

Halfway to his boarding, it came to Miss Weston’s attention that she’d actually been neglecting the punch’s victims during their disorganized investigation. Miss Gullet had it under control… surely?

~

She did. Surrounded by paper towels and the vile stench of sandwich spread, she and Mr Palin had become the accidental heroes of the night.

Much like their relationship, she’d taken control, directing the students in her efficient pop-up hospital amongst the skipping ropes and gym mats.

Mr Palin looked upon his wife with an infatuated gaze. Sure, she saw him as an idiot, but he was her idiot, and no finer title could have been bestowed upon him. Knighthoods paled in comparison.

Taking her maiden name was necessary for work, but the lovers were so obviously married from day one, that she almost got fired on her first day. A Shakespearean ramble from Palin, got her to stay and ever since then, the power couple had become McNaughton’s official moral support.

Pupils had become so used to their Geography teacher writing on the blackboard while also feeding his baby son mashed peas, the infant had become almost a mascot for the department.

Nevertheless, seeing her here, the gentle lighting caressing her face like his fingers made him feel like he was 16 again. The shy church boy meeting the tall, cheeky girl of his dreams on some beach that felt like continents away from Sheffield.

He’d say that it was times like this, but this was every day for him. So inevitably tangled in the roots of devotion, any action she did felt like a kiss after being parted for months.

Intertwined in love’s desperate grasp with her, felt like the Eden he’d been promised as a child.

“Michael?” She swept her fringe from her eyes “Would you be a darling and pass that tissue?”

He complied. After all, he was her darling.

~

Tommy didn’t like dancing. It was poofy and he was no poof.

Mary always assumed he didn’t like dancing because he was one.

Standing on the rim of the dancefloor, as if he were to be consumed by effeminate waves, the serious boy watched his girlfriend spin with Jocasta, laughing loudly and squealing louder. Mary was a pretty girl, everyone thought so… except for Tommy.

Homosexuality crossed his mind often. Sweaty, half-naked Rock Hudson plagued his consciousness the first time he’d kissed Mary, though that may have been the residue from a late-night watch of Send Me No Flowers. It had to be. He wanted it to be.

“Come on Tommy! Daniel says they’re playing Windy next!”

He shakes his head. A look of disappointment crossed her face before being brushed away with a rogue curl. She appeared purple in the blue lighting. Lavender, even.

Lavender. As in a gay man.

Tommy felt non-existent sweat drip down his forehead as his world became lavender, glowing with anger like an inculpatory finger.

Mary’s world was in shades of neon, everything shining with the veracity that there was always tomorrow. The only grey was Tommy. However, she knew he needed her to feel normal.

If her heart had its way, she’d encourage him to be happy with himself, but her head reasoned that coming to terms with himself would slowly destroy him and what he thought he’d worked for.

Being in Daniel’s arms felt right. Warm with the ease of accepting his masculinity, it was the fire her heart had hoped Tommy would light. By the way, her boyfriend was looking at her, he seemed nonchalant about her dancing with another boy… and that made her feel sick with guilt. Daniel nuzzled his head into her neck, his soft nips earning gentle whines.

Tommy’s world was now turning blue.

Stormy blue.

~

Ernie couldn’t believe what Jim just said.

“But she’s your girl! I- I-”

“Yeah, and you're one minute away from your cock shrivelling into a raisin” Jim blew out his smoke into the cold air. “You know I’m not a jealous man”

“But coupling with your girlfriend-”

“Fucking. Use fucking, for fuck’s sake” Jim looked over at his friend. Ernie’s face had turned the shade of Aggie’s lipstick, which she was currently reapplying.

“Really, I’m happy to!” She confirmed her consent, smiling sweetly at him.

Jim stamped out his cigarette and groaned.

“Look. You’re my best friend Ernie and I’m not allowing you to be a virgin for the rest of the school year. You’re not saving for marriage and honestly, if Elliot can get pussy, so can you”.

Ernie scrunched his nose at his friend’s crudeness but couldn’t deny his desperation to be taken. One thing his friend didn’t know was that he loved Aggie. Surely he couldn’t be pity-fucked by a girl he loved. Then again…

Aggie had decided the shrubbery near the football pitch was an appropriate location, it not being under the cheery supervision of Mr Jones. Ernie felt his t-shirt stick to his chest as they made their way over to the foliage.

Noticing it had recently rained, she opted for the protection of a tree, pressing her back against the rough bark. Ernie licked his lips awkwardly.

“I- I don’t know what to do” He admitted.

Aggie smiled sympathetically.

“You do want this, right?”

“Yes. God please-” He blurted eagerly, making her laugh. Good. He liked it when she laughed.

“Why don’t you unbutton my shirt?”

Guiding his trembling hands to her cold blouse, she helped him with each pesky button, slowly revealing her goose-pimpled skin. Eventually, her plain white cotton bra came into view, her cleavage being teased through the thick fabric. Overwhelmed, Ernie leaned forward, pressing neat kisses against her neck, timidly cupping her chest with one hand.

“You needn’t be so polite” Her voice almost begged, secretly aching for him to make her forget her own name.

“I don’t want to hurt you”

“Don’t worry, I’ll say if you do” They looked into each other’s eyes, the consent and understanding feeling somehow erotic.

He nodded.

She closed her eyes as he unclipped her bra, sucking on the swell of her breast, grunts of pure worship rippling against her skin. Hungrily, he pushed up her skirt, squeezing her plump thighs as she almost feverishly unzipped his trousers.

“Ernie?” She whimpered, gazing up at the cloudless sky above them.

“Yes?” He moaned, his fingers skimming over her soaked panties as he buried his face in her bosom.

“Fuck me like the world is ending tomorrow”

He smirked. In a way it was, but then again, his world was clinging to him, wanting him to love her. The apocalypse could happen tomorrow but it wouldn’t matter.

Tonight happened.

#monty python #monty python fanfiction

[blackbeauty15]

cold,warm

chapter :1

Quick note ; hiii guys this is my first fanfic i hope you enjoy. the reader will be described as plus sized, African American and she will be somewhat on the tall side. you can change it thats just how i see her. this will take place when Snape was dying. i might change the dates/ years and yes there will be mature content later in the chapters but ill put a warning ;)

its over.

The war that has lasted to bring down the one home he knew is over. Harry finally beat him , Voldemort .

Severus wishes that he wasn’t bleeding out to enjoy this moment of happiness. something he hasn’t felt since the love of his life (lily )died.

continuous blood seeping out of his neck almost choking him, making him cough. this is it. He thought. he wasn’t surprised that he was going to die, He knew the consequences when he became a double agent. There are so many things he would redo if he had another chance. but at last he knew that would not happen.

Blood started to draw out of his mouth making it hard for him to breathe. his chest started to rise even faster than before, his eyes became blurry and heavy. before he caused them he saw a silhouette of a person walking… no running up to him at a fast paste. the person kneeled down fast behind his head . slowly moving severus’s head with soft ample hands softly on their lap.

They lifted his head up a little, drink this. A strong but quiet voice said you will be fine but I need you to try with the little strength you have. He felt a small vile pressing against his lips tilting downward.

He tried moving his eyes up to peer at the person who tried to save his life, he could tell it was a woman by the sweet voice that spewed from her lips.not only that but the light fruity perfume that he could smell,Honestly he found the smell comforting especially at a time like this holding our dear life.

he was so in thought that the contaminants in the vile gently streamed thru his mouth and down his throat. winching severus tries his best to drink while the woman brings her left hand down to hold the two dotted wound that leaked dark blood applying pressure making it easier for him to swallow.

Whatever she gave Severus it worked making it easier for him to breath but still he was losing consciousness.

even tho he wasn’t fully conscious he could help but think the question still was

who was this woman before passing out ?

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

y/n sighed in real grabbing her wand and making the unconscious man float with a whispered spell then making her way threw the castle and on her way home. when she arrived to her small comfortable house she made sure to keep lookin to the side of her seeing if the slowly recovering man was doing fine.

opening the lock to her door the man floating behind her she slowly moves him with her wand threw the living room gently landing him on the couch. y/n takes off his shoes and sets them down on the side. she walks to the bathroom and got the first aid kit in order to patch up his wounds.

Wow, this is my life patching up a dying professor you really got something going for you she thought , But she couldn’t leave him even tho she really dint know him. well she did a little bit , hearing about him threw the castle and how he betrayed Dumbledore joining forces with an evil wizard.

She didn’t believe it tho. even thou she didn’t know Dumbledore on a personal level she could tell she was a shady old man.

Letting the golden trio get into trouble and in harms way sticking their head in drama that hal fly had nothing to do with them but never less they did help stop Voldemort. this year was her senior year officially becoming an adult , she was supposed to be partying with her friends, getting faced ass drunk. but no instead has a 35-36 year old man on her couch bleeding to death.

sighing , she stopped wasting time and got to work grabbing the first Aid kit and returning to him kneeling down face-level and got to work on his neck.

a hiss rooted out of snapes throat kind of scaring y/n sorry I’m almost done i promise. she said giving him a small smile of reassurance , taking his rough hand in the hand that wasn’t doing neck work.

He wearily tilts his head almost barely moving to the left wanting to see who was his savior.

Severus stared at her face wanting to say something, for almost one minute of Severus opening and closing his mouth like a good fish depicting what to say. Y/N peaked it out but found it quite funny and quite , cute? Maybe a little bit. After seeing how long this was gonna last she finally raised her voice.

You're welcome. She said meeting his onyx eyes staring straight into them was like staring at the stars in the sky.

Severus furrowed his brows in confusion, pursuing his lips together. He was gonna say that but his throat just wouldn’t let him , This was the first time this ever happened.

Clearly his throat lightly trying not to strain too much Severus spoke.

“Thank you for saving my life.” He never thought he would say this to someone never in a million years but

It finally happened.

Of course I would want the world famous potions teacher to die without honor now would I that’s just not a way to go. She smiled still looking into his eyes

God why are his eyes so damn enchanting the thought to her self

Severus smiled a little he may be weak but he could still read her mind . but he wouldn’t let her know that.

I'm Y/n L/n at your service . She said it a in a British accent you think being in Britain she would actually be able to imitate it but nope. Instead it was a mix between Scottish and British.

Severus continued to stare at her with a small smirk still ghostly riding on his lips. “I’m Severus, Severus snape.”

#harry potter #severus x you #x plus size reader #professor snape #snape x reader #snape x y/n #x black reader #x black fem reader #smut #angst #fluff #harry x draco #snape #professor snape x reader #x plus-size #x black plus size #severus x black reader #snape x black reader #snape x plus size reader #severus snape x plus size reader

[puppyexpressions]

Is it Safe For Dogs To Drink From Puddles?

From personal experience, there are two inevitabilities of dog ownership. The first is that, at some point, you will step out for a walk and forget to take water for your dog. The second is that your dog is always happy to stick its nose into the smelliest thing around. So you have a thirsty dog, and there is a murky, stinky puddle over there? Bingo, problem solved. Or is it? What are the health risks to your pet from drinking from puddles?

The bugs that lurk (in the puddle)

Surely the worst that can happen from picking a bug up from a puddle is an upset tummy? Well, possibly. But given the most likely cause of this upset tummy is Giardia, and it is one of the most common causes of acute gastroenteritis in humans and animals. Apart from being very unpleasant for your pet (and for you cleaning up), Giardia can be quite difficult to treat. It is also not uncommon for a pet to have repeat bouts after they have recovered from the first one. Even worse, it is a zoonosis, which means it can potentially be transmitted from pets to their owners. Fortunately, it looks like this is rare in reality, which is a silver lining.

Then there is leptospirosis, also known as “Weils’s disease”.

That’s the one that your dog catches from rat urine, which can contaminate stagnant water. It is a serious bacterial infection that can cause liver and kidney failure. Dogs can contract it through contact with water contaminated by infected urine.  It can be pretty tricky to diagnose and very difficult to treat. Worse still, it is also a zoonosis. However, pet to owner transmission is probably very rare, with people most commonly contracting it through swimming or water sports in contaminated water bodies. It should be mentioned that leptospirosis in dogs is uncommon in the UK; this may be due to vaccination (none of the affected dogs in one study was vaccinated) or underdiagnosis.

The new puddle-lurking nasty on the block is Angiostrongylus Vasorum, AKA Lungworm or French Heartworm.

Infections in pet dogs by this unpleasant parasite have become increasingly common in the UK over the last two decades, particularly in the South East and Wales. Lungworm can cause lung disease, bleeding problems and neurological disease. It was previously thought to be transmitted by dogs eating slugs and snails. More recently, evidence has suggested that gastropods shed the parasite in the environment, and dogs can be infected by drinking contaminated water.

And what about the toxins on your doorstep? A tale for all seasons.

Even that harmless-looking puddles around your home could be life-threatening. Ethylene glycol is a commonly used ingredient in antifreeze products used in cars. It can easily leak from parked vehicles to contaminate puddle water. It’s highly toxic to dogs and cats, and only a small amount needs to be ingested to be fatal as it causes kidney failure. It has a sweet smell which means it is readily licked by dogs. Every year, sadly, several dogs (and even more cats) die in the UK after ingestion of ethylene glycol. As an antifreeze product, this risk is higher during the winter months.

Then there is the danger of blue-green algae blooms caused by cyanobacteria. This natural phenomenon occurs most commonly during the summer months when the perfect conditions for explosive algal growth are most likely. The toxins produced by these blooms are dangerous to humans and dogs when ingested. Blue-green algae can often be visible by a blue-green foamy scum on the water’s surface. The local authority will put up prominent warning signs at times of high risk. It is imperative to keep your dog on the lead and out of the water when these signs are up. If your dog does somehow get into the water, it is recommended to take them directly to the vet for decontamination as toxic signs (tummy upset, tremors, wobbly gait, seizures) can start within an hour of exposure.

And then there is the bigger picture…

As with all issues environmental, the concern about environmental pollution is increasingly coming to the fore. Pesticides, herbicides to pharmaceutical residues and hormones, from agricultural, industrial and domestic use affect wildlife and the environment, and our understanding of how this happens is improving all the time. With that comes the realization that there is also a knock-on risk to our health and our pets. Yet still, the environmental levels of surprisingly few of these polluting substances are monitored. So exactly what, if anything, and how much of it ends up in your average puddle is unknown and, for this reason, drinking from puddles is generally not recommended.

My dog has been drinking from puddles for years, and she’s okay. What is the risk, really?

From reading this article, you would not be blamed for thinking that all puddles glowed fluorescent green and that it comes across as a bit alarmist. And you would be right. Most likely, a quick slurp from a puddle will do your pet no harm. Indeed, there is no need to contact your vet when your pet does so unless there are specific circumstances, like known blue-green algae risk or ethylene glycol exposure. What this article attempts to do is describe some of the potential harms of drinking from puddles. The trick is to take precautionary measures to minimize the risk, such as ensuring your pet is fully vaccinated and protected against lungworm if they insist on splashing through puddles. But the safest precaution of all is to always carry drinking water for your pet.

#dog health #dog water #dog puddles

[dudadrawings17]

Sorry... I'm not fine.

(trigger warning: very detailed description of a disease.)

For several years, I ignored its existence. I heard about it so infrequently that I never cared. Perhaps here and there, during animal vaccination campaigns. But I never imagined it could be so terrifying, so horrible, so deadly.

Damn. Everything was getting better. I was returning to eating normally, feeling more relaxed, gradually overcoming my fears that, at most, concerned the flies and mosquitoes invading my home or the dirt I might bring in from the street whenever I was forced to go out. Now, there's nothing in my thoughts but the fear of dying in one of the cruelest ways an invisible little being can provoke in a human.

Lyssavirus. Lyssa, the goddess of madness in Greek mythology. It's no wonder they associated this cursed virus with that goddess. But why the hell did I have to watch that damn video of a biologist explaining rabies while showing a person on a hospital bed, spasming from head to toe and struggling to take a sip of water, so essential for their survival? And why the hell did I, aware of my condition, seek out more and more videos and information about this damn disease?

Knowing what I know about it is the cause of feeling like this, as if my sanity is hanging by a thread. My mind fabricates false memories that make me unsure of what I saw or felt. Was that thing that entered through the bathroom window last night and stuck to my shoulder a moth? 'No, it was a tiny bat,' my mind says. Are these red marks on my shoulder just allergies? 'No, that's the bite mark the bat left you,' my mind says. What I felt dripping on my head while lying down, is it a pipe leak? 'No, it's bat saliva,' my mind tells me again.

What a nightmare! What torture! Some nights I don't sleep properly, and for days, I don't eat properly. I no longer do anything that brings me joy because my mind is too focused on what I think are the last weeks or months of my life. Just waiting for the moment when I'll have fever, coughs, sneezes, and nausea, and even when they say, 'it's just a viral infection,' I'll already be sure that my days are numbered. Seven at most. Because right after, there would be mental confusion, anxiety attacks, seizures, aggressive outbursts, hydrophobia (throat spasms making it impossible to drink water), excessive salivation, and then... coma and death.

With every new trigger that makes me imagine nonexistent bats salivating or biting me, I try, I swear I try my best, to follow what my psychologist advises: 'Duda, one day at a time.'

There is absolutely NO reason for me to be as scared as I am. And even if the unlikely case of me being infected were true, there would be nothing more I could do. So why suffer in anticipation?

That's what I'm trying to tell myself right now as I attempt to slow down my heart after another failed attempt to sleep due to anxiety. I really need to sleep. And I'm really hungry. But the fear of being attacked while I sleep or that my mother contaminated the groceries with rabid dog saliva (who knows, petting a stray dog), manages to be greater.

I'm exhausted. I'm famished. I'm crazy. I'm almost giving up... Would it hurt less if I ended this myself instead of waiting for the Lyssavirus to kill me? (Sigh) no, no. I'm too cowardly for that. After all, it's the fear of death and what will happen to me afterward that's causing all this fear. What would be the point of hastening it... Well... Although there's no longer any meaning in anything I think or do. It would just be another contradiction.

One day at a time, Eduarda.

If I have to die many years from now, lying in a bed, very old, that's good.

If it has to be a month or two from now because of a fatal virus, so be it.

One day at a time. And trying to sleep now.

#vent #mental health #ocd #contamination ocd

[harrietchin-amity-news]

So with the drinking water contaminated and there being a ectoplasm phase going on how many people are going to actually follow the advisory? Because I am so drinking that gooch juice.

Honestly, I have a feeling the warning isn't going to be taken seriously. Also we have no idea as to what or where this leak is coming from and caused by. I would avoid drinking it even if you are already consuming ectoplasm.

#the ectoplasm saga #danny phantom #amity park #amity news #ectoplasm #eye on amity #ectoplasm saga #dear amity parkers #danny fenton #dp