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melacka · 5 months

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Calendiles Secret Santa 2023

Hello @snails-in-my-mouth! I am your Calendiles Secret Santa and I have written a S2 fic filled with workplace banter and flirting. Wishing you and yours a very happy and safe holiday season, and I hope you enjoy your gift!

Title: take my love and wear it by Melacka

Summary: Giles and Jenny suffer through a Sunnydale High staff meeting with banter, innuendo and spilled tea.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1314 words

Read it on AO3 here or under the cut!

Rupert Giles had learned to hate the weekly staff meetings that Principal Snyder had implemented at the start of his tenure. They rarely included any truly useful information and would more often than not devolve into snide commentary and petty asides traded between teachers who barely interacted otherwise. Sometimes he tried to make the time pass quicker by entertaining himself with ideas of the various cliques and groups forming within the faculty, but that only took him so far, given the frequency of the blasted meetings. And so over time he had simply resigned himself to indulging in his hatred of the meetings, quietly seething in a corner until he was released to do his actual job.

That all changed, of course, when Jenny Calendar became more of a fixture in his life. Jenny was an enthusiastic participant in the staff meetings, and she had a habit of positioning herself directly opposite Giles, seemingly for no other reason than so that she could throw amused glances his way. In the last staff meeting before the winter break, however, she chose to sit right next to him. He looked up at her in surprise when she sat down.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. “I can find another chair if—”

“I don’t mind at all,” Giles said quickly. “Please, join me.”

“Do you have any plans for the break?”

Giles stared at her in surprise. The only plans he had for the break was to spend as much of it as possible with her, and she knew it. They had discussed at length their plans for a sort of hibernation at his place, free from the distractions of the world.

“I have some plans,” he said cautiously, looking around the room. “I hoped to spend some time with a friend.”

“Time with friends is so important,” Jenny agreed solemnly. “Where would we be without our friends?”

“Indeed. And you? Do you have any plans?”

“Oh, I have a few things lined up. There are a few things I’ve just been dying to try.”

“I hope the break offers you the opportunity to try all that you wish.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she murmured. “Your co-operation with be vital, Rupert”

She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes alive with mischief when she looked at him over the rim of her cup. His lips twitched in response, and he hurriedly took a sip of tea, wincing when the person on his other side jostled his elbow as they sat down. Giles sighed as he dabbed ineffectually at the drop of tea now staining his trousers.

“Be careful,” Jenny said, offering him a napkin with a smile, “these staff meetings can get a little rough sometimes.”

He waved away the napkin and gave the stain one last despairing glance, before he turned his attention back to his companion.

“I’ll be sure to keep my guard up against any potential attacks,” he said, trying to inject a little humour into his tone.

“Oh good, I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve barely begun to enjoy our time together, Rupert, it would be a tragedy for you to be taken from me due to fatal inattention at a staff meeting. This is Sunnydale, after all. Anything could happen.”

This surprised a laugh out of him, and she grinned.

“Should I arm myself before attending next time? I do have quite a cache of weapons in the library.”

“Don’t you worry about drawing undue attention to yourself at these things?”

“I suppose a crossbow would give the wrong impression.”

“On the contrary,” she said, grinning, “it would give the right impression.”

“That I seek to commit violence against my colleagues?”

“Merely that you are open to violence against your colleagues, given the right provocation. It prays on my mind, Rupert, really it does.”

She took another sip of coffee, and her eyes held a challenge now.

“Rest assured, I will endeavour to avoid unnecessary violence so that you may continue to enjoy all the benefits of our association. I would so hate to deprive you of something you enjoy, Jenny.”

Jenny tilted her head and regarded him carefully, a strangely tender expression on her face. Giles raised an eyebrow in question, and she shook her head slightly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just caught up in thinking about all the potential benefits of our association,” she said quietly, doing a truly terrible impression of him. “But what can you expect, engaging in such sexually charged innuendo in the workplace? I truly am shocked.”

Giles, who had chanced another sip of his tea, nearly choked on it. Jenny offered him the napkin again for the fresh drops of tea on his trousers and he waved it away again, red-faced from embarrassment.

“Jenny,” he gasped, looking around to see if anyone had overheard.

“Shh, Rupert, I’m only teasing.”

“Yes, I know, that’s the point!”

“Would you like me to stop?”

“Never,” he answered honestly.

“Not such a fuddy-duddy after all, huh?”

“I have it on good authority that I’m a sexy fuddy-duddy, actually,” he returned, leaning in as close as he dared while surrounded by so many people. “I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or—”

“Oh, it’s a very good thing, Rupert,” Jenny interrupted, her voice dropping low. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Unfortunately, Principal Snyder chose that moment to call the meeting to order and they pulled away from each other to resume a more appropriate distance. Giles took another sip of his tea and tried not to scowl. Jenny turned to face Principal Snyder with a look of bland interest on her face, but she spent the duration of the meeting running her foot up and down Giles’ leg under the table. It really was deliciously distracting.

Giles couldn’t remember a more enjoyable staff meeting.

When they were finally free to leave, by unspoken agreement they allowed most of their colleagues to wander out before they made a move.

“Did you enjoy the meeting, Mr Giles?” Jenny asked mildly as he held the door open for her. “You seemed a little distracted at one point, I do hope you didn’t miss anything important.”

“Impossible,” Giles murmured as he fell into step beside her. “In order for me to miss something important, there would need to be something of import at one of those ridiculous meetings. I regret to say, that there has been no such thing.”

“Not even the ongoing feud between Mr Irwin and Ms Talbot?” Jenny said, her tone amused. “They seem to think it’s important, at least.”

“Perhaps they just enjoy the attention,” Giles replied absently. “Why else would they seek to have the same argument in front of their colleagues every single week?”

“Maybe they’re in a long-standing secret relationship and all the fighting is just a ruse to throw us off the scent?”

Giles smiled as they approached her classroom, and he reached out to open the door for her.

“Do you suppose there is a lot of that going on?” he asked quietly. “Secret relationships disguised by public vitriol?”

Jenny shrugged and tossed her things carelessly onto her desk. Then she spun around and pushed him against the door, laughing at his grunt of surprise.

“I’ve never understood the need for vitriol, Rupert,” she said, leaning into his space and tilting her face up invitingly. “Our secret relationship has always had more than enough fuel without resorting to vitriol.”

“Not even when we were arguing over the relative merits of books and your awful machines?”

“That wasn’t vitriol, it was simply a difference of opinion between colleagues. Now are you going to kiss me or am I going to have to—”

Giles didn’t wait to hear what she was planning to do as he closed the gap between them and kissed her firmly.

#calendiles secret santa 2023 #btvs #giles x jenny #btvs fanfiction #calendiles

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ainyan · 1 year

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sickness prompts:

whatever: Szah'li Khiyanto reluctantly accepts help.

The sneeze echoed through the common room of the Rising Stones, and most eyes turned on Szah’li, who sat in his habitual corner, ears laid back and a pained grimace on his face. He ducked his head away from the curious stares and tugged a hankerchief free from his belt-pouch, wiping at his streaming nose and eyes. Over by the bar, F’lhaminn and Ephemie exchanged frowning glasses, and the miqo’te nodded brusquely before ducking behind the bar and pulling out a tea set generally only used by Y’shtola.

Catching sight of them, the Warrior sent them an amber-eyed glare, but F’lhaminn met his gaze without flinching and his expression quickly wilted away, ears drooping until he resembled more one of the lop-eared viera than a proud Keeper lad. Conscious of the boy’s prickly dignity, the Songstress did not smile, but bent her head industriously to the task of placing ground leaves into the strainer. Behind her, Ephemie puttered about, heating the water and preparing a plate of the youngster’s favorite tarts and cookies.

The other Scions exchanged glances and then returned to whatever his sneeze had interrupted, whether it be finishing their own breakfast, indulging in their research, or a conversation that added a soft buzz to the air. Surreptitiously, Szah’li wiped his nose again and tried his best to resist the urge to sniff and once more draw undue attention to himself. While the tea steeped, filling the air with the scent of peppermint and chamomile, he hunkered down in his chair and prayed that everyone would forget he was there.

It almost worked. The other Scions paid him no mind, and those who entered in the interminable minutes between sneeze and serving did not so much as glance in his direction. Just as Szah’li began to relax, however, F’lhaminn drew the tea ball from the pot and set it aside, then placed the plate of treats Ephemie had prepared upon the tray, along with the single cup and teapot. She plucked up the tray and began to wind her way through the tables towards his corner sanctuary.

As she came to his side, he glanced appealingly up at her, ears laid back in that instinctive response to any authoritative female miqo’te. “Lady F’lhaminn,” he began, his voice hoarse and gruff, “you need not…”

Her look skewered him and his words faltered, then fell by the wayside altogether. “I have already gone through what little trouble there was,” she replied firmly, setting the tray before him. “Now you will drink your tea, eat your tarts, then march yourself right back to your room and rest.”

Those flattened ears shot up in alarm. “But lady!” he protested. “I’ve duties t’ see to! I ain’t got time t’ fret with a sniffle.”

“And you too sick to even remember those lessons Thancred and Urianger so painstakingly set you to,” she replied, pink eyes stern as she poured his tea and held the cup out to him, waiting until he extended his own to set it directly in his outstretched palm. “Though I see you heeded the one about being a stubborn fool when sick well enough,” she added, and out of the corner of his eye he saw both hyur and elezen hunch their shoulders with equally chagrined grimaces. “Drink, Szah’li Khiyanto. Do not make me tell you again.”

He did as he was told, lifting the tea to his lips and drinking it with a grimace. It was not unpleasant, although tea was never his beverage of choice - but as it poured down its throat, the cool peppermint soothed the raw discomfort while the warmth of the tea itself curled in his belly and eased his tension. The steam drifted into his sinuses, opening them up and clearing away some of the obstruction, at least. He might have settled for a sip - but it was clear F’lhaminn would not, and so he drained the cup and set it down on the tray with a sigh.

“Excellent,” she said, satisfied, and placed a tart in his empty hand. “Drink another cup, eat your sweets, and go get some rest.” When he sighed again and nodded glumly, her expression softened and she stroked her hand over his dark hair. “It will not hurt you to care for yourself, nor to allow others to care for you as well.” When he leaned into her caresses, she continued to take advantage of his unexpected willingness to accept affection, her expression tender.

When he finally began to stir under her hand, awareness of both caresses and the public nature of their location penetrating his cold-mazed brain, she drew her hand back and reached down to take up the tray, now lighter for its lack of cookies and tea. “Go,” she said a third time. “Rest. Recover. The world will still need you when you awaken.”

His reluctance was rote, his rueful expression habitual as he rose from his seat and slumped his way through the tables. As he passed by the table where the senior Scions sat, Thancred reached out and gripped his wrist lightly, whispering softly with a stern expression. Szah’li gazed at him, alarmed, then flushed. Turning stiffly, he offered F’lhaminn a passable bow. “Thank you, Lady F’lhaminn,” he said haltingly. “I appreciate your care of me.”

She watched, bemused, as he pulled free of Thancred’s grasp and disappeared into the Respite, presumably to rest. Her pink eyes turned on the rogue, who gave her a toothy grin and a jaunty salute before returning to his interrupted breakfast. She shook her head and carried the remains of Szah’li’s tea back to the bar to clean and stow away for next time it was needed.

Original Ask Meme

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took a bit - it's amazing how hard it is to write about being sick when you're... busy being sick. XD

#asked and answered #szah'li khiyanto #f'lhaminn qesh #thancred waters

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silverstream2 · 1 year

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Trigun characters as D&D races + classes, because fuck it, I'm bored.

-Vash:

Class: Cleric in the Peace Domain

God: Either Eldath or Illmater.

Race: Aasimar

-Knives:

Class: Oath of Vengeance paladin

God: Hoar

Race: Aasimar

Honestly, not sure if Hoar would take him or if Knives would end up being an Oathbreaker, given how extreme Knives gets against humans. But its the best I've got for now. Anybody else have any other ideas, feel free to add.

Also debating what subclass the lads should be. I know going Protector Aasimar for Vash is kinda the obvious choice, but I also kinda love the idea of Scourge Aasimar Vash? Not only because "you can use your action to unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing a searing light to radiate from you, pour out of your eyes and mouth, and threaten to char you" sounds METAL AS HELL, and exactly like the kind of thing that would have to preclude a warning of "Be not afraid", but also because of the deliciousness of Vash's angel powers being the ones that burn him up as badly as whoever he's fighting nearby whenever he uses them.

Which is also why I kinda love the idea of Protector Aasimar Knives- Vash's angel powers just hurt him whenever he uses them, unlike Knives' abilities (that are- he thinks- CLEARLY more useful), so therefore Knives has to be the one to protect his baby brother from himself the world everything else and keep him from hurting himself.

Just. The infantilization and gaslighting and poetic irony of it all. Yes, good.

Also this bit about Aasimar, from the Dungeon Master's Guide, "Aasimar often attempt to pass as humans in order to right wrongs and defend goodness on the Material Plane without drawing undue attention to their celestial heritage. They strive to fit into society, although they usually rise to the top, becoming revered leaders and honorable heroes."

-Wolfwood:

Race: Half- elf.

Class: Rogue (Assassin)/Cleric of the Twilight Domain.

God: Selune.

If he got to pick a god and role for himself to worship, I mean. The whole thing about the Twilight Domain is, to quote Tasha's Cauldron of Everything,

"The twilit transition from light into darkness often brings calm and even joy, as the day's labors end and the hours of rest begin. The darkness can also bring terrors, but the gods of twilight guard against the horrors of the night.

Clerics who serve these deities [...] bring comfort to those who seek rest and protect them by venturing into the encroaching darkness to ensure that the dark is a comfort, not a terror."

Also something something, Twilight Domain lets you fly at 6th level with Steps of Night for 1 minute per your proficiency bonus, if your in dim light and darkness. Something something, Vash's angel powers don't give him wings/the ability to fly (but Knives' does), so Wolfwood could let Vash borrow his.

-Meryl:

Race: Human

Class: Rogue (Inquisitive)

-Milly:

Race: Halfing (Stout)

Class: Cleric in the Life Domain.

God: Cyrrollalee

Honestly wasn't sure what class to put Milly in, but this is my best guess besides maybe some type of Fighter.

#Sil talks #Trigun #Trigun: Stampede #D&D

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bluerose5 · 1 year

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Serah Hawke,

Maker, I hope that I do not regret doing this, but it eats away at one's conscience to watch Harrowing after Harrowing go by, unable to say a word. Unable to help. I hate to admit, I have attended my fair share of them. I have had to commit unspeakable atrocities, all supposedly done in the Maker’s name, but I do not confess to such sins, expecting your forgiveness for my crimes. I simply want to deliver a warning to try and make up for the past. I cannot remain silent anymore.

I hear you are an apprentice of exceptional skill, well beyond your peers. I have faith in your abilities with your Harrowing fast approaching, but I cannot allow the Order to so cruelly risk your life. Tell as many others as you can without drawing undue attention to yourself. I want you to tell! It's not fair what they do to your people, that they force you to face horrors that no other is exposed to. Surely there are better ways to test a mage's control than this! There must be something that can be done rather than resorting to the brand for all who refuse.

If I get discharged from the Order for what I must tell you, then so be it. It will be worth the risk. The Harrowi—

—The third letter of correspondence cuts off abruptly. The latter half of the page is burned to a crisp, the edges blackened and charred.

~~~

Duly noted. And thank you.

—The fourth letter, like the second, is on a torn scrap of paper, hastily written. On the back, there appears to be notes of some kind, the ink smudged.

[Start] [Prev] [Next]

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #da2 #malcolm hawke #ser maurevar carver #malcolm x maurevar #codex: family history #bluerose rambles #bluerose writes #it's not me it's queue

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vapehk1 · 16 days

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papillon82fluttersby · 2 months

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Famous Five Art Nostalgia #LC13

Introductory post

Introduction to ‘Les Cinq’

Les Cinq et le rayon Z – The Famous Five and the Z-Rays

Original publication date: 1977 (France), 1987 (UK)

(Cover by Jean Sidobre, 1980)

The Five are caught in a strange case that will leave them stunned. 😶

~~~~~~

Plot summary:

(Disclaimer: All provided translations are my own.)

The Kirrins are spending the spring holidays in Clairval, a small town in a mountainous area near the Swiss border, thanks to Mr Kirrin attending a scientific conference in the area. The children delight in exploring the area on their bikes.

As the Five are climbing up a path on a hill, Dick’s bike stops abruptly and he goes flying over the handlebars. Once the children are reassured that Dick is not seriously injured, they turn to the bike and are astounded to see it standing up on its own, incomprehensibly immobilized, and they are unable to move it despite their best efforts.

(An inexplicable occurrence!)

[TRANSLATION: Anne: Oh! Dick! Your bike's paralysed! Julian: Yes, that's exactly it! Narrator: The bike standing on its own on the road defies their comprehension.]

Just as they're wondering what to do, a 15-year-old local boy approaches on his own bike. After introducing himself as Carl, the boy tells them that the exact same thing happened to him a couple of days earlier, his bike freezing for several minutes on the road before inexplicably unfreezing again. And that's exactly what happens with Dick’s bike, which falls down on the road after a few moments. Since Carl had his misadventure in the same general area, they examine their surroundings but don’t find anything out of the ordinary. When the Five recount their adventure at dinner, Mr Kirrin urges them not to talk about it with anyone else, without offering further explanations.

(First investigations)

[TRANSLATION: Dick: None of this tells us very much. Carl: It's an unsolvable mystery. George: There’s no such thing as an unsolvable mystery. Narrator: Back to their rented villa, George, in agreement with her cousins, decides to tell her parents about their adventure. Dick: I took a serious fall on my bike this morning... and in rather unusual circumstances! Fanny: I hope you didn't hurt yourself!]

The Five go back to the hill on the next day to continue their investigations. Timmy is chasing a rabbit when the latter suddenly comes to a halt, petrified as Dick’s bike was the previous day, before reviving after a while.

After hearing about this new event in the evening, Mr Kirrin reveals that one of his colleagues, Professor Audouin, has invented a paralysing ray, known as the Z-ray, and that the prototype was stolen the day before the conference, along with the professor’s wallet and travel bag while he was settling at the hotel. The device is a cylinder fitted with three buttons that can be used to immobilise either an object (such as a bike), a living being (such as a rabbit) or both at the same time (hypothetically a bike and its driver). The random use of the ray so far leads Mr Kirrin to believe that the transmitter has been stolen by local thieves rather than foreign spies, but he fears that this activity might draw undue attention to this new technology.

Back on the hill the next day, Anne spots an old shack which is in sight of the path, and they see signs of people using this place. After this discovery, the Five leisurely make their way back to the path, George stopping to play fetch with Timmy while Dick takes a nap under a tree and Julian and Anne contemplate a lizard basking in the sun, when George’s cousins suddenly notice that they can no longer hear her playing with Timmy... Indeed, they find George petrified in mid-motion! Evidently, she has been targeted from the shack. When George revives, she is – to no one’s surprise – furious, and reports that she could hear her cousins talking but couldn't feel Timmy pawing at her.

(George falls victim to the ray! 😱)

[TRANSLATION: Dick: L… L… Look! Geo… George! She’s pe… pe… petrified. Anne: How awful! Julian: Don’t cry! Remember what happened with the rabbit. Dick: These wretches are toying with us. If only Uncle Quentin were here.]

Two days later, the news comes out that a robbery occurred in the vicinity, the targeted couple reportedly being unable to move while the thieves went through the house and stole their valuables. The Five understand that the ray’s robbers have found a way to put this technology to use. They set up a surveillance at the shack, but to no avail. Similar thefts continue for the next few days.

Their surveillance finally pays off one night when the Five see the thieves returning to the shack after a robbery. They manage to get hold of the device and call the police. The bandits are arrested, and the device is entrusted to Mr Kirrin, who wants to return it to Professor Audouin as quickly as possible. But no sooner do they arrive at the hotel than they learn that the professor has just been kidnapped by two men, who had him climb into a car after drugging him. The car was reported to head for the Swiss border, and it is suspected that the professor was abducted by foreign agents who want the plans for the Z-ray.

(Bad news at the hotel)

[TRANSLATION: Doorman: [It’s about] Professor Audouin, sir! It seems he's been kidnapped! Hotel manager: Kidnapped here... in my establishment! Mr Kirrin: Never mind your pride! Tell us what you did to find our friend.]

A few days later, the police is stumped and the kidnappers have still not been arrested. The Five suspect that they have stayed in the area to avoid the roadblocks and thwart the search. The Five follow the road leading to the border, looking for smaller junctions that the kidnappers might have taken. Their investigations lead them to an isolated mansion, discussions with local folks supporting their intuition that this might be the place where the professor is detained. In order to ascertain the professor's presence, they go back to the mansion in the evening after taking a piece of the professor's clothing for Timmy to smell (Anne was charged with this mission: she went to the hotel where she rummaged through the laundry basket to retrieve one of the professor’s socks). The Five confirm the professor's presence in the mansion, but also discover the presence of two guard dogs.

(An ingenious plan)

[TRANSLATION: Anne: ...And there were piles of bags containing customers' dirty laundry with their names written on them. Julian: Ahahah! George: Shush! Give me that sock. George (second panel): Come on, Tim! Search, search! Timmy: Snuff, snuff. Timmy (third panel): Woowhoowoo… George: Tim, you crazy dog! Will you be quiet.]

The Five take their chance the next day and manage to get the professor free, using the Z-ray to paralyse the kidnappers. The police are called and arrest the bandits.

~~~~~~

Cover art through the ages:

(Disclaimer: This is not an exhaustive list; sometimes the dates are difficult to pinpoint; and I have purposefully not included editions that re-used similar cover art, with differences only in layout and font style.)

(Original cover art by Jean Sidobre, Hachette, 1980)

(Yves Beaujard, Hachette, 1989 – zap!)

(Paul Gillon, Hachette, 19927 – breaking and entering!)

(Frédéric Rébéna, Hachette, 2013 – investigators deep in thought)

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

#papillon82 reads #famous five art nostalgia #famous five #le club des cinq #les cinq #claude voilier #illustrations #jean sidobre #next week: 🧸🖼️🚤#see you then!

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cheekykate · 5 months

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Using Crystal Power

After you have empowered your crystal, you can wear it daily, preferably in contact with your skin. Or, place it on your body or in your environment to radiate out or draw on the power as appropriate. A piece of Black Tourmaline or Amber, for instance, placed in each corner of your home invokes the power of protection and energy screening, safeguarding you. Or, you can use your crystal for healing or to expand your consciousness.

One of the easiest ways to tap into a crystal’s healing power is to place the crystal over an appropriate chakra or organ for fifteen minutes to rebalance the energy centre. Regular cleansing and reenergizing of your chakras (the body’s psychic immune system) maintains your energy at optimum levels and stimulates your personal power.

If a crystal produces a healing challenge (an intensification of “symptoms”), remove it and put Smoky Quartz in its place. You can also reharmonize the subtle nervous system with Natrolite or Scolecite.

To expand your consciousness with high-vibration crystals, either place a crystal on your third eye, soma, or higher crown chakra or sit holding the stone. Breathe gently and focus your awareness on the crystal. Do not try to see or experience anything, simply let the process unfold. Notice any changes, without giving them undue attention.

After ten to twenty minutes (no longer), remove the crystal. Picture yourself totally surrounded by a bubble of crystal light. Feel the contact your feet make with the Earth, and then get up and go about your everyday business. If you feel “floaty” or unfocused, hold a Smoky Quartz or Hematite as you visualize roots growing from the balls of your feet, joining at the Earth star chakra, and then going down into the centre of the Earth where they attach to the ball of iron at its centre to create a shamanic anchor.

empowerment. Psychic

#101powercrystals

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chicagodoctorsclub · 9 months

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Exploring the Benefits of Female Hairline Lowering

For many, the concept of beauty extends beyond traditional norms, celebrating individuality and uniqueness. Our hairlines, often considered the frame of our faces, play a pivotal role in defining our overall aesthetics. In recent years, many women have embraced the power of female hairline-lowering surgery to achieve a more harmonious and proportionate facial balance. But it's not just about aesthetics; it's about empowerment. We'll uncover how female hairline lowering goes beyond the physical, helping women feel more confident and at ease with their appearance. Whether you're considering the procedure yourself or simply curious about the journey others have undertaken, this series aims to provide a holistic understanding of the benefits, considerations, and possibilities of female hairline lowering.

Enhancing Facial Harmony and Proportion

Your facial features work in harmony to create a unique and beautiful whole. However, an imbalanced or high hairline can sometimes disrupt this harmony, affecting the overall proportions of your face. Female hairline lowering surgery offers a solution to restore balance and create a more proportionate appearance. By carefully adjusting the position of your hairline, skilled surgeons can achieve a more harmonious relationship between your hairline, forehead, and other facial features.

This procedure not only frames your face more elegantly but also draws attention to your eyes and other defining features, enhancing your natural beauty. Whether you're seeking to reduce the visibility of a high forehead, address asymmetry, or simply achieve a more balanced facial proportion, female hairline lowering can be a transformative choice. It's about more than just altering your hairline; it's about unlocking the potential for enhanced facial symmetry and proportion that can truly illuminate your unique beauty.

Boosting Confidence and Self-Esteem

Confidence radiates from within, and when you feel good about your appearance, that inner radiance shines even brighter. Female hairline lowering isn't just about altering your hairline; it's about embracing your individuality and empowering your self-esteem. Imagine looking in the mirror and seeing the reflection of the person you've always envisioned. Aligning your hairline with your preferences can create a profound impact on how you perceive yourself.

Whether you've struggled with a receding hairline, a high forehead, or asymmetry, the surgical precision of hairline lowering can help you achieve a look that aligns with your inner sense of beauty. The transformation goes beyond the physical – it touches your self-assurance and how you carry yourself in the world. With a more balanced and harmonious hairline, you can step forward with renewed self-confidence, embracing new opportunities and interactions with poise.

Natural-Looking Results

When considering any cosmetic procedure, the goal is often to enhance your features while maintaining a natural look. Female hairline lowering is no exception – it's an artful combination of surgical precision and aesthetic understanding, aimed at creating results that seamlessly blend with your unique facial characteristics. Experienced surgeons take great care to ensure that the lowered hairline appears as if it has always belonged there, enhancing your overall appearance without drawing undue attention. The procedure involves meticulous planning, considering factors such as your facial proportions, hairline shape, and individual preferences.

The result? A more balanced and proportionate hairline that complements your other features. Whether you're aiming to reduce the appearance of a high forehead, correct asymmetry, or simply achieve a more harmonious look, the emphasis is on achieving outcomes that appear natural and harmonize with your innate beauty. When done with skill and expertise, female hairline lowering offers the potential for a transformation that enhances your aesthetics while remaining virtually undetectable to the untrained eye. The ultimate goal is to help you embrace your beauty confidently, with results that look and feel like an authentic extension of yourself.

Minimal disruption with female hairline lowering

Choosing to enhance your appearance through cosmetic procedures is a personal decision that often comes with considerations about recovery and lifestyle adjustments. With female hairline lowering, the good news is that the procedure is designed for minimal disruption to your daily life. In many cases, female hairline lowering is performed on an outpatient basis, meaning you can return home on the same day as the procedure. While individual recovery experiences can vary, most people find that any discomfort is manageable and short-lived.

You might experience some mild swelling or discomfort initially, but these effects generally subside within a short period. Because the incisions are often strategically placed to be discreet, any potential scarring is typically well-hidden within your hairline. And as your healing progresses, the results become increasingly natural-looking, with minimal evidence that a procedure was even performed.

Reduced forehead visibility with female hairline lowering

Your forehead is a canvas that frames your face, and its proportions can significantly impact your overall appearance. If you've ever wished for a more balanced facial profile with reduced forehead visibility, female hairline lowering might be the solution you've been seeking. By carefully adjusting the position of your hairline, skilled surgeons can achieve a look that minimizes the amount of visible forehead, creating a more harmonious and proportionate facial balance.

This can lead to a more balanced distribution of facial features, drawing attention to your eyes, nose, and lips in a way that enhances your natural beauty. Whether you've always felt your forehead was too prominent or you're seeking to restore proportions that might have changed over time, female hairline lowering can help you achieve the look you desire. It's about finding a balance that brings out the best in your unique features and empowers you to present your most confident self to the world.

Dr. Douglas M. Sidle, MD

Galter Pavilion, 675 N St Clair St #15-200, Chicago, IL 60611, United States

+13126958182

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vipralykos · 1 year

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The Pax Vampyri

is a newer set of Codes from the New York based Court of Lazarus and the Order of the Black Marble (aka The Black Trinity Coven). (I think the Court itself as established in the year 2000 but I could be mistaken on this. they are definitely over 20 years in existence tho.)

– The Seven Blood Covenants –

I. Vows – The First Covenant

Vows and Oaths are what bind us. Do not take one unless you understand the commitment involved. Give due respect to your own- and to those of all other nocturnal communities. Without Vows and Oaths, we are pretenders.

II. Aesthetics – The Second Covenant

Aesthetics are the black fabric of our world. Freely acknowledge and celebrate the dark beauty found in the realm of the senses. These things help identify us and draw us to one another. Without Aesthetics, we are desolate.

III. Maturity – The Third Covenant

Maturity is what proves that we are ready. Always carry yourself with dignity and act with intelligence. Rash acts bring undue attention to our community, and that we cannot allow. Without Maturity, we are children.

IV. Pride – The Fourth Covenant

Pride is how we show our strength. Never be ashamed of who and what you are. Our world is not for the timid, but temper your Pride by knowing when and where to reveal your true colors. Without Pride, we are faceless.

V. Yearning – The Fifth Covenant

Yearning is what sets us apart. Understand the depth and breadth of your hunger, and treat it with reverence. Limit your needs only with a sincere recognition of the boundaries of others. Without Yearning, we are empty.

VI. Respect – The Sixth Covenant

Respect is the heart of our world. Show Respect to every member of your community, regardless of rank. Offer Respect and hospitality to guests and members of other communities. Without Respect, we are unworthy.

VII. Immortality – The Seventh Covenant

Immortality is the dream of our kind, but the only thing that truly lives forever are Ideals. Always stand by your principles, your kind and your culture. With this dedication, we defy death. Without Immortality, we are finite.

The Black Trinity:Covenant

Recognize and respect all Vampire Courts, Communities, Churches and Societies.

Resolve rather than create conflict.

Revel in our shared heritage.

#vampyre #Vampyrelaws #Vampyrecode #VampyreGuidelines #VampyreReligion #VampyreLifestyle

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rubysharkruby · 3 years

Photo

Edward Little + manners

#edward little #the terror #the terror amc #theterroredit #terror gifs #my gifs #tv #it would be funny if this set #was just little politely removing a different item of clothing #for different situations #but alas it was not to be #also!#his quiet rapping on the table to show approval #without drawing undue attention to yourself #is something i've seen from older (english and scottish) male relatives #but google tells me it's primarily a german tradition #and mostly used in an academic context?#and matthew mcnulty lived in germany #until he was (i think?) thirteen #so i'm wondering if that's where he picked it up from #and exactly how widespread this gesture is #since i don't have any german ancestry #i find it interesting anyway!#edward little = a very polite and kind man #who did his best #even after others had stopped trying #and i love him

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no-droids · 4 years

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The Secret

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Rating: Explicit

Summary: On a dark and dreary night, Anakin tries to see if he can influence your dreams.

A/N: idk what in the hell this even is tbh I just started writing it two days ago idk what happened this is some inception shit but not the crazy ass mind bending plot twist part at the very end of inception but like just the cool middle part where you kinda get what’s sorta going on but not really okay anyways I gotta go

Warnings: There are DUBCON/NONCON ELEMENTS to this, smut/oral sex, a splash of m/m (sorta?), dark Anakin uses the force to mess with your dreams without your knowledge or consent so please read at your own discretion

***

Anakin knows it’s wrong.

It’s the middle of the night on a moon he never bothered learning the name of and Anakin knows it’s wrong when his eyes shift over to you for the fifth time in the past minute. Curled up with your back to him and the crackling firelight illuminating this tiny little cave, breathing soft and quiet through your nose as you sleep, the wind roaring monstrously outside. Anakin acknowledges it—the moral impropriety of even sitting here thinking about things he shouldn’t be with you so close by. It’s wrong, no getting around it.

But there’s also something inside him that… wants the wrongness.

He likes it. Anakin likes having secrets, he likes breaking rules even when nobody is consciously here to witness it. It makes him feel alive in a way that battlefields just can’t anymore, not after two years of constant conflict where the only enemies to feel his wrath have been comprised of nuts and bolts, their robotic cries never leaving him with any satisfaction anymore. At the start of the Clone Wars, sure, it was a thrill to slice through voice boxes and body parts, even if they were mechanical. But the droids aren’t afraid of death, they’re just programmed to stay alive. It’s like killing large, dumb swarms of bugs—it needs to be done for the common good but there’s never any true fulfillment in it anymore, it just feels like a task to be completed instead of an earnest, hard-earned goal.

He’s also been given direct permission to do it. He’s even been ordered to carry out enormous droid massacres on behalf of the Republic, but that’s the thing. Anakin isn’t looking for permission, see, it takes away half the thrill.

No, he wants to feel wrong. He wants to wonder if he shouldn’t have. He wants the quiet guilt, the sparkle of holding a secret he’ll never breathe a word about, the addictive power trip from having real influence over something, something equally as real.

Technically, Anakin is supposed to be on lookout right now. He’s meant to stay awake and patrol the perimeter of the cave for enemy combatants, but he doesn’t even bother pretending to be diligent when it’s just you two here. It’s not necessary. He’d be able to sense another lifeform miles away in this secluded, barren wasteland; there’s no threat to be found right now. He can keep warm by the crackling firelight in this cave, sheltered from the dust storm that spontaneously broke out a few hours ago. He can stay awake without moving a muscle and listen to your slow breathing all night long, letting it fill him with shameful desires he spends the daylight hours fighting and suppressing.

He silently flicks his gaze over to you once more, blinking as he studies you. He can sense your mind becoming creative in its slumber, beginning to swirl into dreamlike possibilities around yourself, about to choose a path for your consciousness to follow tonight. Yes, this is what he’s waiting for. He can’t force you to dream—that’s beyond his expertise as a Jedi. But if he finds himself in the right place at the right time, he can certainly try his best to… give you a suggestion.

The wind whistles outside and the fire pops quietly and you continue to breathe. In, and out. In, and out.

Anakin closes his eyes, and begins.

He first maps your body with the Force, trying to understand it on a deeper level. Gauge it—its proportions, its ambience, the thrumming lifeforce flowing through your veins even as you sleep. He has to be careful—as a fellow Knight, there’s no guarantee you won’t immediately be able to spot him exploring your energy in this way, there’s nothing to stop you from suddenly rolling over and asking just what exactly he thinks he’s doing.

But Anakin is patient. It’s one of the only times he can remember truly exercising that untapped potential inside him, perfectly content to allow you to drift while he works to find his bearings with you. Minds are complex, especially when they’re unconscious. They’re finicky and never stay in the same spot for long—it’s not like they evade, necessarily, but instead, they just… float around. Pulsing. In and out of existence, hiding behind and under immovable things, no rhyme or reason for it, vanishing into uncertainty and nothingness as soon as he thinks he’s found it. Like trying to find a microscopic air pocket in the depths of a pitch black ocean. He’s not losing any oxygen by existing right at the edges of your sleep, but it takes hard concentration to stay here, hidden, not allowing himself to slip. He’s looking, he’s looking… but he soon realizes he just needs to wait longer. He needs to wait until you float your way back around to him, until you present the opening yourself.

So Anakin waits.

And waits…

And then suddenly—

—There. He locks onto a flicker in the Force and holds, finally isolating and breaching the surface of your inner subconscious. Anakin smiles softly, a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his temple at the effort it took to locate you without alerting you of his presence. There you are. Maker, it sure is pretty in here, isn't it? He has you, he’s cradling the buried, hidden, most fragile part of your soul as you slumber, not knowing any better.

His heart thumps with excitement even though he’s barely done anything yet. To someone without sensitivity to the Force, they might just think the both of you are asleep right now. Just the two of you sitting still in this relatively small space, eyes closed, neither of you are touching, nobody has said anything or made any substantial movements in hours, nothing has changed in this world. All of it is existing in another plane, a place most people wouldn’t be able to recognize unless someone informed them of its existence, and even then, it would be beyond understanding.

But he has you now. He’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. He can allow his focus to dip just slightly, knowing your mind will pull him along through the comatose current. He senses you already working through the beginning whispers of dreams, but they’re not the kind people can ever remember. These aren’t formed, there’s no substance to them—it’s just pure, abstract dreamspace for your mind to drift through while you slumber.

Finding your true consciousness through all the murky, shapeless slumber was the test in skill. Now comes the luck.

Very carefully, without arousing any suspicion or drawing undue attention to himself, Anakin begins to drag the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth. He doesn’t open his mouth, he doesn’t move a single muscle outwardly—he just lets his tongue begin to flitter around slowly in its enclosed cavern as he breathes, making the movements as soft and hypnotic as he can, matching the aimless way you’re carrying your mind and his shadow through the darkness.

He’s tried this before. Once or twice, with a pretty Ambassador he was tasked with protecting for a few months at the start of the Clone Wars, but the results were always less than ideal. He could never seamlessly transfer his desires through her consciousness before she awoke, perhaps because she wasn’t Force sensitive. The dream would either never happen, or he would push too hard and it’d turn into a rabid nightmare that fractured her thoughts and made her terrified to close her eyes for weeks. Not this time, though, Anakin isn’t going to allow it. Not with you, not after all the unprecedented effort it took to even just get himself here.

He finds a bit more passion to put into his movements, his jaw beginning to work with more purpose. Stars, he wants this to work, and while it’s probable that there’s an easier way to accomplish it, this isn’t something the Academy trains for. There’s only so much he can do except just be patient and giving with his soft, muted thoughts, urging you to make use of them without ever saying them aloud.

And suddenly, like the dark waves of your sleep decide to illuminate for him all on their own, your subconscious mind responds to the gentle stimulus. It carefully reaches out and studies the suggestion he’s silently offering, having spent what feels like an eternity trying to entice your rawest, most fundamental being into going somewhere it normally wouldn’t go, all without letting you know he’s even there.

His tongue is still moving. With purpose, with a specific intent in mind, Anakin allows his head to slowly fall back as he lifts his chin up towards it, wanting it more and more the longer you take to consider it, as if your mind is actively trying to tease him by playing hard to get. He can feel you right there, feel you thinking about it, and the whole thing is almost like some elaborate courting ritual while he waits with bated breath for you to decide whether or not to humor him.

But then, just when Anakin fears you may be too strong to be swayed, too powerful in the Force to be tempted by an outside source, you abruptly snatch the idea from him and start to run with it.

Suddenly parts of your spirit begin illuminating that should be dormant right now, and Anakin follows you, wherever you’re leading him. He knows none of this is necessarily intentional on your behalf—nobody can consciously pick and choose their dreams, not even Jedi. But this endeavor proves that it’s absolutely possible to subtly inspire them in each other, regardless of the morality behind it.

The wind continues to howl outside the cave and remind him that an entire universe still exists beyond your beautifully soporose mind, but the dreamscape gradually begins unfolding around him without any further prompting, requiring nothing more than what he’s already provided. Anakin’s tongue continues to simulate and suggest regardless, only now he feels the ghost of it beginning to materialize somewhere else besides the roof of his mouth, the sensations appearing before the images can be conjured to fill in the gaps. His hands suddenly tighten on his thighs at the soft, enticing feeling beginning to take root in you.

And oh. It’s… good. It feels different when his own body isn’t really the target of the stimulation, when he’s doing nothing more than simply experiencing it vicariously. Anakin supposes he could’ve bypassed all this effort, just aimed the pleasure more directly from the very beginning instead of working to inspire and coax it out of your own consciousness, but that was never his intention and it misses the point entirely. Where’s the challenge in it? The finesse is lost, it doesn’t appeal to him. It’s brash and brutish and not his style. No, this is what he wanted. He wanted to get just close enough to plant the most basic, fundamental idea in your head and then witness the rest of it all play out as a phantom passenger. Step back, strap in, and see how you kindle and manipulate the desire yourself, exactly the way you want it.

Anakin starts to breathe a little heavier through his nose, shoulders tense as he works to ride the slow swelling of your own prolonged pleasure with you, not knowing if or when it’s going to peak. He’s never made it this far before, he has no idea what to expect. Your consciousness does all the heavy lifting for him, your floor muscles move and contract without him needing to do anything to encourage it, the dream he seeded now completely taking over and whisking you both away.

But then… then suddenly Anakin doesn’t understand. Because yes, your mind works exactly the way he hoped it would—everything goes the incredibly precise direction he intended, and yet the destination is somehow… here? Back at the very beginning?

You dream of a cave. It’s exactly the same as the one you’re both silently holed up in for the night, and no new faces have appeared. If Anakin fluttered his eyes open at this specific moment, absolutely nothing around him would change. Except, perhaps, the subtle glow around everything—the watery way the air seems to be moving, as if it can’t decide whether it wants to exist or not so it strangely succeeds in doing both at the same time. He’s not really here—at least, he doesn’t think he is, he’s just seated on the dirt floor, appearing as nothing more than an invisible witness to it.

No. No, actually, he takes that back, he… is here. It takes him a moment to see the full picture as you’re still putting the puzzle pieces together, but… that’s him. A projection of himself at least, looking only slightly different but recognizable enough. Dark robes, robotic right arm, steady gaze.

But where are you? Anakin looks around the empty cave, still trying to understand how you’re painting this, his conscious mind moving much more rapidly than your own abstract one and yet also somehow taking so much longer to catch up to you. You’re not here. Why aren’t you here? He’s getting stuck on the details, he knows he’s lagging behind.

It takes a moment longer. Just one, before Anakin suddenly realizes that… he’s not just an invisible witness, is he?

He looks back down to see his own head now buried between his thighs.

But they’re not his thighs, not really. They’re yours. He’s just seeing everything from your point of view, feeling everything you’re feeling from the small little space he’s occupying in your mind.

At this point, Anakin needs to anchor. He feels himself—his real self, the one currently stuck in a cave in the midst of an unexpected dust storm—curl inwards and clamp his legs together. This will work. If he focuses enough to pinpoint the way his knees feel pressed tight together, he can have a tether to separate himself from your dream, the way yours are currently… wide open. This is all too similar to your true surroundings—he didn’t expect this, he doesn’t want to get lost.

And yet… Maker, it feels good. His long curls feel so soft in your hands, his tongue drags slow magic between your legs. When Anakin first suggested the idea to you, he didn’t think you’d assign the role back to him. He assumed you had someone else in mind, somewhere else you wished to be besides this dull, dreary setting. He gave you just an inkling of a prompt, and this is what the most creative part of your mind created. Something he could be doing at this exact moment, if only he’d known you’d be interested.

Then again, Anakin thinks, you may have just recognized him subconsciously. You may have attached him to the idea already, if only because he was the truest originator of it. But it doesn’t matter now, he can’t process such complex thoughts while maintaining the suspended mental state he’s in—he feels like he’ll either completely fall into it or out of it if he tries.

But as your muscles continue to work and your pleasure continues to build, it becomes harder and harder to separate where he is in relation to you. Anakin clenches his legs tighter together as you open yours wider apart, the dream gaining more strength as it develops. Stars, it’s—it’s—

Anakin starts to lose it and he needs to tug on that tether to his surroundings again, but it’s way more difficult than it should be to recognize himself. His calloused fingers on his left hand tremble as he reaches up and uses them to cover his face, biting his tongue to stop the low rumbles of ecstasy that want to claw their way out of his throat. Maker, this feels so… different from the build he knows. He thought—if he was successful—that he’d be able to handle it as silently and stoically as he’s able to handle his own pleasure, but this is something else entirely. Why does it feel so… so spectacular? Maker, he never realized the sensation was all that different on the inside, much less that he was actually missing out by having a dick between his legs.

But then suddenly there’s a pause, a break in the way you’ve been rhythmically squeezing and flexing your body for him.

The dream adapts to it. Anakin looks down between your open thighs just in time to see himself pulling away from your warmth, putting two fingers in his mouth, before slowly easing his hand back down between them.

No, he thinks, a bright flare of panic sparking inside him as he immediately snatches and yanks the tether to reality, popping his eyes open and pulling away from your mind entirely, oh no—wait, that’s not what I—

But see. That’s the thing about being so meticulous about conjuring something that doesn’t actually exist. Once his brilliant creation decides to backfire on him—a fool-proof way to escape it doesn’t actually exist either.

He… he can’t wake up. No matter how much his body struggles backwards on the dirt floor of the cave, how wide he can feel his eyes are right now, how excruciatingly aware he is that none of this is real, none of this is actually happening to him, he’s caught in the dream he planted and you’re hauling him along for the ride. The closest he can describe it is like having footage play in one eye while the other can see perfectly fine. He knows where the line that separates reality is, but he can’t escape your consciousness’s crushing gravitational pull; it’s too massive and overwhelming now, he can’t gain enough velocity to get home. Real life exists but only through a window, and being stuck on the other side like this—knowing he’s dreaming but not being able to jolt awake when he’s very ready to leave—is suddenly more terrifying than any nightmare Anakin has ever experienced.

It also has unintended consequences. Clinging so desperately to his own body has made him completely aware of it in the purgatory he’s now trapped himself in, but the pleasure is still there so the source of the stimulation is still there. They’re not your thighs anymore, they’re his thighs again. But that’s also still him between his legs, continuing to ease his fingers forwards.

He keeps retreating back and away from them no matter what, but there’s nothing more he can do.

Anakin helplessly watches on as his own fingers slowly disappear up inside himself, and his eyes instantly lose focus and his jaw goes slack as he feels it the way you would. They’re not real, so there’s no pain, no true pressure or stretch, just… hard, unadulterated stimulation starting to burn up inside him.

He doesn’t realize his body kept moving until he suddenly feels the wall of the cave slam into his back and he has to brace himself against it, frantically shoving himself back into it as far as he can with his legs and digging his nails into dirt at the base, scrabbling for breath and stability. Anakin tightens up wickedly as you both bear down on the phantom intrusion, sweat beading at his hairline as he works to process the foreign sensation and you whimper quietly in your sleep. His cock is rock hard between his legs and he shudders to think that his mind will compensate for the difference and his alter ego will actually take it into his mouth—but no, the projection doesn’t change because it’s still coming from you, still being led by your own desires. Dream-Anakin’s mouth drops and his tongue comes out to keep licking your slit but to the real Anakin, it just looks like his mouth disappears somewhere near his balls, and then a magnificent swell of bliss suddenly kicks in before he can fight as savagely against it as he wants. He’d normally be repulsed, and maybe he currently is to some extent, but because your pleasure spikes so dangerously with it, his hips stutter into the sensation just as desperately.

He’s making noise, he knows he is—he can feel his throat working too hard for just air to be moving through. No, he’s whimpering, or moaning, or doing something but he can’t hear himself at all. His instinct is to yell as loudly as he can, to try and wake you up manually, but it doesn’t seem to work, you’re way too far gone now. He listens for the dust storm that should be screaming outside, the popping of the fire somewhere in this cave, but they’re suddenly nowhere to be found. He’s being dragged under by your enormous current that’s somehow still continuing to build in strength, losing oxygen by the second. He’s not ready for it, he doesn’t want it, he’s terrified, he needs to wake up—

Anakin slams his head back against the wall hard enough to make himself bleed and gasps raggedly as he loses his grip on everything, shutting his eyes tight with his fist shoved up against his teeth. Nothing exists at all anymore but the swirling typhoon that continues raging forth. Beyond purgatory, and then beyond heaven.

When you finally do manage to find the absolute peak of your climb, he’s sure he all but blacks out with it.

It’s pure, blinding rapture on all levels—physical, metaphysical, whatever else exists after that. It surges up with razor-sharp claws of merciless ecstasy and he’s just not equipped to experience anything anywhere close to it. The connection between your minds thrums and sparks violently; Anakin feels the way your body practically soars over top of the pleasure while his is just being ruthlessly pummeled into the ground by it. He’s not meant to handle this, he literally wasn’t made to survive the devastating anomaly—it’s as wicked and excruciating as it is dazzling, and he wonders if he’ll ever truly be able to come back from it.

Eventually, Anakin manages to find his way back to himself. Eventually.

His cock is throbbing, that’s the first thing he‘s able to notice. The dirt floor beneath him that somehow feels slightly different than before, the fetal position he’s assuming on top of it, the once sturdy wall now crumbling to dust against his back.

The next thing he notices is the utter, complete mess he made. Blood slowly drips in a line down his neck and more cum than he’s ever felt himself produce before drenches the front of his pants. Anakin slowly blinks his eyes open, trying to fight the vertigo and wondering if he might have a concussion right now. There are cracks and fractures in the ground that branch out from the small crater at his back, and the fire is completely extinguished now, charred logs splintered and strewn about like somebody detonated a bomb in here.

At some point, his gaze drags over towards you, and remarkably, you haven’t moved. Still curled up on your side with your back to him, still breathing slow and steady and undisturbed.

Anakin pants in exhaustion and waits for you to turn over to address him and what he did. There’s no way you’re still asleep, not after what just happened. Anakin couldn’t get through it without sending a giant shockwave through the entire cave and quite literally rupturing the ground beneath him, he’s surprised you even managed to stay in one spot the entire time. He doesn’t know if you feel violated right now and are refusing to acknowledge him, or if it’s just taking as long as he is for your brain to catch up and start functioning again.

That is, until he hears a small snore come from your unmoving body once more.

Anakin blinks.

No. You have to be awake, he figures, moving to prop himself upright and wipe the blood from his neck with the dark sleeve of his robe. There’s no possible way that the orgasm you both shared is actually… normal, no, the sheer power of it had to be influenced by his presence somehow. He must have… increased it, or something. Anakin doesn’t know how, but he knows he must be directly responsible, this had to have been the strongest you’ve ever cum in your life and you just don’t know how to confront him about it right now, so you’re pretending to sleep. Yes, that’s what it is, that’s what it has to be.

He’s not going to check, though. He’s not going to find any lingering energy left within himself to summon and look for the thick darkness of sleep still enveloping you, he’s not going anywhere near your signature right now. No, Anakin is fine just like this, exactly where he is. Instead of verifying or confirming his own understanding, he’ll just be extra confident in it, that’s always worked well for him.

So he just sits back and takes a deep, shuddering breath, feeling like his whole body is weak and trembling with fatigue. Maybe you are asleep, he shrugs. Maybe he’s wrong, and selfish, and an idiot. Or maybe.

Maybe you just like keeping secrets, too.

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #Smut #reader insert #dark anakin #no-droids

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crimsonrae · 3 years

Text

Drowned Desires

Summary: Pirates plunder wasn’t always jewels and gold. Sometimes their bounty was flesh. Captain Cavill had found his treasure in the shape of a feral woman.

Pirate!HenryxOFC

Warning: Kidnapping, coercion, trapped, spanking, ultimatums, dry humping, masturbation. Dark Themes below. read at your own risk.

A/N: I have written and rewritten sections of this several times, but it took nearly deleting it all by accident to get me to post. I hope you all enjoyed.

Drowned Desires

Wooden planks whined and groaned as waves licked and lapped at the ship's underbelly. It was a familiar tune, as much as the heavy thumps of feet upon the deck, the clash of swords, and the cries of men – so familiar that the Captain heard none of it as he perused the papers and trinkets hidden away in the desk of his now fallen counterpart.

His men never understood his predilection for ship diaries and official correspondence, not when there were shinier prizes at hand. Yet, he understood what they did not...information would always fetch a far higher price than any piece of jewelry – not that he didn’t take his share of that too.

A faint smirk spread lazily across his lips as he drew his finger across beautifully inked letters that denoted the mark of nobility. His mind already hungered for the letter's contents – for what could nobility want in the Caribbean wild?

“Captain!” Sapphire-iced eyes flicked to the cabin door with disinterest before returning to his venture, “Captain!”

With a roaring slam, the door flew open to reveal his first mate, but he was not alone. A wild maelstrom of silk impressively blocked the large man from view as guttural grunts and screams filled the cabin.

Henry raised an innocuous brow as he watched the virulent struggle, silently amused by the brief glimpses of frustration on Brooks’s face as he maintained his hold on what Henry could only assume was a feral girl.

“Be quiet!” Brooks barked, finally having enough as he shoved the girl to the ground. His bulky frame took up the entirety of the cabin’s exit as he glared almost mutinously at his captain.

Henry licked his lip and smirked before peering curiously over the edge of the wide desk to the sprawled form below. A mass of hair flipped back to reveal a startlingly beautiful and mature face. Unbidden, lust stirred within his veins.

Not a girl, then. A woman.

A very angry woman, Henry mused as he sat back and stared at his first mate, “Is there a reason why she’s not locked in the stores with the others?”

“She ripped Thatcher’s ear clear off, Captain. He’s demanding recompense.” Brooks intoned wearily as he kept a watchful eye on the now oddly quiet woman.

Henry’s brow arched higher, if possible, as again he leaned over the desk to take in the fallen woman. She was paying him no mind, having come to her knees. Her eyes shifted about the room as if looking for an exit or a weapon. It was then that Henry was able to note the faint glimpse of red staining her skin – not on her hands, but her neck and mouth. It wasn’t hard to deduce what Thatcher had attempted that had cost him his ear.

“I take it young Mr. Thatcher, is currently being attended to which is why he’s not here to plead his case.” Henry murmured, as he took in the long line of her throat and the gentle swells that teased the hem of her bodice. Blood had stained her flesh here too, but he found his cock twitching despite her dishevelment. He could see why Thatcher had chosen her.

“Aye, Captain.”

“And what say you, woman?” Henry queried lightly, smirking as her gaze finally alighted on him. Wariness, fury, and a touch of fear – but not as much as he expected, “Should I let Thatcher have his pound of flesh?”

She said nothing, her fine eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. It made him want to grin. How had Thatcher missed the fire she emanated? But then, the deckhand was not the brightest of his crew.

Henry tilted his head, “Oh, don’t play mute now. Not after the ruckus of your entry.”

He barely had the words out when something wet hit his cheek. If it were possible the entire cabin stilled, even the creaking of the ship had quieted. The captain’s amusement with the situation had disappeared as he stoically wiped the spittle from his person.

“I suppose I should be grateful to still have my ear.” He muttered with deceptive gentleness as he leveled a cold stare onto the woman. She stiffened in preparation of an attack, but none came as his attention turned back to his first mate, “Leave us.”

There was a moment of hesitation before the cabin door swung shut with as decorous a roar as it had been opened. To the woman still kneeled on the floor, it was almost like hearing a nail pounded into her coffin. There was little point in trying to leave. She would merely end up on the deck with the savage crew that had taken the ship hostage. If she were lucky then she might make it to the water, but that was only a slower death.

“What’s your name?” His words were measured and deliberate, “And do not spit at me again lest you wish to feel the back of my hand.”

“...Mary.” She muttered after a moment.

Henry snorted, her pause had given her away, “Too pious a name for you. Try again.”

She huffed indignantly, but acquiesced, “Elowyn. Elowyn O’Dara.”

There was a faint lilt to her voice that agreed with her name, though even this moniker seemed too tame for her spirit, “Ms. O’Dara, why aren’t you locked in the stores with the other passengers?”

If eyes were daggers, he’d be dead as her glare became pointed, “Your man already told you.”

“Surely, you don’t simply have a predilection for tearing off ears – or shall I say a taste.” He prodded, wanting his suspicions confirmed, “What exactly provoked you?”

“He looked at me funny.” Elowyn hissed bitingly.

Henry pursed his lips, a reproach on the tip of his tongue when better sense prevailed him. Despite the grand silks she wore, her gown was ill-fitted. The sleeve came within a breath of falling off her shoulder and her speech while refined was far blunter than any gentlewoman. He had a new suspicion about his little spitfire.

“Is that all it takes?” Henry taunted as he towered over her. Well aware that her dangerous mouth was aligned to an appendage far more valuable than an ear. In fact, it was the image of her mouth and that appendage which enticed him to draw closer still, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze and avoid undue embarrassment. He swore that he could feel her breath even through the thick leather of his trousers.

Elowyn growled, though the flush of her cheeks belied any indifference, “Why should it take more?”

“I think it would take more.” He stated quietly. His finger curled under her chin and urged her to stand. He wanted the full measure of her. Not the defiant victim she had curled herself into.

The fabric of her gown swished and whispered as it draped around her body like a protective cloak. Her eyes sparkled wildly at him, warily – like twin pillar flames of a candelabra. He had no doubt that she would attack him as fervently as she had his man if he were to push his luck. He was tempted to try anyway...but a greater desire lurked in his heart.

She would bend to him first.

He let his finger trail down the line of her throat as he kept his gaze locked with hers, taking in every twitch and tremble that she tried so valiantly to hide. His touch smoothed across her shoulder, warm and chafing against her delicate flesh until, at last, he reached that clinging hem.

Almost thoughtfully, he traced that strained neckline, “Tell me, did your mistress press you into her dress to hide, or have you been trying to pass yourself off as a gentle lady for your voyage? Graces and airs do open many doors.”

Elowyn stilled as his words took home, “I’ve no idea of what you speak.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Henry hummed knowingly, “A good liar you are not, Ms. O’Dara. Which makes me inclined to think you were pressed into this gown. However, like recognizes like and I think I’ve merely unsettled you.”

“The devil would be unsettled by you.” She murmured; heat resonated through her bosom as his fingers hovered over her swells, but he didn’t touch... just teased.

He grinned roguishly, amused by her scorn, “Either way... it does beg the question, how are you going to keep yourself from ruin? Even if you leave my presence – and that of my crew’s untouched – you’re still caught in something of a predicament, lass.”

Confusion furrowed her brow at his words and only deepened as he stepped away from her to lean against the ornate desk behind him. Smug and insufferable it galled her to ask after his meaning, “The only predicament I’ll have is giving the navy a name for the swine that dared board this ship.”

Henry barked a sharp laugh before giving a mocking bow, “Why Captain Henry Cavill at your service, milady? But do you honestly think that if I were to return you to the stores below that assumptions wouldn’t be made?”

Elowyn’s lips pursed, a silent refusal to entertain his inquiry. It only delighted him.

“You’ve been gone too long, lass. They know why Ole Thatch took you. Probably already assume that you’re dead. And let’s say you were pressed into this gown by your mistress... Loyal though you were, what use does she have for a spoiled maid? Best to send you on your way. And if you are a gentlewoman, word of your ruin will reach all and sundry before the ship is even done being berthed. No hoity-toity wealthy gentleman will look at you twice. All your prospects gone.”

Her cheeks were scarlet with humiliation, and she gritted her teeth as she scolded him, “Does this please you? These cruel games? I demand to be taken back to the stores.”

His eyes twinkled mirthfully, “Oh that’s it, Luv. Not bad for a gentlewoman, but you should tremble a little more to sell it.”

She barely bit back a snarl, even as her body moved without permission. To the surprise of both Henry and Elowyn, her slim hand snatched the pistol tucked into his belt and had it pressed under his chin before either could blink.

“Get. Off. This. Ship.” She sniped, hand minutely trembling as she stared straight into his now unimpressed eyes.

Outside the sounds of battle and the thumping of steps had dwindled to a steady few. His crew had overwhelmed the other and were taking what ever they could find back to the Kalliope. His time aboard was limited anyway... but still, it wouldn’t do to have this slip of a girl think she gained the upper hand. No longer was he willing to see her submit, but he would see her pride broken.

It was time he acted like a pirate.

“I intend to.” He murmured.

It wasn’t what she had expected him to say, and her moment of bafflement worked to his advantage as he ducked down and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed in much the same way she had in entering the room.

He heard the soft click of his gun and grinned when she comprehended that there was no bullet to be shot. He had used his powder on boarding, his pistol now a pretty decoration for his ruthless image. Her screams became even more enraged.

He chuckled and ignored her pounding fists to his back as he stepped out to the deck, “Brooks!”

His steadfast first mate appeared with nary a word and a raised brow. Yet, Henry knew he wouldn’t ask the question dancing on his tongue, “Ms. O’Dara will be joining us. See to it that the rudder of this ship is disengaged and gather the men back aboard Kal. I want to be sailing with the wind within the hour.”

“Aye, Captain.”

No further words were spoken nor needed between the two though that hardly stopped the squalling of the harridan thrashing his back. Grunting in frustration, he crossed the boarding ramp in two steps as his palm placed a resound slap onto Elowyn’s wriggling rump. A silent warning to be still which she did not heed.

“Put me down!”

It must have been the hundredth time she had shrieked this, but as Henry crossed the threshold of his cabin he decided to finally obey, “Very well.”

Grim amusement touched his lips as he tossed her onto his bed, her skirts flew wild, and he caught a tempting glimpse of the thin cotton of her bloomers. Those would not last long, like the whores of Nassau she would learn to stay bare beneath those skirts.

Ever defiant, Elowyn flew up from her supine position and slid from the bed before he could blink. Her speed was impressive, but she was not fast enough to beat the closing of the door as the lock clicked into place. Smirking, Henry seized the bottle of whiskey from the corner of his desk as he fell languidly into his chair to watch the despairing storm that descended upon his captive.

Elowyn yanked heartily on the handle, a torrent of panic and anger spurning her heart. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she was furious to find a sob pulling at her throat as the sands counting down her freedom quickly dwindled. She could not be trapped here. It simply was not to be born.

All the while, Elowyn could feel his gaze burn into her back. Not for the first time her stomach clenched under the weight of his attention. She detested the stirrings of lust his visage had enticed; his quiet perusal of her body had done much to set a simmering awareness along her skin that could only be calmed by the touch of another.

She slammed her palm against the hardwood of the door as her head became bowed with defeat.

“I am no one’s whore.” Her voice hoarse from her screams broke the expectant silence.

For a moment, the captain wondered if she could read minds. However, the longer he was in her presence the more he thought she was an innocent maid... if only her protest had not been so despondent. Tired. Bitter. As if this was a situation not uncommon.

“Aren’t you?” The words were spoken with seemingly little thought as Henry took a light swig from his bottle. A pleasantly harsh warmth burned over his tongue and down his throat as the dark liquid sought out his blood.

A low snarl emanated from her, and Henry watched curiously as she whirled to face him. His breath was stolen by the fury in her watery gaze. Her lips had curled back into a sneer, and she stood defiant. Wrathful, proud, and stunning. She was Circe reborn.

The entertained glint that shined in the face of her rage, merely cemented her ire as she strode across the room with the full command of a Goddess. She let the dress fall from her shoulders to twist and drown around her torso before falling lost to the floor. She trod on it and over it with little care.

Henry devoured the view of her corset and bloomers. Her curves were more pronounced with the clinging material of her undergarments and yet not enough. He’d rather see her bare.

Elowyn pointedly ignored the hunger of his countenance and snatched the whiskey from his hand. Her throat bobbed deliciously as she downed one mouthful and then two before throwing the bottle at the very door she longed to escape through.

A sharp thunk and the glittering clatter of shattered glass echoed through the cabin. Henry arched a brow in mild disappointment, “That was a very expensive bottle.”

“That I’m sure you stole.” Elowyn countered as she moved to straddle his lap. Her gaze was taunting as her fingers laced into the collar of his shirt, “Is this what you wanted, Captain?

He hummed, amused by her show of bravado, and respected her attempt at taking control, but he could see the quivering girl just below the surface. He delved his hands beneath the hem of her corset, gliding calloused fingers around the satin flesh of her waist. Goosebumps raised like waves in a storm at his touch.

A sharp gasp left Elowyn’s throat as one hand slid down beneath her bloomers to grasp the firm muscle of her bottom and squeeze. It was like lightning had been released across her hide. Visceral mordant liquid pooled in her loins, and she tried not to squirm. She didn’t want him to see how affected she truly was, even as evidence blossomed across the flimsy material guarding her.

Yet, as she held his dark stare, she swore that the staccato beating of her heart had given her away. A cool thrill shivered across her skin, only to be chased by a flaming warmth that she could not control. Beneath the rough cotton of her corset, her nipples puckered and pebbled, and she felt a shameful heat spread over her breasts to her collar and up her neck.

He hadn’t even kissed her.

He leant forward, teasingly drawing his lips along the shell of her ear. Henry grinned at the small shivering whimper that spilled from her lips at such an act. He had to wonder if she was worried that he would do to her what she had done to Thatch. Tauntingly, his tongue shot out and suckled her delicate lobe into his mouth as her knuckles whitened to match his collar.

She mewled prettily and arched into his hold, unable to voice the word stop. He wouldn’t have, even if she begged.

He lathed attention to her sensitive appendage for another few seconds before gently nipping the tender flesh, “I think this what you wanted, lass.”

She swallowed tightly and tried to bring forth the dispassionate woman that had brought her to his lap, “No.”

“No?” Henry almost sang, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. He nuzzled the plush swell of her cheek, breathing a kiss to the corner of her mouth as his fingers made quick work of the laces of her corset. A faint copper taste dazzled his tongue – had she enjoyed the taste of Thatcher’s blood?

Her breath hitched as she felt the boned fabric slide from her bosom. It took every ounce of strength not to fold her arms in and hide. She had tried to out bluff the monster but had goaded him into action instead. Brute violence would not remove her from this situation. She knew this instinctively, and as his bristled cheek chafed against the silk of her neck and chest, Elowyn became uncertain if she wanted to be removed.

Gossamer licks of pleasure pulsated from his rough skimming, and his hot breath ignited a current of desire that made her stomach clench with need. She felt suddenly empty and as his supple lips latched onto her pointed teet, she keened. Unthinkingly, she rocked into his pelvis in a feeble attempt to fill the throbbing void between her legs. Her cunt dripped and twitched needily as he suckled.

Elowyn sputtered and gasped at his forceful pulls, pressing down harder into his lap and ultimately onto his erection. She wasn’t sure when, but her fingers had delved around the bandanna holding back his wild mane as she tried not to fall into his ardent mouth, but she was helpless against his assault. He would devour her.

“Please.” She breathed.

Henry smiled and lightly bit down on her tortured tit, admiring the dark hue her sensitive flesh had garnered from his attentions, before moving his attention to her other breast, “Please, what?”

She arched as he began his attack anew. Her hips coming alive as she undulated frenetically against him. A pressure had started to build, a delicious force stood just out of reach and she just... just needed.

Henry’s strong hands dug into her hips stilling her movements. He knew that she was on the cusp of climax. He could smell the heady scent of her arousal, but such satisfaction would not be had until she took his cock.

Elowyn wailed in frustration, “Please!!”

“Please, what?” He iterated again. His fingers latched onto the seam of her bloomers. One fierce tug would be all he needed to tear her undergarment in two.

Her pride screamed at her to remain silent, but the wanton in her demanded she cave. Elowyn bit her lip as she tried to stave off another plea. Instead, she sought out the lace of his breeches and swiftly freed him of his leather confines.

Henry allowed her this and watched with a jovial grimace as she took in his hidden pistol. Her eyes widen at his size, her thighs clenching over his at the thought of taking him. He would not fit, but he would certainly fill her. She dragged a curious nail over his weeping head, jolting as his manhood twitched and bobbed under her innocent exploration.

He hissed, “Either suck me off, lass, or finish your request. If I must choose what comes next, you will find little pleasure in my actions.”

Her gaze flew up to his, noting the seriousness she found staring back at her. She swallowed tightly, “T-take me.”

A cruel grin twitched at his lips, “Take you where?”

She bristled at his mocking, “Copulate with me, like the pig you are.”

SMACK!

She gasped at the pain that flared through her hind-side and barely refrained from moaning as the reverberation echoed with her desire.

Henry tutted, “Name-calling when you’re begging? Not very gracious. Especially as you were the one to come to me, Luv.”

“Bastard!” She spat and choked on another moan as he assaulted her rear once more.

He grinned, “Enjoy that do you?”

She cursed him again and he laughed, “Should I take the cat and nine tails to you? What a saucy minx you’re turning out to be.”

“I loathe you.” Elowyn murmured through gritted teeth, “What do you want from me?”

He smiled bitingly at her, “Ask nicely and remember my title.”

She growled and tore from his hold as her pride won out for the moment. He watched her with the gaze of a predator as she discarded the last of her garments. She flung herself onto his bed and splayed her legs wide. She would not capitulate to him.

At least not verbally.

Henry’s mouth watered greedily as her nimble little fingers delved and played with her soaked mound. She was playing a very dangerous game. She stroked her sweet little nub with feverish intensity, allowing her moans to fill the cabin like a sonorous symphony. She put on a lovely lurid show and he couldn’t pull his gaze away as she ran a finger along the edge of her cunt, teasing him with a view of her seeping hole. It took little time for her to find that pleasure peak again and even less for him to lose his patience.

In less than three steps he was between her legs, knocking her hands away from her lush garden.

In two breaths, he was poised at her entrance.

In one kiss, he speared her with the intensity of a hunter claiming his prey.

He swallowed her raucous cry and reveled in the silent tear the swam down her cheek as he brutal entrance. Unbridled heat scored up his manhood as her wet cavern suckled him reluctantly to her womb. He had warned her what would happen if he were to choose.

Groaning, he could not still for long and raised his knee for leverage as he began a brutal pace toward release. Despite his harsh embrace, it was not long before her hips met his, seeking salvation from his unrelenting torrent.

Her muscles strained from being split, but the sharp ache was diminished by the relief of being so completely stuffed. Her pride wailed in horror at being proven the whore, but Elowyn cared little. Pleasure scalded and overwhelmed her like a bubbling hot spring.

Henry was everywhere.

Grasping, biting, prodding, and shoving.

He pulled sounds from her throat she had never heard before... but she was no better. Willing, she spread her thighs wider for him, welcoming his passionate tempest as he soundly cast her to the waves of ecstasy.

She cried out fervently as she drowned, and her body clung to him as if it were a buoy. Her walls became a vice, now trapping him to her as she fell victim to her carnal desires, “Captain!”

Henry watched her erupt through half-hooded eyes, captivated by the euphoria that descended upon her. He groaned as her walls clenched even tighter around him, demanding his seed.

He thrust once.

Twice.

Thrice more before he gave in to her delicious demand and came with a roar, filling her to brim as he enjoyed the way his cock spasmed in time with her tremors. Lazily, he pressed a kiss to her temple as she quivered against him.

Elowyn peered up at him with wide eyes, shame seeping into her mien as the weight of her actions crashed down onto her. She tried to cover herself, but Henry refused to let her move. He trapped her wrists above her head as he trapped her stare with his, “You have a choice now, lass. Be a good girl and warm this bed or walk out of this cabin and warm my crew’s. Either way, you’ll be a whore, but whose... well that remains up to you.”

Tears welled as he pulled out of her with a wet plop. Only then could she see the image she painted. Ruined and laid bare before the man who had stolen her as he fixed his trousers and shirt. She hated how little she had resisted him, how much she still wanted him. She had no recourse. He had extracted his pound of flesh as she drowned in her desires.

She would be his whore.

It was then she knew that Captain Henry Cavill wasn’t merely a pirate, he was the devil too.

#Pirate!Henry #AuHenry #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #fanfic #fanfiction #dark theme #Drowned Desires

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