#AND ILL PUT HIM ON A LEASH TOOK ME OUT

[lucygraysboy]

“hm?  what  do  you  mean?”  billy  purses  his  lips  to  keep  from  grinning  goofily,  his  eyes  twinkling  with  amusement  as  they  linger  on  lucy  gray’s  flushed  visage.  she’s  so  genuinely  innocent  that  he  almost  feels  bad  for  having  this  conversation  with  her  in  the  first  place.  “it’s  not  always  easy  to  wait  when  you’re  both  attracted  to  each  other,  and…”  he  pauses,  not  sure  how  to  put  his  thoughts  into  words  without  sounding  like  a  heartless  asshole  to  this  sweet,  angelic  girl  who  clearly  is  more  on  the  naive  side  when  it  comes  to  romance,  “you  don’t  want  to  marry  every  single  person  you  take  into  your  bed.  sometimes  sparks  fly,  but  you  both  know  it’s  only  temporary  and  there’s  no  hard  feelings  when  you  go  your  separate  ways.”  of  course,  he  has  to  think  of  alice  and  how  miserable  he’d  be  if  they  had  to  spend  their  entire  lives  together,  but  he’s  not  the  kind  of  man  who  kisses  and  tells  so  he  doesn’t  bring  her  up  as  an  example.  

“i  really  like  your  way  of  thinking,”  even  if  he  doesn’t  live  by  these  rules  that  are  so  dear  to  her  heart,  “but  what  happens  when  you’ve  already  promised  to  love  each  other  for  life  and  then  it  turns  out  you’re  not  compatible?  i  don’t  think  god  wants  us  to  be  miserable  or  truly  minds  if  we  experiment  before  settling  down.”  shrugging,  he  doesn’t  want  to  say  something  that  will  offend  her,  but  this  perfect  kind  of  love,  where  two  people  wait  to  tie  the  knot  and  then  live  happily  ever  after,  happens  mostly  in  fairytales.  “it  doesn’t  have  to  be  serious,  lucy  gray,  and  just  because  it’s  not  serious  doesn’t  immediately  mean  it’s  reckless.”  a  soft  sigh  escapes  his  lips,  his  gaze  falling  onto  her  hands,  struggling  not  to  look  up  and  marvel  at  these  cute,  burning  cheeks  of  hers.  he’s  not  trying  to  change  her  mind  or  corrupt  her,  but  she  should  know  that  love  comes  in  different  forms  and  sizes.  “and  that’s  perfectly  alright,  feeling  the  way  you’re  feeling.  it’s  okay.  you  don’t  have  to  prove  anything  to  anyone.”  he  doesn’t  want  her  to  worry  there  might  be  something  wrong  with  her,  the  way  he  felt  when  jesse  first  had  a  similar  conversation  with  him,  and  so  he  briefly  rests  his  hand  on  her  knee.  a  gentle  squeeze  to  comfort  her  and  then  it’s  gone,  not  trying  to  be  flirtatious,  just  a  good  friend.  “i’d  say  it’s  the  other  way  ‘round.  it  starts  with  pleasure,”  god,  why  does  this  word  taste  so  strange  on  his  tongue  all  the  sudden?  “and  babies  are  a  bonus.  an  afterthought.”  it  would  be  so  very  awkward  if  pleasure  didn’t  matter,  if  people  only  made  love  when  they  wanted  to  have  a  baby.

“i  won’t  hurt  you,  i  swear  it,”  he  repeats,  using  his  forefinger  to  gently  tilt  her  chin  up  and  make  her  look  him  in  the  eyes  before  taking  her  hands  into  his.  whereas  trust  is  the  most  important  thing  to  her,  this  is  the  most  important  thing  to  him  —  making  sure  the  ones  he  cares  about  know  they  can  rely  on  him  at  all  times  and  feel  safe  around  him.  “my  father  was  a  good  but  weak  man.  it  didn’t  matter  if  he  was  or  wasn’t  there.  he  couldn’t  protect  his  family.  my  ma  could  never  count  on  him.”  why  is  he  telling  her  this?  must  be  these  glossy  eyes  of  hers,  gleaming  in  the  last  rays  of  the  dying  sun,  so  warm  right  before  it  conceals  itself  over  the  horizon.  she  pulls  on  the  strings  of  his  heart  without  even  meaning  to.  “my  stepfather  was  even  worse  ‘cause  he  wasn’t  a  good  man.  he  could  never  hold  a  job  either,  didn’t  have  much  to  his  name,  not  that  it  stopped  him  from  frequent  visits  at  the  local  brothel.  nobody  ever  felt  safe  around  those  men,  not  my  ma,  not  joe…  and  so  i  promised  myself  to  never  be  like  them,  that  i’d  do  everything  in  my  power  to  never  hurt  the  ones  close  to  me.  what  i’m  tryin’  to  say  is  —  you  don’t  have  to  worry,  lucy  gray.  i  really  won’t  hurt  you.”  he  doesn’t  expect  her  to  trust  him  immediately,  knows  it  will  take  time,  but  he’ll  try  his  best  to  make  it  happen  one  day.

“so,  i’m  very  much  ready  to  take  on  this  challenge  and  make  sundance  and  spirit  jealous  of  our  friendship,”  he  laughs  softly,  letting  go  of  her  hands  and  cupping  her  warm  cheek.  his  thumb  caressing  the  skin  beneath  her  eye,  willing  to  wipe  away  any  tears  that  might  roll  down  her  face  and  pretend  he’s  never  seen  a  thing.  “yeah,  it  does,  doesn’t  it?  and  it  stinks  like  a  mammoth’s  fart.”  suddenly,  his  only  job  is  bringing  back  that  dazzling  smile  that  never  fails  to  make  his  heart  miss  a  beat.  “what  do  you  say  i  fix  you  a  bath  and  go  clean  up  the  mess  we’ve  left  in  your  bedroom?”  he  offers,  lowering  his  hand  into  his  lap  when  he  realizes  he  shouldn’t  be  getting  handsy  with  her.  “and  how  long  do  you  think  it  takes  to  grab  a  girl  like  you?  a  split  second  is  all  it  takes,  lucy  gray.”  trying  to  refrain  from  shaking  his  head  as  she  continues  to  rub  lotion  into  his  skin,  he  restores  to  huffing  and  shrugging  his  shoulders.  “you’re  very  welcome.”  giggling  as  her  skilled  fingertips  trail  down  the  side  of  his  face,  tickling  his  skin  and  making  it  tingle,  leaving  it  slightly  flushed.  he  loves  being  pampered  and  so  he  doesn’t  even  try  to  protest  when  she  moves  to  his  hands,  coating  both  of  them  in  this  shiny  substance.  “true,  but  your  birthday  should  be  about  you.”  she’s  so  selfless  that  it  makes  him  wonder…  does  she  ever  put  herself  first?  “that  sounds  like  such  a  fun  day,  very  sweet  of  her  to  care  for  you  like  that.”  he  hopes  maude  ivory  won’t  mind  having  a  helper  around.  “and  there’s  a  lake  nearby?”  he  didn’t  notice,  not  that  it  surprises  him.  he  was,  after  all,  barely  conscious  when  he  got  here.

"why's it gotta happen at all? why can't the two people in the relationship wait on it to happen." lucy gray wonders, not realizing she sounds a little naive on how strong emotions work and how compatibility is important to most people. to her, when she thinks about it, if she really finds herself smitten for someone... it won't bother her how they work in a bedroom. eyes trailing off... well, she doesn't think. that wouldn't matter? right? or would it? a world of confusion blinds her trying to decide. "i do think they abuse god's word. take his word and use it to their awful advantage. but this isn't about those perverts. this is about how men are supposed to wait too, not just the girls of the human race. this is about how some people just find it more special, not rushin' into things. to some... it just sounds more special and beautiful to promise each other to love each other for life before sharin' their bodies. since that seems to be god's opinion." she points out. "what do you mean a good time?" she felt like she might puke her cheeks were burning so viciously, "a good time's watching a band play or going to a party. sharin' yourself with someone is much more serious than that. you just can't trust people like that, be so reckless. unless it just doesn't bother you i guess. but personally, for me, i have to know i can really trust them and that they really mean it when they say they love me." she definitely takes it serious, it's not just something to do recklessly for a good time in her mind. she'd feel like she'd been violated, if she decided to love someone and they left her. let alone expose herself and let them have her in such a vulnerable way. it's a terrible disgusting feeling thinking of it... there might be something wrong with her, she thinks. since apparently it didn't play on everybody's mind like that, like it did hers. "well, it starts with babies primarily. then the other thing secondly. both still are reserved for after marriage, though."

"okay, well that's true. but if you really won't hurt me then we can compete by bein' the best of friends. we'll make the horses and rabbits so jealous, they'll wanna be us." she decides with a giddy smile, since that's what she wanted and still wants to be reassured of... that he won't hurt her. and being told that, well that just strikes a nerve. even if he ends up not even meaning it... being told she won't be hurt by someone made her heart pang before causing emotions to well in the barrels of her honey eyes. she wasn't crying yet, but something of the way he said it made her eyes prick with tears. "gosh, that oil definitely leaves an itchy smell." blaming the oil and cloth being so close to her eyes, she thinks that could be a reasonable excuse in case it looks noticeable that lucy gray now worries about. then he puts the cloth down and closes his eyes which helps. the brunette stays quiet, smearing in lotion with both hands, rubbing it into both of his cheeks softly and then over his chin and forehead– brushing these dark little locks away so the lotion doesn't stick to his fresh clean hair. "i can't help but think you're a little crazy, thinkin' someone got me all in a matter of a minute or two?" she didn't know what he had to be paranoid like that before, because she's never lived a day in his shoes. "but..." as much as that CONFUSED her, brows knitting, "it's sweet. so thank you, for comin' to my rescue." she sheepishly laughed as features softened, truly not understanding his level of paranoia like that. but appreciative. smoothing lotion down his neck with little pats then taking his left hand, rubbing in a small spots of lotion into his skin there too then picking up his right hand, doing the same again. "both are good wishes," she corrects gently, wellbeing of her loved ones and these little things like a picnic and a necklace. "well, maude ivory usually makes it a fun day for me. it used to be my mama, but now it's maude ivory who usually brings me over a pastry and we go to the lake to play all day."

[sunaluv]

hey!!! big big fan! your writing is amazing!

what if you did a you should come get your man but instead make it ‘you should come get your reader’

i just want to see characters get jealous basically lol. hope you’re doing well !!

🗣️getting rid of my drafts, drop some more prompts in my inbox.

Pairings: kaiser, reo

———————

KAISER

as the game ended and the fans started to filter out of the stadium, you hung back waiting for your boyfriend. now that the seating area was almost empty, kaiser could finally talk to you.

he called out to you as he jogged over. “did you enjoy the game, my love?” you took his outstretched hand and climbed onto the field.

“of course I did,” you swung your interlocked hands. “you were amazing as per usual.”

the two of you chatted aimlessly, walking around the field as kaiser started to come down from his post-game high.

"alright, I'm gonna go freshen up and get my stuff," he kissed the back of your hand. "wait for me?"

you nodded, eyeing the man as he vanished down the hall.

"i can feel you staring!" he called without looking back, making you chuckle.

deciding to be useful, you gathered kaisers left belongings off the bench and started to make your way towards the stadium exit.

"you kaiser's girl?" a voice from behind you.

startled, you turned around to see a guy dressed in the ubers uniform. you don't recognise him and you've met all your boyfriend's teammates, so you deduced that this guy is probably a rookie in training.

"that's me," you smiled politely, "can i help you with anything?"

"you sure can help me with something," he smirked, rubbing his chin. "for starters, you can tell me how that egomaniac managed to bag a gorgeous girl like yourself,"

how he managed to both complement you and diss you (indirectly) you found quite fascinating, but you weren't having any of it.

"he was a real sweetheart." emphasis on the sweetheart. "I'm sure if you use a more friendly approach you can get whoever it is your looking for."

the guy clearly didn't seem to get the hint. "so you're into nice guys, huh. why are ya' with michael then. guy's an ass."

"'guy' also thinks you should show a little more respect to your superiors, rookie."

smirking, you turned around to find your knight in shining armour eyeing the rookie with a smirk.

"my fault boss," his attitude was nonchalant. "keep a tight leash on this one though, or else i might get tempted again."

he smirked, trying to barge shoulders with kaiser as he passed, grunting under his breath when he didn't move an inch.

"you should go fight him, defend my honour." you nudged his side once he was out of earshot.

he chortled loudly, "you're such an instigator, I'm not fighting him."

"you'll do it if you love me?" you questioned blinking up at him with innocent eyes. the things you would do you see michael throw hands with someone.

his big hand pushed your face away from him. "ill do you one better and make his training with the ubers unbearable, how does that sound, hmmmm?"

a pout formed on your lips as you sighed. "...ill take it i guess."

REO

the clock has just passed midnight, but the party your boyfriend had invited you to was at its peak. enjoying the buzz of the alcohol that was once in your empty glass, you headed over to the bar.

"hey," you flagged the bartender down, "could i get a refill on this please?

the neon blue lights of the bar made the sparkle in his eye more evident when he caught sight of you.

"whatever the pretty lady wants," he brushed his fingers against yours when taking your glass. "what can i do for you?"

the brief contact and the intense eye contact quickly fought off the oncoming buzz. "the pretty lady is taken, but she is willing to forget about this if she could get a pornstar?" you offered.

"oh you can get a pornstar alright," he winked. "give me a sec, sweetheart."

alarm bells rang in your head as his back was towards you, meaning your glass was out of sight.

there was no way in hell you were gonna drink whatever he put in front of you.

he returned a short while after, sliding your drink across the bar.

"you know, if you wanted, i could give you another pornstar you'll really enjoy." he pulled back your glass when you reached out for it.

"no thanks. boyfriend." your smile came tight and fake.

"come onnnn, princess," he smiled wider. "aren't you having so much fun at this party? spend the night with me and i can make sure you can get into all the exclusive parties you want."

"she'll pass." came mikage's voice from your side. he wrapped an arm around you, in an attempt to smooth your tense muscles as he dragged the glass back over with two fingers.

the bartender's face hardened, "the lady can speak for herself, thanks bro."

"m' not your bro." reo's brows furrowed. "you're making my girl uncomfortable, did you put anything in her drink?"

the guy shook his head wordlessly, prompting reo to sip the glass.

"wait, what if-"

"don't worry, sweetheart," his hand dropped to stroke your thigh comfortingly. "it's clean, but I'm sorry this happened to you. i should've noticed sooner."

you relaxed with his touch, "it's not your fault, reo. sometimes people can't handle rejection."

"i'm right here ya know?"

two pairs of eyes stared the guy down, one neutral, one daring.

rolling his eyes, mikage turned to face the guy. "between you and me, you might need to find another bribe to pull ladies with because i can tell you now this will be the last gig you'll ever do."

the guy gulped under reo's intense gaze.

"alright man, in understand the ladys' taken, you don't need to go threatening my job."

"you threatened your won job once you tried it with her,"

you placed a hand on his arm as a reminder to be rational.

"i'm sorry baby," he pecked your forehead. "you ready to go home?"

you nodded.

[walosiiii]

bad kitty...

pairing :: jealous dom!shen quanrui x sub brat!male reader

genre :: smut

tw :: top!ricky, 10th member!reader, unprotected sex ( remember to use protection ), pet play, sir/master kink, degradation, slight breeding kink, mentions of zhang hao x male reder, use of the words "slut" "whore and "good boy", hair pulling, overstimulation, ricky fucking the reader till he cant speak, aftercare

it was supposed to be a joke.

you were filming a variety show with your members, you being bored decided to tease hao while the other members were talking about god knows what, touching his thigh, holding his head. however you didnt know the whole time ricky was watching from the sidelines, eyes darkening when he saw the scene unfold in front of him. you didn't even notice his glare until the filming was over and you guys were back at the dorms, you tried to give a quick goodbye to hao and the others however before you could say anything you were dragged into you and rickys shared dorm.

he threw you onto the bed "you think youre funny, huh?" he said, glaring down at you, you were about to respond when you were interrupted, "don't talk" he commanded. "clothes off now", "w-what" you said looking down "did i stutter y/n" you scrambled to take off your clothes, throwing them onto the floor and looking back at him, he was just staring at you, eyes dark. "turn around and get on your hands and knees" he ordered, "ricky i-" he cut you off grabbing a fist full of your hair yanking your face towards him, "is that my name?" he said "n-no sir" he let your hair go and went into your guys closet grabbing a box, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed, "i saw what you were doing" he said voice deep. "flirting with him, acting like a whore" he stoped a minute "did i teach my kitty to be a whore?" he said opening the box and getting out a collar and a leash.

 "no not the collar, ill be a good boy i promise" you pleaded however this didnt stop him from putting it on you, yanking on it making you choke a bit, "i think my kitty needs to be reminded who they belong to"

he grabbed your waist flipping you over, he started by kissing all over your neck leaving bites all over, slowly going lower, he sucked on your nipples making them hard, "s-sir please" you moaned, he bit down harshly on one making you let out a small yelp, he started kissing down your stomach, avoiding your cock.

"sir, i need you" you said, he let out a laugh "you need me huh?" he said "well maybe you shouldve thought about that before whoring yourself out for some cock" he slapped your cock with his hand smiling when he saw you flinch and let out a sob, "maybe if you beg ill fuck you" he said, you were desperate "please, please sir fuck me, please, im yours" you said starting to cry, he smiled grabbing the lube squirting some on his fingers and spreading your legs, rubbing around your hole. he stuck a finger in, "such a whore, so hard for me, are you master's little whore?" he asked, "please sir just fuck me, please" you cried, ignoring his words, he took his finger out pulling the leash once again making you choke, "answer the fucking question" he yelled "yes sir im a whore, im master's little slut" you cried, tears rolling down your cheeks, "that's a good boy" he said.

he took his clothes off pumping his cock a few times, he took the lube squirting more before lathering it on his cock, after hes done he then slips his finger back in your hole this time adding another.

he fingered you open, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, after a few minutes he pulled his fingers out, he put his cock up to your hole, teasing the tip. he slowly pushed in, bottoming out. he stayed still waiting for a moment for you to adjust, after a few seconds he started moving. going fast and hard, making sure you could feel him everywhere, the feeling of the collar on your neck was overwhelming.

 "sir take the collar off it hurts, ill be a good boy p-promise!" you said crying, "maybe next time kitty" he said thrusting hard into your hole, you let out a moan.

he wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing, "im gonna cum" you said, "cum for your master" he said pulling on the leash, you came letting out a moan and tears falling down your face, you tightened around him, "gonna fill my kitty with my cum, make everyone know who he belongs to" he said fucking into you even harder, you were overstimulated, sobbing and whimpering. "im gonna cum in you, breed my slut" he moaned. after a few seconds he was cumming in you, that didnt stop him from pounding into your hole ruthlessly ignoring your pleads and sobs.

after a minute he was cumming again, you were so overstimulated, so sensitive. he continued thrusting grabbing your oversensitive cock jerking it harshley, "sir its too much, its too much, please sir stop" you cried. after a few thrusts you came again, it hurt, tears streaming down your face. "good boy" ricky said "good kitty" he kissed your forehead, slowing his pace down until he finally stopped. 

he took his cock out of your hole, watching the cum leak out, you were exhausted. "y/n are you ok?" he asked, you were quiet, "hey its ok" he said taking off the collar, he kissed you passionately, "can you sit for me?" he asked, you did what he asked, "i-i" you couldnt speak, "it's ok, it's ok. how about a bath and we can cuddle" he suggested, you just nodded, he got up picking you up bridal style and taking you to the bathroom and starting a bath, putting you down in it. him following in soon after.

little did you know the whole time hao was in his room playing with himself to your moans and pleads, wishing it was him who was causing you to cry, and not ricky.

( 0.9k )

©jackielynn

[signfromeywa]

AUNGIA TA EYWA (A SIGN FROM EYWA)

Chapter 04: Conversation with Turner

Description:

Anastasia Novak is a behavioural scientist tasked with socializing a captive Na'vi on behalf of the RDA. The longer she works with the Na'vi and the closer she gets to him, the more she has to rethink everything she thought she knew and redefine her morals and values. Can she just carry on like this, or will she follow her heart?

Content: Rating +18, Avatar fanfiction, human x Na'vi ship, Na'vi captured

Characters: Human OCs: Anastasia Novak, Steven Turner, Patra// Na'vi OCs: Ean'tu,

Word Count: 3914

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❗️English is not my native language! I apologize very much if it reads a bit bumpy here and there.

I'm a German author and this is the first time I've tried to translate a story I'm working on into English and upload it. I still hope you enjoy it.❗

Ana cautiously approached the Na'vi. The hand with which she held the leather leash tensed. She pressed her lips together guiltily, but knew that it was necessary. But would Ean'tu understand? She didn't want to lead him on a leash like an animal, she already realized that he wasn't an animal, but all this was necessary to lead him to the sanatorium. The warm red eyes looked at her. He seemed to be waiting. Ana had to somehow explain to him what she was going to do, despite the language barrier.She lifted her right hand, with which she was holding the collar, and held it out to Ean'tu.

"I have to put it on you." she said softly and in a warm tone of voice.The Na'vi looked at her and then pointed to the electric collar he was wearing."Yes, exactly," Ana nodded in agreement. "Just like your other collar."

For a brief moment, Ean'tu did nothing, but then his look became sad and his attitude more defensive again. He didn't want to wear the collar. He probably didn't even want to wear the collar he was currently wearing. It symbolized his captivity and caused him pain whenever he didn't do what the humans wanted him to do.Ana looked at him sadly. He was so cornered, he seemed scared and broken. She didn't want to be a part of his pain, but rather a friend who was there for him. Ana had no ill intentions. To prove this to him, she held the collar to her own neck to show him once again what she was up to and that it didn't hurt. But even after that, he seemed defensively passive. He wouldn't put the collar on and, to be honest, Ana didn't want to force him.

"Rutxe rä'ä" said Ean'tu very quietly. Ana had the feeling it was almost a plea. No further words were needed. She could sense that the Na'vi was uncomfortable, the reluctance and the tension he felt.Slowly, she placed the leash, like collar, on the small side table, still looking into his eyes. She could immediately see that his gaze softened and he took a deep breath. He obviously seemed relieved. Ana had solved that problem, but faced a new one. She had proved to Ean'tu that he could trust her, but how would she explain it to Turner? Her colleague was standing outside and would have no understanding for the situation and especially Ean'tu's feelings.She would have to deal with that in a moment. Because it was time for them to go into the sanatorium. The corridors had been sealed off and evacuated. Everything had to happen quickly now so that everyone could go about their business again soon. But as long as everything was sealed off, that wasn't possible. And nothing would open as soon as Ean'tu didn't go over there.

She cautiously approached the Na'vi again, without a leash, and this time he was very calm and allowed her to get close. Ana carefully took Ean'tu's hand and stroked it with her thumb. His hand was heavy and so much bigger.

"You have to come with me. Trust me... I'll take you to a place where you can rest." Once again, Ana spoke to Ean'tu slowly and clearly. She felt so connected to him that she sometimes forgot that he didn't speak a word of English. He didn't understand anything she said and yet she always felt the need to talk to him.In response, Ean'tu clasped her hand and smiled weakly at her. He certainly didn't seem to understand what exactly she was up to, but he was familiar with the concept of holding hands.Ana looked to her right at the window behind which Turner was standing, visibly confused. He pointed to the collar again and then to his own neck, as if he were putting it on imaginatively to make her understand that she should put it on Ean'tu.

But to be honest, she was glad that Ean'tu refused the leash, so Ana didn't really have to walk through the complex with him like that. That was too degrading for Ean'tu. She hadn't really wanted that, but she hadn't dared to refuse Turner's measures just a moment ago. Now, however, she had a good reason not to use it, the Na'vi would not allow it.She gently pulled on Ean'tu's hand to pull him to his feet. He understood the gesture and stood up. "Come with me." Ana smiled at him, then led the way. Ean'tu actually followed her, luckily for her.In front of the glass, she could see Turner gesticulating strongly, waving his arms, his expression confused. His mouth formed a 'What are you doing?With Ean'tu by the hand, which she squeezed tensely, she walked through the airlock and removed the mask. The Na'vi tensed, squeezed her hand tighter and began to back away, almost as if he wanted to hide behind Ana, from Turner. He was obviously afraid of Turner. Ana stroked the big blue hand to calm him down.

"What are you doing?" Turner backed away as well. "You can't seriously be planning to lead him by the hand through the base!"

"But that's exactly what I'm planning," said Ana firmly. "It really makes no difference whether I have him on a lead or by hand. The leash certainly wouldn't have stopped him any more than me holding him by the hand."

"You do realize that if we give him an electric shock, you'll get it too? I thought you would have learned something from the last incident Novak!"

"What am I supposed to do? He doesn't want to put the leash on and I don't want to make him angry now. Because then we can forget our plan."

"I shouldn't have agreed to your plan in the first place, how insane." Turner rubbed his nose with his index finger and thumb.

"It's too late now anyway, let's go through with it, see." She pointed at Ean'tu, who was standing behind Ana, his tail whipping back and forth. "Right now he doesn't seem aggressive and I even get to hold his hand, so let's use it and bring him over."

Mr. Turner hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "You're crazy lady." "I get that a lot."

"Come on, let's go." He radioed that they were on their way now. Ana turned to Ean'tu one last time. "Relax, I'm with you." She gave him another smile and tried to reassure him. Then she started walking.

The heavy door of the isolation ward opened and gave way to the long corridors that somehow connected all the wards. As they walked off together, the Na'vi always walked very close to Ana. She had to keep her arm raised to reach his hand. It looked as if Ean'tu had a small child on his hand, at least that's what the difference in size made it seem like. As she walked, Ana could feel him getting closer and closer to her, the steel walls and floors seemed uncomfortable and intimidating. His footsteps sounded heavy on the iron floor. Ean'tu made no move to break free or react aggressively. He was far too frightened for that.

Turner walked ahead and behind them two soldiers, heavily armed, walked after them. Alert, ready to defend themselves immediately against Ean'tu. Ana was very uncomfortable knowing that there were armed people following her.

After what felt like a very unpleasant, tense eternity, they finally arrived at the sanatorium. Behind the windows, along the corridor, onlookers were pressing their noses flat. Ana was just glad to have it all behind her. It wasn't just bad for her, it was even worse for Ean'tu. At least he would soon have the chance to rest after everything that had happened.The large heavy doors to the sanatorium opened and let them into the ward. Turner immediately received a radio message and as they entered the station, the station door sealed itself. Ean'tu turned around, startled by the sound, and then looked almost desperately at Ana. There was so much she would have liked to say to Ean'tu right now, but this was not the right time. Instead, she stroked his hand lovingly. That would have to do for now and she hoped the trust the Na'vi seemed to have in her would be enough.

Turner ended the conversation over the radio. "Come on Novak, this way."

He went ahead and she followed him with Ean'tu. The station had a distinctly scientific feel to it. To the right and left, Ana saw terrariums with plants and animals. Lots of technical equipment and panels, scientists' workstations. Ean'tu also looked around uncertainly. He would certainly recognize many of the animals and plants. They entered a sealed-off area, which had to be unlocked especially for them so that they could enter through the large gates. Behind it was a large, sterile-looking white room, in front of which was a pane of glass. As before, there was an airlock to enter the room. Next to it was another room that you could look into through a pane of glass. Between the two rooms was a corridor that led somewhere. But it was too dark to see anything. On the wall opposite the rooms were desks, computers, control panels and screens displaying all kinds of information.

"That's the one from Sky." Turner pointed to the room on the left.When she got closer, Ana thought it looked like a huge terrarium. But the contents surprised her. It looked like a very simple hospital room. There was a bed in it, with what she recognized as a beanbag in the corner. "Is that a bed?" she asked in astonishment, as it was exactly the right size for Ean'tu.

"Yes." he replied curtly. "We'll set up the enclosure as quickly as possible so that he can return to his enclosure soon. Until then, this will have to do. He can recover from his injuries here."

Ana was still staring at the room in disbelief when a mask was pressed into her hand. "You still have to bring him in."

That brought her out of her thoughts. "Yes, of course."

She quickly put on the mask and walked through the airlock into the room with Ean'tu by her hand. The bright white light, like in the isolation ward, blinded them both for a brief moment. It didn't help that the floor and walls were also white. Ana blinked a few times until her eyes finally adjusted to the light.

"We made it." she then said and turned to Ean'tu with a smile. But her smile faded when she saw the sad look on his face. True, there was no reason to be happy. They had only made it from one prison to the next. "I'm sorry." she apologized quietly.

Ana knew that she wasn't personally responsible for his suffering, she hadn't captured him and she wasn't the one who had locked him up again. He and she were both trapped in a large corporation, each in their own way.Ean'tu just stood in the room and didn't move. Ana couldn't stand by and watch this, she had to do something. So she touched him gently so that he looked at her and pointed to the bed. When he still didn't really respond to her, she went to the bed and sat down on it. It wasn't the softest thing she had ever sat on, but it was fine. "Don't you want to take a look?"

The Na'vi hesitated for a moment, but then he came over to her and carefully touched the mattress. He gave it a little squeeze. Surprised by it's softness, he looked at Ana. As if he almost wanted to say, 'did you see that?'

Ana smiled. "Come, sit down." She patted the bed next to her and gestured for him to sit next to her. He still didn't understand a word, but he seemed to understand the gesture. Carefully, he sat down next to her.

"Hewne..." he said quietly. She would have loved to know what he had said, which finally made her want to teach him at least some English. She wasn't a linguist and it wasn't her area of expertise at all, but Ana was by no means a dummy. She would look up some information on the methodology and then just do her best. Once Ean'tu and she understood each other and could talk to each other, it would be easier for them to trust each other. That was her new plan. The next step.For now, she had to leave Ean'tu alone, even if she wouldn't be far. Ana had no intention of leaving him here unsupervised, he needed a person to care for him and she wanted to make sure that everything was in order here. There was something wrong with this sanatorium, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"I have to go now." She looked at Ean'tu and he returned her gaze. Then she stood up and he seemed to sense that she wanted to leave, his breathing became more unsteady and his tail began to twitch nervously again. "I'm not far, right here in front of the glass. I'll stay at the station."Ana pointed into the room, behind the glass, where her colleague stood and two soldiers. Ean'tu pressed his lips together, but didn't seem to say or do anything else.

After a brief last hesitation, she detached herself from the Na'vi and took the path through the airlock to leave the separated area of Ean'tu. He looked after her through the glass.

Ana had only just passed through the airlock when Turner approached her, she could see in his gaze that he seemed to have many questions. "You have some explaining to do Novak."

"Yes, I think it's time that we talk." Ana took off her mask. "When we're between us, I'll share the results of my observations with you." "All right, let's do that. I'm going to get us some coffee first, we've got a lot of paperwork to do." Turner went to the guards, exchanged a few words with them and left the station.

"Ma'am, we'd leave you alone now. You have an emergency button back here." The soldier pointed to a square glass device with a button behind it. "If you press it, a unit will move in and help you if there's a dangerous situation." Then both soldiers left, leaving Ana alone in the room, except for Ean'tu, who was sitting behind the glass in the isolated room.

Tired, she stroked her face and walked towards the desks with the many screens. A lot of technical information was gathered on the displays and digital documents about the Na'vi who had been transferred here. She leaned on the desk and clicked through the information, much of it password protected and she hoped Turner had access.Her gaze glanced at Ean'tu, who was still sitting lethargically on the bed, not moving. The sight made her stomach tighten. Everything about this seemed completely twisted. The room, the ward, the way he was being treated. Suddenly Ana no longer felt like a behavioral scientist, an animal whisperer, as they liked to call her, but like a creepy alien scientist who was experimenting on the life forms living on a foreign planet. But that was not what she wanted, but what the place and the circumstances made of her. Inwardly, she promised herself that she would make it up to him. She would fight to make his circumstances better.

On the desk were a pair of formal applications and completed information sheets. Ana dropped onto the desk chair and began to read through the documents, recognizing Turner's handwriting. It was quiet for a while and only the quiet whirring of the ventilation systems, which were necessary due to the lack of windows, filled the room, then she heard the large door of the station opening and looked up from the paper. It was Turner with two coffee cups.

"My goodness, it's hard to get coffee in this ward. I think I'll take my coffee machine to our ward so we can make our own." He came over to her and put a cup on Ana's desk.

"Thank you. Are we allowed to do that?" Ana took the cup and warmed her hands on it.

"There's no request to make first, anyway." Turner grinned and took a sip. "So Miss Novak, let's talk. I've been watching you and this Na'vi for a while now. I know you're clearly hiding something from me." Turner pulled a desk chair over to Ana and sat down next to her.

"I'll be happy to tell you everything, but for now you have to make sure it stays between us."

"I promise you, if you haven't broken any internal company rules, it will remain our secret." he assured.

"All right, I could really use your help, to be honest." Ana cleared her throat and took a small sip of coffee, it only tasted of water. "I have reason to believe that Sky is conscious and has humanoid intelligence. To be clear, I don't think he's an animal, but rather has human intelligence."

Turner was just about to take a sip of coffee when he faltered with his mouth open and took a while to find the right words. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, that's a bit more complex, but as a behavioral scientist, I can see the difference, of course. In addition, Sky is perfectly capable of learning language and speaks its own language. I assume a language that the species speaks among themselves," she explained. "He talked to you?"

"Not only that, but although I had to admit I didn't understand the language, he even told me his name."

Completely overwhelmed, Turner put his cup down on the desk. The information was working inside him."And what is Sky's name, so what name did he tell you?"

"Ean'tu." Ana reported. "You know, there's so much more I need to find out, so I want to teach Ean'tu our language. If he understands English, it will be much easier to connect with him. I just need an ally I can rely on while I'm with Ean'tu." Ana didn't dare tell Turner that she knew a lot more because she had this secret contact, but in her eyes it wasn't important for their cooperation.Turner seemed to be sorting out what Ana had said in his head.

Then he thought about it and touched his chin thoughtfully. "Do you think that's what our boss intended?"

"I have a hunch... to be honest, I think the others are fully aware that the Na'vi are an intelligent people..." Ana admitted and watched how Turner reacted. Hopefully he wouldn't think she was a conspiracy theorist.

"So you think it's common knowledge in research and that only our base doesn't know about it?"

"Well, I can't say who knows about it or not, but you and I aren't really researchers, more zookeepers. So we just don't get the information. But think about it. All the rooms where the Na'vi were treated had technology and equipment appropriate to their size. Not for humans in any case. I don't know what that means, but that's not my point. I just want to make it easier to work with Ean'tu, which is why I'm here. He will certainly be more peaceful if you approach him with humanity and perhaps, when I know more, we will have to take care of his circumstances so that we can improve them." Ana had spoken without taking a breath and Turner had listened attentively.

"You really are crazy, I've known it since the first day you started with us." Turner grinned. "You really do turn everything upside down." "I hear that a lot." she grinned back. "Can I count on you?" To her relief, he nodded. "Yes, I have to admit, I have a lot of respect for... Ean'tu? But I've never seen his humanoid side, I've only ever seen him as a dangerous beast... But when you're with him, he even holds hands with you. If there really is something to it, you should definitely get to the bottom of it."

"Thank you very much, but let's keep calling Ean'tu Sky in the projects and documents for the time being. It's better that no one knows what we know for now."

"I can pronounce and remember Sky better anyway." he laughed tiredly and leaned back in his chair. "I think I'm getting too old for this."

Ana smirked at Turner's comment, but then looked over to the window behind which Ean'tu was still sitting motionless on the bed with the all-white bedding. The room was so empty, there was nothing there for the Na'vi to occupy himself with. Tomorrow she would get him something he could weave again, ropes, maybe even beads. Let's see, she thought. Maybe a little paint and fabric, too. Ean'tu seemed to enjoy that sort of thing.

"Well, enough chatter, I have to make a plan to teach the Na'vi English and the paperwork waiting for us isn't going to get any less on its own." Ana stretched and tied her hair up with a scrunchie she had been wearing around her wrist.Turner sighed loudly.

"You're right, I'll take care of all the applications and reports. Go ahead and work on your teaching plan." Turner took the paperwork and sat down at the desk next to her. Ana went to the computer and started her research, after which she wanted to draw up the teaching plan.  She paused for a moment and looked over at Turner. "Thank you," she said with a smile.

"You're welcome," he replied curtly but no less warmly, and then they both immersed themselves in their work.

Tag Liste sign of Eywa:. @twisteduniverse5 @yukilaaw @mooniequeen

[ofthemorningstars]

Gifts of the Sabbath (Part 1)

TerzOmega ~ Smut below the cut

2k words

Part 2

Ao3 Version

Terzo Leashes Omega

Omega gives Terzo roses. Terzo gives Omega... something else.

---

Today was going to be special. Omega could feel it. 

It was a Sunday, which was usually the worst day of the week for them. Now that Terzo was Papa, Terzo was responsible for leading mass and had a laundry list of duties hanging over his head. Sundays were the dark lord’s most unholy of days, after all. There was always something else that needed to be done. Terzo was often kept away into the late hours of the night, sometimes even until early morning. If they got to see each other at all on Sunday, it was usually just to crash in the same bed.

Omega, on the other hand, had Sundays off. All of the ghouls did. In a PR move by the ministry, it was decided that even the lowliest of Satan’s servants were allowed their day of rest. Omega wasn’t complaining about getting a break, but he did wish that he could spend it with Terzo. Their time apart was made lonelier by not having work as a distraction.

Today was different. Terzo was sick. Evidently, sick enough that the Imperator had allowed him to stay in his chambers to recover. This was a rare mercy indeed. Primo would be taking over that morning’s sermon, much to his delight, Omega was sure. 

While Omega wasn’t happy to see Terzo suffer, he was grateful for the opportunity to spend the entire day together. That was quite rare for the off-season, when they weren’t on tour. Plus, caring for Terzo while he was ill offered a taste of the domestic life they so badly craved. Omega was always eager to take advantage of any opportunity to dote on his husband.

Omega sent one last text to Terzo, alerting him that he was almost there. While the majority of the church would be at mass right now, he wanted to minimize the risk of being caught. Usually he would sneak out to be with Terzo after lights-out; venturing to the papal suite during the day was bold. He was feeling bold today, though. He would be arriving with flowers in hand. Roses, to be specific. Roses swiped from Primo’s prized rose garden.

Omega could only get through two knocks before the door swung open and he was quickly pulled inside. Before he knew what was happening, Terzo was upon him, hugging him tightly. His hair was slightly damp, his cheeks pink. Oh no, Omega thought. He really was sick. He must be feverish. Indeed, he did feel warm against him, but… What was that smell? Vanilla and sandalwood? Had he just gotten out of the bath? 

“I see you’ve been raiding my brother’s garden. Are those for me?” Terzo asked cheekily, pointing to the roses. Omega nodded, pleased with himself but confused about Terzo’s perky demeanor. “Ah, grazie, amore mio! You are too good to me. I will go get a vase for them.” Terzo leaned up to kiss Omega’s cheek before turning and leaving the room, presumably headed to the kitchenette. But were those… black stockings that he was wearing beneath his dressing gown?

When Terzo returned to put the roses on the sitting room table, Omega got a better look. He was indeed wearing stockings. His suspicions grew. 

“Terzo?” Omega asked warily. “I thought you were sick. Is everything alright?”

Terzo’s smile was coy. “Everything is more than alright, amore mio. We are about to have a very good day.” 

Terzo undid his robe, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath he wore a matching set of black lace panties and garters. It was Omega’s favorite set. Omega swallowed hard, beginning to realize the trouble he was in. Terzo took his hand and led him to sit on the sofa before straddling him, settling in comfortably. He began to run his hands along Omega’s pecs. Omega’s confusion wrestled with budding arousal.

“Terzo,” Omega cautioned quietly.  “She’s going to kill you if she finds out you’re not really ill. Hell, Primo might, too. You know he likes to stay in bed on Sundays.”

“It will be fine. You worry too much. It’s not like I do this often.” Terzo began kissing Omega’s neck, undoing the buttons on his shirt. “Today is just a special occasion.”

“Oh? Special how?” Omega raised an eyebrow. Terzo didn’t answer. “You know, I was worried about you. I came over here with the intention of taking care of you.” Omega’s voice was soft. He ran his claws through Terzo’s hair. 

Terzo looked up. “Oh, you will be taking care of me plenty,” he said, words laden with promise. 

Omega’s heart skipped a beat, his mouth going dry. Terzo had finally gotten his shirt undone and was lavishing Omega’s chest with attention. Wasting no time, Terzo went straight for a nipple. Omega sucked in a breath as he felt himself beginning to stir already. He wanted to press the issue of Terzo’s flippant behavior, but his mind went blank when Terzo began to grind on him. Omega was far too easy when it came to Terzo, and Terzo knew it. Terzo always knew exactly which buttons to push to make him come undone.

“Terzo–” Omega tried again, but he was cut off by Terzo’s mouth descending on his. When Omega kissed back, Terzo’s hands began to explore Omega’s torso, sensually caressing, teasing. They wandered down until they reached the waistband of his pants. Terzo skated over Omega’s crotch with the lightest touch, running his fingers down Omega’s inner thighs. When Terzo pulled away from Omega’s mouth, Omega tried to follow. Terzo reached for something towards the other end of the couch, coming back with a long black box. Omega didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before now.

“I have a gift for you, amore,” Terzo purred, eyes full of mischief. He presented the box to Omega. “Open it.”

Omega complied, eyebrows shooting up as he removed the lid. He pulled the contents out slowly: a powder pink leather collar with a matching leash. The hardware was gold, the inside lined with soft suede. Omega huffed out a laugh, trying to ignore just how uncomfortable his pants were becoming. 

“What, you want me to take you out for a walk?” Omega snarked, but his cheeks were heating up. “Is that why today is special?”

Terzo’s smile grew wider. “Oh no, mio caro, this is not for me,” Terzo replied, voice syrupy. He ran a hand up Omega’s bicep and over his shoulder, coming to rest at the nape of his neck. “Not today, anyway,” he added, relishing the look in Omega’s eyes.

Omega was dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am,” Terzo replied, unzipping Omega’s pants and slipping his hand inside, cupping him through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. Omega winced; he had the sinking feeling that he was about to fight a losing battle with himself. 

“You really want me to wear that? Me??” Omega’s voice cracked. “You– You couldn’t have at least gotten a different color?” Terzo’s started to rub him over his underwear. His resolve was crumbling unusually fast.

“What? It’s cute,” Terzo said simply, placing a lingering kiss on Omega’s cheek. “I know you are excited to try it. Your body is giving you away.” Terzo ran his fingers over a wet spot on Omega’s underwear, the fabric sticking to Omega’s skin with precum. Omega shuddered, eyes closing. He couldn’t deny that his thoughts were racing, head swimming with possibilities. Terzo squeezed him firmly and Omega squeaked. His eyes shot open.

“A– Are you sure you don’t just want to eat brunch or something? You know, since we’re together during the daytime and you’re not really sick,” Omega stammered in an unusually high pitch, trying to find any flimsy excuse to get out of this. To deny the truth. Deep down, the idea was very enticing. 

“Mm. I had something else in mind that I wanted to eat.” Terzo ran his tongue up Omega’s neck in one slow lick. Omega let out a shuddering breath, fidgeting in his seat. Terzo grabbed the collar and held it up to Omega’s neck as if sizing it. He whispered in Omega’s ear, “May I?” He graced his earlobe with a nip while he was there.

Omega shivered. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He took a moment, then nodded, wondering with dread and excitement what he had just agreed to.

Terzo wrapped the collar around Omega’s neck, fastening it at the back. The fit was snug, but not tight. The soft lining was surprisingly comfortable on his skin. Omega could feel himself begin to throb gently at the pressure around his throat. Terzo attached the leash to Omega’s collar and took the other end firmly in his hand. Terzo slid from Omega’s lap to kneel at his feet, encouraging him to spread his legs. He wiggled Omega’s pants and underwear down his hips just enough to give him access. 

Once freed, Terzo took Omega’s cock in hand and gave him a few good pumps. Omega’s head fell back on the couch. He felt the slight tug of the short leash at the movement; it served as a reminder of what he had signed up for. Terzo gave him a long lick, kissing the tip before sinking Omega’s length down his throat. He began to bob rhythmically. Omega squirmed, gasping and gripping the sofa cushions. He was already too over-excited. He wondered with a grimace if he was going to ruin whatever Terzo had in mind by finishing too quickly. It was looking more and more like a real possibility by the second. Terzo reached up to cup his balls, stroking. Omega tensed, trying his best to fight off the inevitable.

Terzo opened his eyes, looking up to make eye contact with Omega. Heat flooded through Omega’s body as Terzo released him just to take another leisurely lick up his shaft, holding his gaze while he swirled his tongue around the head. Omega whined; Terzo was determined to cut their little game short, it seemed. Terzo took Omega back into his mouth and started working him even harder, his hands stroking Omega’s inner thighs.

“Please,” Omega said softly, already hanging on by a thread and too close to turn back. Terzo picked up the pace and began to moan around him, letting him feel the vibration. Yes, this was it, just a few seconds more, please–

Omega came into Terzo’s mouth with a low groan, his whole body tensing before going limp. As he caught his breath, he wondered what exactly the point of the leash had been, if Terzo wasn’t going to use it–

And then he was being yanked down by the collar to Terzo’s level. Before he could process what was happening, Terzo grabbed the back of his head and pried his mouth open with his tongue, flooding Omega’s mouth with his own cum. Omega spluttered and coughed in shock, not having had time to prepare for the unexpected intrusion. He loved it when he tasted himself on Terzo’s lips, but he was going to need a minute. As he sat there catching his breath, all he could focus on was how intensely turned on he was even after release. How badly he wanted more.

Terzo might actually kill him this time.

Terzo gave Omega a few minutes to recover. He returned to the sofa with Omega, stroking his hair and speaking soft praises to him. When he was sure he could handle it, Omega sat forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs.

“Are you alright, mio caro?” Terzo asked, placing a kiss to his temple.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to keep going?” Terzo’s question was earnest. Omega was free to say no at any point.

Omega paused for a moment before answering. “Yes.”

Terzo’s smile was like sunshine as he rose to his feet. He reached out and ran his fingers through Omega’s hair, saying sweetly, “That’s my good ghoul.”

Omega’s jaw went slack at the praise. His entire body felt as if it would catch fire. 

He really was in trouble. 

Omega stood on unsteady feet and was directed to strip. He did as he was told. Terzo then gently guided him onto all fours. He thought he should feel humiliated, but all he felt was a jagged thrill tearing through his core. He allowed Terzo to lead him into the bedroom, his tail practically tucked between his legs. He got more and more excited with each tug of the leash.

[delimeful]

carry them home (7)

warnings: illness, arguing, mentioned unwilling disordered eating, stressful situations, threats

-

It was good that Vee was so light, because Janus found himself carrying the changeling all the way back.

At first, he’d thought that perhaps the episode was less severe, since it hadn’t involved the gut-wrenching shrieks that he’d witnessed before, but the theory had fallen flat as the minutes dragged on. Back then, Vee had at least been coherent, talking and standing on his own shortly after the vision had run its course.

Whatever Vee was Seeing this time, it was taking far more out of him.

By the time Janus returned to the campsite, the soothsayer had fallen into a dazed, unresponsive state, staring right through Janus with that strange oil-spill substance still spilling from his eyes.

The other children didn’t react well.

“Put him down this instant!” Ro commanded furiously, the air warping with the force of the heat he was emitting.

Apparently, Vee hadn’t even deigned to inform them of his plan before gallivanting off with their pet hostage. Janus wished he had enough time to be properly annoyed about that little detail, but he sincerely doubted that they’d truly lost the Iron Guard. They could be relentless when they knew they’d caught the scent of a fae, and there were more ways than one to track quarry.

Especially when that quarry kept dripping an easily-followed trail of black ichor.

“The Guard is coming,” he replied, crouching low enough that he could convince his oath that he’d moved Vee down, and thus technically followed the order. “We have to move, or we’ll all be caught. Can Logan walk?”

“Wow! That’s awfully convenient,” Remus chimed in as he advanced, smiling with far too many teeth. “Lemme guess, you’ve got a place for us to head, too? Too bad you brought back our soothsayer all dazed and confused so he can’t check and see if it’s a trap or not.”

Janus resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. The two of them may have looked extremely similar, but they wore their anger in very different ways. Very inconvenient ways, since it would make it that much harder to convince the both of them with words alone. Patton wasn’t even present, probably busy watching over Logan if his condition really was as bad as Vee’s vision had foretold.

“What did you do to him?” Ro half-shouted, staring at Vee with blatant horror. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, but he didn’t get closer, didn’t try to touch Vee or snap him out of his distant-eyed state. Was he afraid to get too close to Janus, or just to anyone?

“He took me to the town to get medicine,” Janus explained shortly, attempting for a moment to tug one of the packets from Vee’s grip to no avail. “We ran into a Guardsman on the way out, and Vee had an episode right in front of him, so they’re no doubt in pursuit. I am under oath to be honest about movements of the Iron Guard and other dangers to you all, and even more vitally, I will face the same danger as you if I’m caught aiding a gaggle of especially undersized fair folk, so can we move past the suspicion in time to make it out of this alive, please.”

Ro was bristling, sparks spiraling off of his skin, but Remus had stalked close enough to squash Vee’s face between his hands, and whatever he noticed there seemed to convince him of something.

“Specs can’t walk,” he said bluntly, ignoring the startled-offended crackle from Ro. “Lean forward, and I’ll take you to him.”

Ro was the one holding the blood oath’s leash, but Janus didn’t have any interest in forcing their hands. He bowed his head and leaned in, ignoring every shrieking instinct that told him to duck away as small, dusty hands planted themselves on either side of his forehead, fingers pressing against his temples firmly enough to make his skull ache.

The discomfort was almost enough to obscure the prickling sensation of something small and gritty being smeared against his skin. He jerked back slightly, and Remus released him, smiling that shark grin again.

“If you betray us, I’ll push a bunch of spores into your brain matter and grow zombie mushrooms out of your skeleton while you’re still alive,” he informed Janus, looking all too thrilled at the prospect.

Janus stared at the kid for a moment, trying and failing to find the appropriate emotional response to this information. “Wonderful. So be it. Are you satisfied? Can we escape a horrible, painful fate now, or would you like to sit here and add more restraints to the only human helping you on this entire continent?”

Remus cackled a little, something unrepentant and near-manic in his gaze. “Someone’s feeling bitchy!”

Janus couldn’t help the face he pulled at that, but neither twin reprimanded him for it, or for rising back to his feet with Vee still safely in his arms.

The sparse camp was already packed up, and they ducked further into the thick brush until a small, thorn-protected space amidst the trees revealed itself.

“Guys! You’re okay!” Patton was inside, and even his clear relief at seeing Vee and the twins unharmed couldn’t hide the way worry still hid in the wrinkles of his forehead.

At his side, Logan lay on his back, wings spread out on either side of him, his breathing heavy and strained. There was the damp shine of sweat on his skin, a raspy quality to each exhale, and despite the rustle of their arrival, he didn’t even twitch. He was in no state to go anywhere.

Janus swore mentally, and knelt to try and set Vee down on his feet, praying that the kid at least had the presence of mind to stay upright.

Vee kept his feet for about ten seconds after Janus let go, and then he was wavering to one side and his legs were crumpling beneath him, and Janus hissed out a swear as he caught the kid’s bony shoulders before he could topple completely.

“Language!” Patton said, but it was half hearted at best, and not a direct command anyhow, so Janus didn’t pay the comment any attention.

He glanced over the lot of them, and knew that there was no way any of the three would be able to haul even one of the two unconscious members without being slowed down far too much.

“Are you going to say we should leave one of them behind?” Remus asked, neck cracking uncannily as he tilted his head at a discomfiting angle. He hadn’t stopped staring at Janus with wide eyes and rigid posture, like a hunting dog straining at the end of a leash. “Are you going to try and make us choose?”

“If you would stop putting words with horrifying implications in my mouth, I would appreciate it oh-so much,” Janus replied, sharper than he should have. He inhaled, closing his eyes briefly, and then shed his coat and wrapped it loosely around Vee’s shoulders. “Help me get him onto my back.”

Remus narrowed his eyes slightly without losing the smile, like he was thinking of refusing just to be contrary, and it was Patton who stepped forward and took Vee’s weight while Janus turned around and crouched.

With a little maneuvering, they managed to get Vee propped up on Janus’s back, and he tied the arms and ends of his coat around his front, creating a sort of makeshift sling. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but Vee remained solidly in place even when Janus took a few testing steps and turns, so it would have to be good enough.

“Alright, pick up whatever you’re not leaving behind,” he instructed, and carefully slid a shoulder under Logan’s shoulders, pushing him up into a sitting position so he could carefully fold his wing closed.

Patton, who apparently traveled light, hovered anxiously for a moment before ducking forward to mirror the action on Logan’s other side. “You’ll be careful with him, right? He may be birdlike, but that doesn’t mean he’s untweetable, okay? We won’t give up, right?”

“I certainly wouldn’t be going to all this trouble if I meant to give up,” Janus told him, keeping his voice as soft as he could manage in the face of the kid’s obvious distress. “Vee got the medicine for him. All we need is a safe place to administer it, and the quicker we move, the faster we can make that happen.”

Patton nodded, those strange square pupils locked on his friend’s limp form. “Okay. Okay, got it.”

Logan’s expression pinched slightly as Janus wrapped an arm under his shoulders and wings, with the other looping around his knees, but he didn’t wake from the jostling. Probably for the best, seeing as Janus wasn’t the most reassuring face for him to see at the moment.

Janus braced as he moved to stand, only to find that Logan was startlingly light for his size. Hollow bones, possibly? He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he hefted the kid fully into his arms, the task ahead feeling slightly less daunting.

There was a foreboding weakness in his arms, the result of too many skipped meals, but tucking Logan closer to his chest took some of the strain off, and Janus forced his mind away from it. No use in dwelling when there was nothing to be done.

“We’ve got to go. The town was south, so our heading should be any direction other than that. I’d advise sticking close to— no, wait, running water. I’d advise we head away from the river as well, so we don’t get pinned. Other than that, stealth is our best advantage.” He turned to face the three kids that were still on their feet. “Does anyone know how to cover tracks?”

A moment of silence, and then Ro hesitantly held up a flickering hand. “I could start a fire?”

Janus considered it, despite Patton’s unhappy expression at the idea. “Too risky. A single wrong turn, and we’d be in just as much danger.”

That, and he doubted Ro had the control necessary to keep the fire spreading into something catastrophic. The less people they had out for their blood, the better.

“It’s alright,” he said instead. “As long as we move fast and keep moving, it won’t matter if they can find our trail. I imagine Logan will be able to cast something to disguise it once he’s recovered.”

There were the right words. A little of their unease faded, and Janus turned and started off.

“Hey, wait!” Ro called, and Remus appeared at his side between one blink and the next. “Where are we going?”

“Away,” Janus emphasized, and then nodded at the forest ahead. “I can barely see past Logan, let alone pull out or read a map. I’ve given you all my advice, you’re the ones who should lead.”

He tried not to think about what the spores along his temples might do if the Guard caught them, if it seemed for even a moment that he’d betrayed them. No use dwelling, no use dwelling.

Remus was still watching him like a puzzle that needed to be figured out, but Ro had brightened at being put in charge of a task, and Janus followed in his heated-air wake, trying to keep his focus on the here and now.

Logan shifted slightly in his arms, turning his face against Janus’s torso as though attempting to hide from the sunlight. He made a small, raspy chirping sound before settling again, feathery ears at a less harsh angle than before.

He’d outmaneuvered the Guard before, and that was with only his life on the line. With his current burden, there was no other acceptable option than to repeat the feat.

No matter the cost.

[girlboypersonthingy]

Can I request Matt with a cosplayer s/o? I can totally see them doing cosplay couples such as Link and Zelda, David and Lucy, Zhongli and Tartaglia, Jean and Lisa... And please could It be fluff (and maybe something spicy If you want)? Thank you!! 🩷

PLZ IM SO WEAK FOR THIS REQUEST OML !!! Thank you for this 🙏🏻 also sorrrryyyyy this took me literally forever to get to. ENJOY~

Note: FUCK IT!!!! TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY IDCCCC

Cosplay Couple 🧡

This dweeb would for sure be the one to bring all the ideas to you. I could see him running up to you, practically shaking from excitement as he takes a deep breath then tells you his thoughts.

“Link and Zelda, hm? That sounds fun but Link is canonically shorter than Zelda sooo…”

If you’re shorter than him, he’s immediately like “HELL YEAH!!! ILL BE THE PRINCESS. IM GONNA WEAR A DRESS!”

If you’re taller than him, he immediately gets flirty. “Oooh~ I can’t wait to see you dressed up like a princess. You’re gonna be so freaking adorbs.”

Honestly he gives zero fucks about gender roles and stuff like that. If he wants to dress as a female character, he will. And he won’t do some gender bent version of it, he’s going full out girly girl.

But he likes dressing as male and other gendered characters too. He just likes to cosplay his fav characters and sometimes his favs are girls. 🤷🏻 whatevs

Will absolutely take you to comicon or any other fun convention. He’d be running around like a kid in a candy store with $100.

Might even get too excited. Like running into people, tripping and falling type excited. You may have to hold his hand or put him on one of those money backpack leash things for kids lmao

Will also beg you like a million times to take pics of him with any cosplayers that he thinks are really cool and well done.

Fucking cutie dork is like ✌🏻😃 in every pic

Also asks several different people at different times throughout the day to take pics of you two together and when he looks back at the photos, he smiles all big.

At some point, he’ll drag you off to a private corner or to a single stall bathroom or even back to the car to dishevel your costume a bit with gentle groping and touches as you guys sloppily make out.

Probably messes up your hair, wig, makeup. Maybe all three. You might have to tell him to chill out cuz he’ll totally try to take you back home for some quality time together right now.

If yall are more into the ‘cosplay for a video and post it online but don’t leave the house’ thing, he’s totally fine with that too.

He wouldn’t care if no one even saw your cosplays but each other bc either way, it’s a lot of fun and he loves the quality time spent with you.

Always asks you to help with the makeup part of any cosplay. I couldn’t see him being very good with makeup so he’s gonna rely on you.

Also he sucks bc you’ll take hours to get into your cosplay, trying to perfect your look and Matt will ruin it all with his big, grabby hands and his soft, slobbery lips within minutes.

But god forbid you wreck his cosplay from being all handsy and kissy, he’ll pout about it for the rest of the day.

“Aawwww, (Y/N)!!! No! Why?! I looked so goooddddd, ugh!”

Back to the ‘fuck gender roles’ thing…Matt would find you so fucking hot cute in any cosplay, regardless of your gender or the characters’ gender.

If you are a fem who wants to dress as a masc character, he’s like 😍🥵

If you are a masc who wants to dress as a fem character, he’s like 😳🥰

If you’re anything in between or non binary or whatever, he doesn’t care. He vibes with you soooo heavy so your looks or your sexuality or your gender identity don’t bother him. If anything, your unique sense of yourself makes him adore you even more.

ALSO ALSO same goes with height, weight, skin color. If you wanna cosplay a character that actually looks nothing like you, is way taller than you or way thinner than you, he’s there to help you get it as accurate as you can

Tells you at least 100 times that it’s just dress up and doesn’t have to be perfect

But also tells you you’re always perfect in the same breath

He’ll support you in any way no matter what.

[imurlilsparklejumpropequeen]

hi, good morning or evening, can you make an NSFW fic about powerbottom Jason Todd x subTop Male reader? in which they are a couple and M reader is an angel, he is very sweet and all those super cute things😭, but he has a lot of fetishes such as domination, degradation, praise, teasing, overstimulation to the point of crying, marks on the body, having her boyfriend put a dog collar on a leash and stuff? (If any of them bother you, you don't have to wear it!) context is them coming back from a super sweet date and m reader is horny so jason takes him to the room and rides him? (this is my first time requesting something and im embarrassed jaksj😭😭)

Jason Todd x Male Reader

Notes: heyyy so like i forgot about the leash and stuff hope you forgive me <3

Warnings: NSFW!, mlm smut, gay very gay, name calling (tell me if i forgot others)

You and a grumpy Jason just got back from a date, he was pissed that some lowly crook flirted with you.

"Hey jace you fine? You seem grumpier and sulkier than usual?" You questioned your boyfriend as you sat at the edge of the bed wondering why he was in an ill mood

As Jason sat with his back against the headboard you crawled your way in front of him

"C'mon love what's wrong?" You cupped his cheeks with your palms as you ran your thumbs across his lips

In one swift motion your positions switched on the bed, he was now sitting on top of you. His hands on your chest as he gripped the massive pecs

"You know what's wrong you dumb fucking harlot" Now his words struck something within you, a primal instinct of submissiveness that caused the tiniest of whimpers to escape a big man

Jason began to un-buckle your pants, he stripped you of necessary clothing and took a bottle from the bedside table, he then squirted lube on his hand and jerk you off

Another whimper spilled from your lips, each grunt and whimper caused jason to grip harder and quicken his pace

"J-Jace i'm gonna c-cum soon" Like an indication to stop Jason came to a halt. "I can't have you cumming so soon you dirty harlot"

He then unbuckled his pants and positioned his ass on the tip of your penis, anothe quivering whimper came from you as jason lowered himself into your dick

Once he fully lowered himself he began riding you, loud whimpers came from you as your senses became overloaded and overstimulated, he bounced himself up and down on you he began to once again gripping your chest as he rode you.

"What a sensitive bitch" Jason spoke but you couldn't quite hear him too dumb from being overstimulated

"You close?" Jason asked his pace quickening as his orgasm neared. "Y-yes" You whimpered an answer

"Then cum for me, cum inside me, fill me up with your hot cum" he rode and rode he also felt stupid, feeling heavenly as your dick kept hitting his prostate

In a swift motion he grabbed your lips and began making out, in your intense making out you spilled your hot cum within him, while seconds later both of your chests up to your nexts are painted with cum

"Such a good boy, filling me up with your hot cum" Jason lied his head at your neck whispering sweet nothings in your ear

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c28. On a leash.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mentions of death, depression, eating disorders.

song to listen to when reading this: Movement, Hozier.

abstract: Judy here, I really don't know what my life is about, I'm working in autopilot. Something is clearly wrong but I haven't figured it out yet… which is weird cause I always figure out everything before everyone else. I feel fucking ill.

'Praticamente niente, ho un nuovo lavoro.' Alba propped her phone against a cereal box and stood in the frame. Salvo's expression, on her phone, turned from confusion to excitement, his big black eyes looking at her in shock. 'Ma che cazzo…' She laughed and sat down on one of the stools. She had her wet hair up in with towel, a oversized jumper on. She got an email that morning from Laswell, said that since she did so well on her last mission she could help out once more. In reality, and she didn't know this, they were calling her just to keep an eye on her, Shepherd's orders. Keep the girl under observation, he had said. It wasn’t because she was good, poor thing. It was because they were scared. The job description was exactly how you would expect it, non existent. She would get briefed that night. Laswell had other things to attend and couldn't really follow smaller missions that were all organised by Price. She told Salvo the news. She told him she was happy, it was basically a promotion without a pay raise, but she liked it anyway. She craved that validation, the fact that she was getting praised by her boss and having more to do than her usual sessions was going to keep her busy and distract her from nightmares and paranoia.

She asked Salvo to remind her what time he was flying to the airport, since she was supposed to pick him up. He would stay at her place for a few nights, and then go back to base. Just to catch up and spend more time together. She sat in group therapy at the edge of her seat, she was eager to get out and go to the meeting with Price, to know what she needed to do, what her tasks were going to be. There were three people in the room with her, she usually had larger groups but many were still deployed or at home to their families. 'And how are you doing with your meds Andy?' She had her notebook on her lap, she put a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Do you remember what I was saying a few weeks ago about panic, about using your senses to ground yourself?' It was almost scary how she liked helping people, and how she never took her own advice. She had a long healing journey from her past, when she was in university she took therapy extremely seriously, since her brain blocked out memories and chunks of her past from bothering her and tormenting her in her day-to-day life. After the attack last year, after Arash… She really wasn't the best to give advice, she was just going with what theories and literature had to offer her. Fix everybody and let yourself rot in bed for weeks. 'It might be useful to focus your attention to something you can see like the cars out of the window, something you can hear…' She gently stretched to her right with her hand open, 'Something you can feel like my hand on your arm, or the chair beneath you…' She gently gave Sargent Alison a pat on the arm. She had time for a smoke break after the session ended, that's where she found the Lieutenant.

He stood alone with his mask raised on his nose, cigarette in his right hand. He wore black, she thought he looked even taller today, taller and bigger. Handsome. He offered his lighter without her even having to ask. He acted like he knew her forever. 'I heard you'll be joining us again.'

'Just make sure you don't say my name again this time, you're gonna get me killed.'

His blood went cold for a second, heat rushing to his masked face. He had thought about what he did constantly after New Years. Even when he was with her on that bench, walking down the street with Jinx or choosing what to eat, he looked at her and thought about her being dead. He thought about her under the desk, at the ballet school, pale and terrified. He ate with her, payed for dinner, told her to get whatever dessert she liked. He held her dog on a leash for her. Her shoulder brushed his arm countless times while they squeezed in the crowd to get to the bench. He almost killed her. He cursed her for joking about it, you’re too young to understand. She was smoking in silence beside him, looking at the sun setting, painting the deserted street pink and gold. He was done with his cigarette, he debated waiting for her. Entering the briefing room together would have looked extremely suspicious. No one knew what he had been doing, no one knew he knew her. He thought Johnny was suspicious for sure, cause he noticed he had been going out a few times alone. But no one could ever imagine he ate dinner at her house, walked with her, talked to her. He hugged her (she chose him). No one knew he knew stuff about her, like her tattoos, that she liked to cook, that she broke her right arm as a kid. No one knew she knew him, that was the scary part. She knew where he was from, where he got deployed, that be enjoyed working in Bulgaria, she knew he didn’t like hostage situations. She knew he was allergic to stupid fucking strawberries… No one could even imagine she had anything to do with him, someone like him.

He snapped back to reality when he felt her pull his jacket. She looked like a child pulling on his sleeve. He looked at her and realised she wanted him to take a step back and take cover from the light rain. She quickly let go of the fabric, he did as she wished and pressed his back to the wall so he wouldn’t get soaked. She was considerate. She was observant. They smoked in silence, he was done before her, he waited for her to finish. He was getting extremely nervous. She seemed to be relaxed, a bit tired even. ‘What’s the mission?’ she asked, they were walking inside, side by side. His boots heavy on the ground in sync with the clicking of her shiny shoes. Her coat was flowing behind her like a super villain cape. ‘Serbia’, he answered, they stepped in the meeting room.

Walking with him made her comfortable and confident. They stepped inside the room together, her in front of him, they gained a couple of weird looks. Even Price noticed. As if he didn’t already suspect that something was going on, and nothing was going on they were literally just colleagues. They happened to be in the corridor at the same time, no big deal. He felt like everyone could hear his thoughts or read his mind. He felt violated, like everyone knew how often he thought about her, and in which situations. He felt terrified at the thought everyone in the room had the right to think about her as well. He didn’t sit next to her, she chose her spot next to the wall, she didn’t seem to mind that he was no longer beside her. She noticed the room counted less soldiers, compared to the Al-Jareena mission. She saw Kyle, Scotland, the guy that mocked her in the past mission. She recognised his face. With the captain, the room counted six people. Price started speaking without even acknowledging her, or the others for that matter. He explained the situation in Serbia was getting out of hand again, but not enough to get deployed there. This time, they were waiting, this time violence wasn't exactly the answer. With a look around the room she quickly understood that she was the only one unaware of what the situation in Serbia was…

Her confused look gained Price's attention, so he made the effort to explain. 'We've been following some criminal gangs in Serbia, they occupy a neighbourhood close to the Romanian border. It was just stealing and drugs at the beginning, it's getting larger now. It's nothing major still, but they seem a rather strong group.' She nodded. The captain turned the small tv in the room on, two faces popped up. Two men. 'This is Smith and Madison, you remember them. They infiltrated the group nearly four months ago. They're reporting some changes in the diplomacy in the group, they're beginning to work with external parties…'

'What do you mean, they're expanding?' someone asked, she didn't turn to look.

'They are. They have arms, they have men, no one really knows who they are, they haven't been arrested yet, they're maybe getting paid to serve as mercenary.'

'By who?' she was the one to speak now, eyes still glued on the screen.

Price gave her a look, before revealing they suspected other terrorist groups to be in contact with them. Jude tried to hide her extremely confused expression, while everyone felt like Price’s speech was totally making sense. 'Jude, we would need you to… listen.' She felt her heart drop at him personally addressing her. 'Beg your pardon?' She whispered. He took a step towards her 'We have a team of two people who listen to the group's conversation basically all day, since Smith and Madison were finally able to plant covert listening devices around their bases. You would be listening, writing and reporting any details you think are important.' She kept looking at him without making a sound. Why don't they do it? Why me? She was about to answer when he started talking again. 'You're Croatian on your mother's side, Serbian is a variety of the Serbo-Croatian language, they even switch to English at times'.

Fucked. She was fucked. She looked at the captain petrified, he knew she wasn't really Croatian for Christ's sake! That's not true I'm not fucking Croatian, you dick! And he knows it. It's part of the fake story, you idiot. 'Correct me if I'm wrong… I'm supposed to sit and listen and take notes? You know I don't know Croatian that well, let alone Serbian…' She hated him for putting her in that position. She felt her face burn up, her ears turning red. I’m not doing it. ‘Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult. Serbian language has three genders, they have neuter as well. They have grammatical cases, nominative, dative, accusative… you studied Latin didn’t you?’ Her face dropped in an even more shocked expression. She did, in fact, study Latin. Ten years ago. ‘I’m sorry, you have two people working on this, what do you need me for?’ She spoke again, hoping no one in the room could sense the panic in her voice. Simon could. He was tense as well, basing off her body language, which he observed from his seat, she wasn’t comfortable at all. Why wasn’t she, he thought she was all proud and confident to work with them. What is happening to you, sweet thing? ‘Because we trust you, Jude.’ The captain assured. You don’t, she thought. ‘Laswell trusts you, she likes the way you work, she feels like she has control over these type of situation if you’re working as well. Plus, the workload is significant…' She felt flattered, don’t get me wrong. But no, something was up. She had a job already, she didn’t know Serbian. She didn’t know the alphabet, she didn’t know the vocabulary. It was absurd, her mom wasn’t fucking Croatian and Price knew. Laswell knew! Laswell was the one who helped with the fake identity thing! They were up to something.

She let out a sight, ‘Will I get compensated?’ She was back, Simon saw her. He saw right through her, he saw her change. He saw the way her eyes looked dark, fierce. She fixed her posture, she looked at the captain through her eyebrows. She was Jude again, Alba was gone. ‘Compensated?’ The captain asked, he made a mistake. She quickly followed. 'I already have a job. I’ll have to learn the alphabet, captain. You’ll need to get me a dictionary. And you said you have two people that are working right now every day practically all day, with me I count…’ she pretended to think about it, ‘eight hours of listening and writing each day?’ Silence. Simon had to repress a smile. 'I guess… yes, no you're right.' She sat back in her seat, shocked that he thought she wasn't gonna ask to get paid.

She quickly realised what mess she had gotten herself into. The men in the room kept talking about the gangs situation, their next steps and when they were going to intervene. She spaced out, thinking about what actually meant to have agreed to something like that. She had work, she had ballet… When was she gonna have time to do this? And, again, she didn't know Serbian! She felt a wave of anxiety wash over her when the captain handed her the two other workers' schedule. She was still looking at the working hours, walking towards the exit when she felt an hand on her shoulder. Her mind went to Simon. It went to Simon immediately to be exact, she thought that she was going to raise her eyes and see him, he would ask her if she was fine with all probability. She felt like she could rant to him and tell him the truth, it was too much to ask her, she felt incredibly lost and insecure… It wasn't Simon.

'You keep surprising me, really. You'll be our official translator!'

She let out a chuckle while Kyle practically escorted her out of the room.

It wasn't Simon.

notes: i am uploading from my hotel in turkey lol.

notes: i inspire my missions to real life history facts, and I think you can kinda see which wars and historical events this is inspired from. if you can't, it means I did a good job hiding it. I want to remind you everything I write is fictional, if I'm taking inspiration is simply from historical facts that are common knowledge. I'm going to refer to Italy and set the story in Italy soon, so I will be talking about war and crime in my own country. still, it will be all from my imagination. bye. I love you.

taglist:

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@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

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[silliestlittledemon]

The master as an age regressor headcanons! :3

• I think he'd regress to around 4-6 years old-ish

• The doctor explained to him what age regression was, which cleared up a lot for him but he doesnt like the label.

• Involuntarely regresses almost every 1-2 days, he goes baby brain at the slightest trigger

• The doctor immediately took on a caring role for him, which he found strangely comforting... but he'd never admit that out loud.

Random headcanons :3

• He'd be very... very verbal... just rambling on about stuff that doesnt make any sense it's literally impossible to shut him up

• He'd be one of those kids that NEED to be put on a leash or else they'll go missing and never be seen again

• You'd need to get him very durable toys otherwise he'll be able to have found a way to destroy within a day

• He'd have breakdowns regularly, please dont remind him of anything slightly related to his past when he's little.

• Definitely bites you anytime he gets the chance.

• Just makes silly faces at you if you tell him he's not allowed to destroy everything in a 5km radius to him

• I have a feeling he'd really like chewing on stuff, chew toys? Sure! Edge of a table? Sure! Humans? Sure!

• Comfortable clothes are a MUST when he regresses. Nothing too scratchy or itchy.

• Lock all the kitchen cabinets, or he'll raid and gobble up every single snack he can find. (He does this when he isnt regressed as well... he's just able to break into them faster)

• Oh, also, dont give him sugar or else he'll be refusing to sleep for 4-6 business days.

That's all! These were... totally not severely based off of me... Im just like him frfr:( Ive gotten so hyperfixated on this little psychopath lately. Ill probaly make a lot more of these, that is... if I have the motivation...

Any k!nk or f3t!sh content DNI!!

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 19: Oliver's Price Tag

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control

The hallway outside of the preparation room was bustling with activity, vampires leading around thralls in varying states of dress and consciousness. One vampire was carrying a young, thin woman who was fast asleep; another pulled along a woman who was babbling utter nonsense and giggling as though she was drunk; one enthralled man was stumbling along like a sleepwalker. Oliver took in the sights passively, too entranced himself, letting the distressing sights slide off of him without thought.

He was at least peripherally aware of how heads were turning as he walked by. He was actually starting to believe what everyone had been telling him, that he was the main attraction at this auction, based on the looks of obvious desire in the vampires' eyes. 

Even through his fog, he couldn't help but be interested in the sight of a creature with almost-but-not-quite human proportions, shimmering skin, and two shining violet wings like an oversized butterfly. The wings flapped at a hummingbird's speed as the dazed-looking creature struggled against iron chains.

"Faefolk," said Miss Florence, noticing his interest. "A vampire delicacy, and one of the few things here that rivals you in value."

Faefolk! So vampires weren't the only creatures from story that really existed. He'd love to get a closer look, or talk to one, but he certainly wasn't going to get a chance right now. He followed his leash through the twisting passages of the auction house in a merciful blur, walking upstairs and emerging into a far more sumptuous area. 

Here, the polished wood floors were neat enough to see his reflection in, and the walls were lined with oil paintings and curios full of ornaments and curiosities. Miss Florence led him into a kind of sitting room with richly upholstered chairs and carved mahogany furnishings, the narrow window covered by a dark velvet curtain. Miss Lily, now wearing a fashionable silk gown and diamond jewelry, and looking far more awake and put together, rose to meet them.

She beamed with pleasure upon seeing Oliver. "Yes, indeed," she said. "Absolutely ideal. An excellent job, Florence."

"It's my pleasure," she said, handing over Oliver's leash. "I only wish I could have sampled the goods myself."

"That's a taste of blood that would cost you."

"What are they starting him at?"

"Last I heard, nine thousand."

Even in his dazed state, Oliver nearly choked. Nine thousand, for him? That was more than a house, more than his net worth, more than an entire fleet of cars.

Surely no one would pay that much for him. It was impossible. What would become of him if he didn't sell, if he was a disappointment...?

"Are you having thoughts again, dear?" said Miss Lily. "Quiet your mind." She took him by the chin and gazed into his eyes. "Be nice and drowsy and docile for me. Vampires will love to watch you submit. It feels so good to obey me, doesn't it? You will obey, won't you?"

"Yes, sir," he said, feeling his eyelids droop under Miss Lily's hypnosis. 

"You want to show the vampires how well you can obey, how helpful and pleasant you are, how utterly docile and subservient you can be." She swayed back and forth, and Oliver swayed with her, captivated in her eyes. "It's what you want more than anything. Allow just enough of your mind to go to sleep, now, Oliver dear, so that you can be the best possible thrall."

He nodded, hypnotized once more. "Yes, sir, I'll be docile for the vampires."

"He's an unusual one, isn't he?" Miss Florence remarked.

"He loves to submit, and he's so easy to entrance, but keeps slipping out of it when you're not paying attention. Too many thoughts in his brain. A problem for the buyer, I suppose. Speaking of which..."

Miss Florence took her leave as the first customer entered, an unremarkable looking man in an ill-fitting suit. "Hello, hello," he said to Miss Lily. "Getting an early start looking at the merchandise. So this here's the centerpiece, yes?"

Oliver, not sure what was appropriate, took a small bow, Miss Lily's command to be docile echoing. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he said.

"Oh, he talks!" said the man in surprise. "Tell me, do you cook and clean too?"

"I can clean, sir, and I know some basic cookery. I'm... I'm eager to serve."

"What a charming thrall, and such excellent-smelling blood. I can see why he commands such a high price," he said. "Of course I'd have to clear this kind of purchase with my partners, but we are in the market for this sort of thing, so... Hm. I suppose I don't have to decide now, especially since I haven't seen what else is on offer." He left the room, deep in thought.

"Well done," Miss Lily whispered in his ear, and he felt a surge of pride and pleasure.

He was doing well at this -- making himself presentable to vampires who wanted to purchase him and feed from his blood. As his brow furrowed, the smallest hint of discomfort tugging at him, Miss Lily patted his hair.

"Oh, would you look at this!" The next vampire to enter the room had a bright pink dress with an exaggerated bustle, white silk gloves up to her elbows, and long hair down to her waist. "Isn't he just adorable?"

"...Pleased to meet you, sir," said Oliver.

"Aww, so stiff and formal!" She drew close and ruffled his hair, and Oliver could feel a powerful aura radiating from her, blanking his mind.

"Aren't you normally in the market for pets, Lady Jessica? This one's trained as a servant," Miss Lily chimed in.

"Well, that's not a problem, darling. Redoing a human's mind is always a fun weekend project. Besides, he looks like a pet. Don't you, boy?"

"...Yes, sir," he quietly agreed. Her very presence was making him feel so...

"If I bought you, boy, you'd be so spoiled. I'd dress you up in just the cutest outfits and you could sleep at the foot of my bed. I'd take you on walks and everything. What do you say to that?"

...draining his ability to think, that's what she was doing. "...Thank you," he said, having difficulty following the conversation.

"Show me what a cute little pet you can be, boy. Get on all fours and beg."

Oliver sank to his knees in a daze, putting up two hands in a crude imitation of a puppy.

"Oh, my, you look adorable!" Lady Jessica laughed. "I simply must bid on this one. Don't tell anyone else though, will you, love? They'll only drive the price up."

"I wouldn't dream of disclosing our patrons' intent to other patrons," said Miss Lily.

She was petting Oliver's head as you would do to a dog. "I do wish you'd allow us to sample the blood, though, at least for the high value patrons. Just a few drops to swish in the mouth would be enough. I was at an auction in Paris where every piece of merchandise had these miniature crystal shot glasses of their blood arranged next to them. It was so delightfully elegant."

"An innovation which hasn't made its way across the pond, I suppose."

"No, and what a pity. Something to keep in mind. Perhaps I'll take it up with Colette over lunch sometime." She finally stepped away from Oliver. "I do think I'm going to go look at the faefolk next! Mine expired two months ago, sadly, so I'm in need of something fresh and new."

"As you please, Lady Jessica," said Miss Lily.

Once she exited, Oliver was able to clear his head and allow his faculties to partially return. He truly did not like how Lady Jessica made him feel, and as eager as he was to obey, he couldn't quite accept the idea of being an intelligence-drained imitation dog for the rest of his life. He took a deep breath to try and steady himself.

The door to the room opened again, and this time, it was a mop of messy hair and familiar sharp blue eyes. "Is this the thrall you've insisted I take a look at, Lily?" said a deep but soft voice. "I've told you a hundred times that I'm just not ready for -- Oliver? Oliver, is that you?"

Oliver dared to look up. "Good evening, Lord Alexander."

Part 18 >> Masterlist >> Part 20

Thanks for reading this story about Oliver being auctioned off.

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[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

At the Dawn There is Rejoicing--a birthday gift for @kmomof4 (Chapter 4)

Summary:  Birthday gift for Krystal, @kmomof4. Based on the story of Leslie Moore and Owen Ford in the book Anne’s House of Dreams–the 5th book in the Anne of Green Gables series.  Emma Gold has led a difficult life.  Her brother and her father died when she was a child, and she was then coerced into marrying the odious Neal Gold.  She thought she’d been granted a reprieve when he was believed to be lost at sea–only for him to return disabled and in need of a caregiver.  Killian is a newspaper reporter who is tired of his routine life.  When he falls ill, his editor forces him to take a sabbatical.  What will happen when Emma takes Killian in as a border for the summer? Big thank you to @snowbellewells for making the cover pic set!

Word Count: 3990

Other Chapters: (Prologue) (1) (2) (3) (5) (6) (7) (Epilogue)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Emma, dearie, I’ve come to ask you a favor,” Granny said, climbing the steps onto the veranda where Emma sat watching Neal chase the chickens in the yard.  One of them, thoroughly exasperated, turned around and gave him a vicious peck.  Neal yowled in response.

“Serves you right, you big, lumbering oaf!” Granny called across the lawn.  “Saying that man doesn’t have the sense he was born with would be a slander.  He never had any sense to begin with.”

Emma smiled to herself.  Whatever else it might be, a visit from Granny was always diverting.  “What’s the favor, Granny?” she asked.

Granny took a seat beside her and pulled out her knitting.  For the time being, she had put aside knitting for unwanted eighth babies and begun an afghan for Mary Margaret and David’s very much wanted first.  “Well,” she began, “I know you take in boarders from time to time and I was hoping you’d be willing to do so again.”

Emma had indeed begun taking in boarders several years ago.  It was hard to make ends meet sometimes, now that Neal was not able to be employed, and the steady income from a boarder was a welcome addition to her coffers.  “I don’t see why not,” Emma said.  “Who is it?”

“Name’s Killian Jones,” Granny said after a moment.  “Bless, me, but that man’s going after the geese now.  Emma dearie, you need a leash for that husband of yours.  Anyway, Mr. Jones, it turns out, is a descendant of the first residents of the Nolan’s House ‘o Dreams over there.  I thought about asking them to take him in, but that little house is barely bigger than a postage stamp, and now that they’ve brought in a nurse and housekeeper–name’s Johanna, I think–they’re just about bursting at the seams.”

“What’s this Mr. Jones like?” Emma asked.

“Never met him, myself,” Granny said, her needles clacking away in the otherwise peaceful afternoon, “but I’ve heard tales of his grandfather.  Good man, that.”

Emma raised her eyebrows in feigned shock. “Why Granny, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d praise any man as good or intelligent, or…well…worth anything.”

“Now, Emma, I’m not a complete misandrist, you know,” Granny said.  “I do rather like Dr. Nolan.  He’s got some brains in that blond head of his.  And Captain Nemo can be tolerable company when he’s not being cantankerous.”

“And what about Mr. Gepetto?” Emma asked slyly. 

“Pfft,” Granny said.  “That man wouldn’t know brains if they bit him on his well-formed backside.”

“Well-formed, you say?” Emma asked with a grin.

Granny blushed.  Actually blushed, and Emma’s grin widened.  “Never you mind, Emma, dearie.  We’re not talking about that hairy nincompoop.  We’re talking about Mr. Jones’s grandfather, Liam Jones.”

“Wasn’t there some story about him, something poignant and romantic?” Emma asked.

“Indeed there was,” Granny said, regaining her composure.  “You see, Liam Jones sailed over to the harbor from England many years ago looking to make a better life for himself.  He left his sweetheart, Elsa, back home, vowing to send for her when he’d established himself.  He took up school teaching, built that little house ‘o dreams with his own two hands, and finally he’d saved up enough money for his lady love’s passage.  

“Well, he sent for her and then waited. And waited. And waited. The time came when the ship–The Jewel of the Realm by name–was supposed to arrive, and no Elsa.  He took to going down to the shore every blessed day, looking for its sails to appear over the horizon.  At first he maintained his spirits.  After all, it was a long voyage.  Delays happened.  But as the days and then months went by, he began to worry.  First walking the shore with his anxiety, then taking to sitting despondently on the sand, but every day he waited.  The devotion that man showed.  Legendary.  

“Finally people began to give the ship up for lost, but Liam never lost faith.  He maintained steadfastly that his Elsa would return to him.  And then one day, he went to the shore, his eyes shining, an unearthly joy on his face. 

“‘She’ll arrive today,’ said he, and you know what, Emma dearie?  She did.  That blessed day, around sunset, The Jewel of the Realm made port.  The reunion of Liam and Elsa–well, let’s just say it was beautiful enough to make anyone blubber like an idiot.  (Mary Margaret’s probably still sobbing over the whole story down there in her house ‘o dreams after I told it to her.  You know how she is.)  He took her into his arms, tears streaming from his face, and the kiss that resulted was one for the ages.”

“How beautiful,” Emma said wistfully.  “And do you think this Killian is built of the same stuff as his grandfather?”

“Who’s to say,” Granny said.  “His folks moved to Montreal long before he was born, and you can never trust them city folks, but he probably has as good a chance of not being completely worthless as any man.”

“Well, we could certainly use the income,” Emma said.  “Sure.  Tell Mr. Jones he can board with us.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian Jones stopped to catch his breath for what felt like the fifteenth time since exiting the train.  He’d opted against taking a carriage to the boarding house Miss Lucas had directed him to in her latest letter.  It was, after all, a mere quarter mile walk from the station.  He thought he’d be able to manage it, particularly as he’d paid the stationmaster to have his luggage sent after him.

He’d thought wrong.

Blast this bloody pneumonia!  Dr. Whale had warned him it would take time, fresh air, and a lot of rest to fully regain his strength, but Killian hated feeling like an invalid.

He glanced around the harbor which would be his home for the next several months.  The island and the seashore were certainly picturesque.  He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm sea breeze blowing across his face–far more clammy than he would have liked. The salty tang of the air calmed him.  He’d always loved the ocean, always thought if he’d lived a couple centuries ago he’d have been a pirate.  Aye, this would be the perfect place to finish his recuperation.

Opening his eyes once more, he took in his bearings.  Off to his left sat a single, tiny white house.  He recognized it from the black and white dageurrotype his mother had received some years after moving to Montreal.  This, then, must be the house Liam Jones had built for his bride.

Turning to the right, he spotted a two-story gray house with a lovely front lawn and a garden off to the side.  This must be Mrs. Gold’s boarding house.  Killian sighed in relief noting that he was a mere hundred yards from the white picket fence that encircled the dwelling.  He wanted nothing more now than to collapse on his bed and sleep for the foreseeable future.

He tried to stride confidently up to the front door, but in his present state, his gait was more of a hobble.  Even so, he made it in due time and rapped smartly on the front door.

A moment later the door opened, and for the second time in as many minutes his breath completely abandoned him.

Beautiful didn’t begin to describe the absolute vision who peered out at him with enquiring green eyes, nor gorgeous either.  She was positively ethereal.  Perhaps he hadn’t survived the journey after all.  Perhaps he’d just arrived at the pearly gates and was being welcomed by an angel.

Well….welcomed might be too strong a word.  The vision before him regarded him with surprise and something like suspicion.  “Yes?” she asked.

“Good–” he started, hating the way his voice cracked like a young lad attempting to speak to the first lass he fancied.  He cleared his throat–which started a mercifully short bout of coughing–and tried again. “Good morning.  I’m looking for Mrs. Emma Gold.”

She gave him a quick nod.  “I’m Mrs. Gold.”

His eyebrows shot to his forehead.  This was Mrs. Gold?  This was his landlady for the summer?!  When Miss Lucas had told him about the place he was to board and the woman who ran it, he had imagined a bustling, matronly woman several decades this woman’s senior.  He’d imagined a bossy woman with a thoroughly cowed, hen-pecked husband, not this absolute vision.

“P-pleased to meet you,” he stammered, desperately trying to regain his bearings.  “I’m–I’m–”  

She raised a single eyebrow at his stammering (and his apparent inability to remember his own name), but he could see the amusement behind her eyes.

This was bloody ridiculous!

“I’m Killian Jones,” he finally managed.  “I believe you have a room for me to rent for the summer?”

Understanding lit her features.  “Come in, Mr. Jones,” she said at once.  “Granny told me about your illness.  You must be dead on your feet after that long journey.  Let me show you to your room.  My….husband….Neal can see to your luggage for you.  He’s…”

Killian saw the discomfort in Emma’s face at the mention of her husband, and he put a comforting hand on her arm.  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Gold.  Miss Lucas told me about your husband’s…situation…there’s no need to avoid the subject on my account.  And as for my luggage, it will be delivered later today.”

She nodded, and he saw her relief in the way he’d straightforwardly addressed Mr. Gold’s disability.  For a moment they merely stood, looking at each other, and Killian rather thought he could look at this woman for the rest of his life and be thoroughly content, but his head was beginning to swim, and he began to be afraid he’d collapse right here in her entrance hall.

Mrs. Gold must have seen him begin to sway on his feet, and she gasped, her eyebrows raising again.  Taking his arm, she led him up a flight of stairs to the first room on the left, promising to bring him a bracing cup of tea after he’d had a chance to rest.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma went down to the shore one evening a week later, feeling the need to walk, to get away, to blow off some of this pent up energy and emotion she was feeling.

She’d taken in boarders before, plenty of times.  Usually they were pleasant couples or older gentlemen.  She’d had the occasional issue with one of her boarders–someone who was a little too forward, who made a few too many innuendoes, who saw her as some sort of prize to be won, despite her married state.  

She’d never had trouble rebuffing them.  She could take care of herself, and normally it took no more than a single, icy stare to shut them down completely.  The one time a rather lecherous man named Walsh had refused to take no for an answer, she’d kneed him in a rather sensitive area.  When she’d told Captain Nemo about the situation later, he’d had a stern talk with the unfortunate man.  One that had involved his fists. An hour later, Mr. Walsh had shown up sporting quite the shiner.  He’d meekly apologized and then told her he meant to vacate the premises.

Kiliian Jones was….well he was something different altogether.  He was nothing like any of the other boarders she’d taken in.  The first time she’d seen him standing on her doorstep, it had taken everything in her not to drop her jaw.  He was a beautiful man.  Beyond beautiful.  Even pale and wan as he’d been, he’d set her heart fluttering with a single glance of those ocean-blue eyes.

Killian had been nothing but a gentleman ever since he’d arrived.  He’d been friendly, congenial, and always eager to help her with whatever she needed.  More than once he’d taken Neal off her hands for an hour or two so that she could run errands.  He’d been, in short, the perfect boarder.

But sometimes he flirted, rather outrageously. So outrageously, in fact, that she knew he was trying to make her laugh, to lighten this undeniable tension between them, this unspoken something that she could neither explain nor truly understand.  Sometimes she’d catch a look in his eye when he didn’t think she was watching, something longing and intense.  It made her stomach swoop and her heart race.

Emma remembered one day, a few weeks after her marriage, going to visit Neal’s cousin, Gideon.  The two men looked rather similar, but their personalities couldn’t have been farther apart.  Gideon was warm, personable and endlessly thoughtful.  He’d been the ideal host.  On the second day of their visit, he introduced them to Violet, the young woman who had caught his fancy.

Emma would never forget the way the two of them looked at each other–as though the sun rose and set in the other’s eyes.  While the men were otherwise occupied, Violet had taken Emma aside and confided her happiness.

“Every time I see him,” she’d gushed, “every time I even hear his name spoken, I get the butterflies.”

Emma had looked at her blankly.  “Pardon?”

“You know,” Violet had gone on, “butterflies.  That swooping feeling of being in love.  That feeling that your beloved is the most precious person in the world and your day is incomplete if it doesn’t involve him.”

Emma didn’t know, not at the time at least.

Now she did.  Now she understood all too well what Violet had meant, and she hated herself for it.

This man was her boarder, and she was married for heaven’s sake!  These feelings she was having, the way her heart yearned for….for something she couldn’t even put into words was utterly unacceptable.

If she were smart, she’d put a professional distance between them.  She’d lay down boundaries, insisting that he lead his life and she lead hers and other than the normal interactions of a landlord and a boarder, never the twain should cross.

But she couldn’t.

The fact is, she liked him.  It went beyond this strange fancy she’d taken to him.  She liked him.  She liked their easy camaraderie.  They’d already fallen into something of a routine.  Most nights they walked together over to the Nolan’s house or to the lighthouse to spend a few hours with Mary Margaret and David, Captain Nemo and Granny, and yes, often Marco Gepetto.  Those evenings were spent with laughter and good company.  They were a balm to Emma’s lonely spirit.

And at the end of the evening, she had Killian to walk home with.  They’d talk and laugh over the day's events, sometimes engage in heart to hearts, sometimes just walk together in easy silence.  It was so nice to have someone to go home with, a companion and friend to while away the long summer days with.

She was playing a dangerous game; she knew she was.  When the summer came to an end, Killian Jones would return to his home in Montreal, and she would bid him a pleasant but detached farewell, knowing she’d likely never see him again.  She had to.  She was, after all, still a married woman despite Neal being, well, Neal.  There was no other way this could end.

But somehow, the thought of that parting hurt worse than all the lonely years she’d spent before Killian had come into her life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian chuckled as he and Emma left the Four Winds lighthouse one evening in late June, the sound of Granny and Marco’s bickering ushering them out into the temperate night air.

“Do you think those two will ever stop arguing long enough to admit they’re hopelessly sweet on each other?” Emma asked with a smile that had the power to light up even the darkest night.

Killian laughed again.  “Not until the Grits retake the government,” he said.

Emma’s musical laughter peeled out into the night.  “Have you ever heard anything as ridiculous in your life?”

Killian and Emma had spent the evening at the lighthouse, along with the Nolans, Granny, Marco, and of course, Captain Nemo.  It was a common occurrence, and Killian enjoyed every moment of it.  Within the space of an hour, he felt like he’d known this group of people all his life.

Kindred spirits they certainly were.  They were, what Granny would call “The race that knows Merlin”.  Killian had no idea of the origin of the phrase, but from what he gathered it meant people who understood each other, liked each other, belonged in each other’s lives.

That night, as they’d whiled away the hours, David Nolan had suddenly turned to Marco.  “Mr. Gepetto,” he’d said, “I simply must know.  What is the reason for your…unusual…manner of grooming?”

Granny had made an annoyed sound and rolled her eyes.  “He’s a fool, that’s what,” she’d said.  “Just like a man!”

“Present company excluded, of course,” Mary Margaret had said.

“Jury’s still out on that, Mary Margaret, dearie,” Granny had said.  “But back to the fool sitting next to me.  Going on twelve years ago now, a parliamentary election was afoot, and Mr. Gepetto got it in his head that his party–the Grits–were going to win the day.”

“And they should have!” Marco said heatedly.  “All signs pointed to it!”

Granny eloquently ignored his interruption. “So there we all were, the night of the election, down at Leroy’s general store waiting for the results to be announced.  Leroy’s was the only establishment in the village with a telephone at the time.  There’d been a heated discussion about who would win power, and that absolute dunderhead over there was so all-fired convinced his party would win that he made a vow. ‘As all of you are my witness,’ he said, ‘I vow I will never cut my hair or shave my beard until the Grits are once again in power!”

“And I kept my vow,” Marco said with a solemn nod.

“Oh no one’s doubting your sheer pig-headedness, dearie,” Granny said.  “As you well know, the Grits didn’t win that election–nor any of the ones that have followed, and so there you have it–a man with far more hair than brains.”

“What do you think will happen if the Grits ever take power again?” Emma asked with a smirk, bringing Killian back to the present.

“My guess?” Killian said, “he’ll wake up the barber the second the news is announced and get a 12 years overdue haircut.”

As he and Emma walked companionably back to the house, Killian contemplated the rest of the evening.  He’d always loved visiting the lighthouse.  Captain Nemo had such exciting stories of his adventures on the high seas.  The man was a born storyteller, and he loved his captive audience, spinning his yarns with the best of them.

On this particular night, instead of starting in on his stories right away, he’d rummaged in his old sea chest and produced a battered and worn leather-bound notebook, held it for a moment, and then extended it to Killian.

“I’m not much for writing,” he’d said almost shyly, “but I’m alone in this world, no family left, and it doesn’t sit right with me, my stories dying with me when the time comes. And so I wrote them down, everything I could remember, in this, here, journal.  I’d….I’d like you to read it, lad, give you a chance to really come to know this old sea salt.”

Killian had taken the volume eagerly, and would have opened it on the spot if the old man hadn’t stopped him with a hand on his.  “You wait until I’m not around.  My way of writing is…well, I’m real embarrassed to show it to a real, proper writer.”

He’d honored Nemo’s wishes, but it was taking everything in him not to crack the volume open right here on the dirt path as they walked back to the Gold house.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Emma asked?

She was evidently paying such close attention to him that she didn’t notice the raised tree root in the road before her.  She tripped, and would have sprawled into the dirt if Killian hadn't caught her in his arms.

For a long moment suspended in time they stood silent, frozen in time and space as his arms surrounded her, the only sound of the crickets in the night.  Her eyes widened, and he saw something there–yearning, desire, aching awareness.

He knew his reflected the same.  If things were different, if their circumstances were different, he’d pull her to him on the spot and kiss her as though her lips brought him oxygen.

As it was, the urge to do just that was so overwhelming it took all his stores of self-control to hold back.  “Emma,” he breathed raggedly after a moment.

With the word, the spell was broken.  She quickly jumped back, her face so aflame, he could see it even in the dim moonlight.  She chuckled nervously as they began walking once again.  “Thanks,” she said, her voice a bit breathless.

“You’re welcome, love,” he said, putting the slightest emphasis on the final word.

They walked in silence for long moments, both trying to compose themselves once again, before Killian finally answered Emma’s question from before the incident.  “I had a thought, Mrs. Gold.”

He said her married name with aching formality, knowing they needed the distance before they did something they each would regret.

“What’s that, Mr. Jones?” she said, in a tone which matched the formality of his own.

“I told you I’ve long wanted to write a novel,” he said, and she nodded in answer. “I’ve lacked only a truly substantial plot, but tonight gave me an idea.”

She looked at him curiously but didn’t speak.

“Captain Nemo wants his tales to live on after his passing,” Killian said. “What if my writing were just the way to help him do so?  What if he and I work together–he provides the stories and I provide the writing acumen?  This could be the novel I’ve always dreamed of writing!”

Suddenly the awkwardness of a few moments before was gone, and Emma’s eyes sparkled up at him with enthusiasm.  “I think it is a fantastic idea!” Emma said with relish.  

And so it was that “The Life Book of Captain Nemo” took form.  For several months, Killian had felt rudderless, as though there were no real meaning in his life, nothing beyond the endless drudgery, but in his few short weeks in the Harbor–in his few weeks with his new found friends–

–In my few weeks with Emma, his heart supplied–

He’d found his purpose, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes:

–This was one of my favorite chapters to write!  Yes, there was some angst and unspoken yearning, but a lot of it was fluff and romance–which, those of you familiar with my writing, know is my comfort zone.  It is also, by far, the longest chapter of this fic.

–With regard to Marco’s unusual grooming, let me just say, I know nothing about Canadian politics, aside from who the current prime minister is.  Politics a few centuries ago?  Forget it!  I have no idea if the Grit party is even still around, and if they are what they stand for.  So if you’re Canadian–neither offense nor endorsement was intended.  This story was taken directly from the source material itself.  It’s so quirky and funny, I felt it really needed to remain in a story that drops around an election season in the U.S. (We could CERTAINLY use some levity when it comes to politics.)

–Up next: Killian finishes his book as the summer comes to a close.  Both Killian and Emma confide in Mary Margaret, and David makes an agonizing discovery that has the potential to upend Emma’s entire life.  Prepare yourself for quite the cliff hanger! (Not literally.  There are no cliffs involved.)

NEXT CHAPTER->

[gffa]

Saw you're posting the spoilers form this week's Batman so i'm guessing you've read it. My heart just broke reading it, i do wonder how the family is going to get out of this. Like this issue alone Bruce telling Jason he should kill him like my heart

I'm still really on the fence about what Gotham War is setting up, because I'm still so annoyed by how bad the arguments of the characters are, I'm annoyed by how it feels like cheap drama to break the Batfamily up again because they don't know how to do drama any other way, but also I can't lie, I don't find Bruce to be that out of character, because he's in a really bad place and the narrative isn't portraying him as morally correct. Everything with Jason really hurt, but Bruce can be cruel when his mental health is in the toilet (and this storyline is leaning hard on Bruce's mental illness being really, really bad right now) and I don't take it that he was serious at all, he had no intention of actually killing Jason, he was following up on Jason's argument--if it's okay that Selina's way got someone killed, if that death being an acceptable sacrifice was fine, then why wouldn't Jason's death be acceptable, to stop him from killing more people? And the thing is, Bruce doesn't believe that Roland Gardner's death was an acceptable loss, just as he doesn't believe that Jason's death would be acceptable, either. But Jason was deliberately goading him, Jason was being cruel when attacking him, and Bruce snapped at him, but I don't think for a second it was meant to be serious. It was an ugly fight between a father and a son who find themselves on the opposite sides of an argument that is dragging up a LOT of issues for them. For Bruce, I've made my case on this with the first Gotham War issue and I think it still holds true, that a lot of his biased reactions are coming from a place of feeling betrayed by his kids, the ones he took in because they were victims like him, ones who stood up and said, "I will never let this happen to anyone else." so hard that he couldn't stop them, could only have ever put a leash on them, and now suddenly they're saying, "I guess this can happen to some people." and that's a betrayal of the very foundation of why they do what they do, in his eyes. And that tracks for me with what he thinks when he's fighting the kids together:

I think this storyline has been an interesting look at Bruce, where they're touching on his class issues, but also the heart of the reason he does anything and the biases that he brings to the table and that his mental illnesses are having an absolute party in his brain right now, like he's literally hallucinating and he slumps down against the wall and thinks about how shaky his control feels, how he feels isolated from his family, like this isn't Bruce being perfectly right and correct, this is him in the middle of a bad spiral and I think that's a potentially interesting storyline. Because he's full of so much doubt--it's TWO ISSUES into this series and in BOTH OF THEM, Bruce has had a major moment of falling apart and wondering what the hell he's doing, and while the storyline is billed as "Who's the one in the right?" here, I don't think that's what it's actually shaping up to be. This is a story about a traumatized character reacting very badly to having his mental health tanking and feeling like he's losing everything, only playing out on the stage that is Gotham. (I'm less enthused about the other characters' reasons, like I'm not sure I believe Tim or Dick or Barbara or Cass would go along with Selina's way, even if crime is down, those kids are stubborn and they didn't just agree with Bruce because they were scared of him, Bruce couldn't tell those kids shit about what to do, they had their own opinions, and while I buy that they'd think he's going too far, and I agree they would try to stop him here, because they're trying to talk him down, not make an enemy of him. So, I can see everything pretty okay in this issue, I'm just not sure enough thought will be given to ALL the characters that have a part to play in this story, beyond just Bruce.)

[makingspiritualityreal]

Firstly, I love your posts soo much!!

Maybe it is the effect of pluto and sun transiting the Aquarius!! that I have an idea..just hear me out.

I wish there were some free open astrology forums that helped people by telling them one positive life event that individual can look forward to based on their charts.

In fact, it would be so nice if the predictive astrology could start offering predictions about more positive events to look forward to such that it becomes slightly easy to bear with what's happening at the present.

Just saying...

💛

Are Predictions Important in Astrology?

I appreciate your message, and it is an excellent time to talk about my perspective on the subject.

I am not a fan of predictive Astrology. I say this as a person who completely understands how it is to feel such despair that you feel like you can't go on another second without having the assurance that your life will get better soon. That's also why people turn to more abstract means of divination, such as tarot.

However, these tools should be used to understand the flow of your life and what your current growth path is about. They're not a take out menu that you pick from. Insistence on predictions has caused many astrologers to be treated very instrumentally. Some people think a psychic is someone who's supposed to just deliver the version of the future that the client is going to like to hear. "you will get married in a year and it will be a June wedding" yeah right lol.

I know many good astrologers. I have yet to see even the best ones I know make a single accurate prediction. When events such as death, loss or illnesses in my family were happening, it was always a surprise. We're not supposed to know such things. Fun fact, my psychic abilities were tingling, up to a year ahead even, but I always ignored them in key moments.

I will explain it to you through an example. My mother died prematurely when I was barely out of high school. She was a single mother, and her death put me on the outs with the rest of my family, that showed their true colours in a difficult situation. It was a shock to everyone because she was very physically healthy and fit, and way too young to die and yet it happened.

A year before her death, she left me alone for the summer in the condo where I grew up with her. I was working in my hometown at that time, in between college semesters, and she found an extra paid summer job with some of our family members that live abroad. It was the first time in my life, that I was without her for that long, and to be frank, I loved the independence, like any very young person does when you let them "off the leash". I remember very clearly the day she left. We used to have family pictures taped to a glass door on a living room cabinet. My grandfather was an avid photographer and we always had plenty of photos with him around. One of the pictures was a close up of my eyes. Because the glass cabinet was positioned close to the living room window, the sun was always streaming in on it. That can cause discoloration in printed photos. On that day, the picture of my eyes had the sun leave long marks on it in such a way, that they looked like tears.

I believe this to be the strongest psychic experience I've ever had, even though I still had years of spiritual learning ahead of me at that point. Because upon seeing that picture, I knew my mom was going to die, and that it was going to cause grief in my life, even though it took over a year for that prediction to come true. I never told anyone about it, and never took that feeling seriously.

Why? Because it was so unbelievable. Because logic was against it. Because I had my own personal feelings and egoic consciousness, that had completely different feelings and desires about my life circumstances. And because it wasn't yet the time of my life when I was mature enough to treat my spiritual journey seriously.

And that is how it was meant to be at the time. Looking back on it now, I remember the feeling of prediction more as a moment of awareness. It was like seeing an inevitable chain of events unfold. Something in my consciousness was smart enough to be able to see so far ahead. Spiritually, I believe it was a warning from my spirit guides, and in a way a friendly one. "Get used to being alone and handling life alone for more than one summer vacation because it's soon gonna become your reality". But I couldn't take it seriously, because my mom and I were fighting a lot at that time, so missing her was not what I had in mind at all. I craved independence, and that feeling was my reality, which I took more seriously than some abstract premonition. In a way, knowing didn't really help me at all in the moment.

And that situation shows perfectly what the problem is with predictions. Human beings are limited by their egos and their flaws and their lack of perspective. That makes them reject whatever doesn't currently fit into their narrative. People don't want a real prediction. They want to hear they're going to get the cookie they're craving. Then they want it over and over and over again.

I understand my journey now, so many years after all these events. But it took so much growing up, that no prediction would ever fix.

There is always something to look forward to in life. Don't try to control it, and let it come to you. When the Universe wants to put you through a certain experience, it will, and there is nothing you can do about it.

[therenlover]

Put Me Back In It (I Would Do It Again) Chapter Six: Moments Of Truth

Pairings: Tav/Raphael, Past!Astarion/Tav, Haarlep/Raphael

Word Count: 7,200~

Synopsis: Tav finally confronts Raphael about the holes in his version of the truth. Haarlep regains their routine.

Rating: M (+18)

Warnings: Emotional Manipulation, Brief Mentions of Past Abuse

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Dreams, Memory Loss, Regaining Memories, Everyone Is Lying and Mentally Ill, Love Triangles, Hurt/Comfort, Unrequited Love

You can find this fic on AO3 Here or find the other finished chapters on Tumblr Here

--------

The colors in the portal room really were beautiful.

From her seat on the floor, Tav could see the combined hues of a whole universe unfolding before her through the glimmering glass of their mirrors. A miniature dragon soared over a dwarfed frozen landscape in the distance. It swooped low on the horizon before flapping its wings and flying into the distance. She watched it go with an absent fascination. Around her, the world burned. 

“I told you that she would bring us nothing but problems!” Haarlep raged, wings flaring behind them.

Raphael was pacing the room. His own wings were drooping low against the floor as he picked at his claws. “And I told you to watch her! If you’d done your job for once, none of this would have happened,”

“Don’t you dare blame this on me,” The incubus stormed up to the devil. “She is your pet project, not mine. Any failure of hers is due to your failure to keep her in line,” Chest to chest they formed an odd juxtaposition. So similar, and yet Tav would know immediately which was which from the looks on their faces alone. 

She smiled absently at the thought as Raphael cocked his head to the side. “Say that again,” 

“This is your failure, not mine,” Haarlep hissed. 

The room burst into a supernova of orange light. 

It was beautiful in a twisted way. More flames soared through the heavy air, spewing sparks and ash and even breaking one of the great mirrors, sending shards of glass in every direction. Tav could feel them landing in her hair like burning snow. She still smiled, even as blood ran down her forehead. 

Everything felt like a dream.

Haarlep’s green robes were singed, some of the silver tassels melting clean off in the heat of the inferno. They still stood, though. Despite everything, they didn’t back down. “Do you think you can scare me with your magic tricks?” 

“I suggest you stop testing me before I have to tighten your leash,” Raphael took a step away and then it was back to more pacing, taking quick laps around his half of the room. Haarlep didn’t reply. The animosity was still there, but the smoke and fire on every side seemed to even their tempers, at least a bit. “We haven’t lost yet,” 

“Haven’t we?” Something deflated in Haarlep’s chest. “They’re going to come for us, Raphael, and even if we get lucky enough to kill the first of them more will come to avenge the last.” 

“Then I’ll just kill them all, one by one,” Raphael stated confidently.

“And when Mystra lends the wizard her power to make sure you’re defeated? When the full power of a vampire lord’s army descends on the House of Hope? Be honest with yourself, they’ve bested us before with less and they will best us again,” 

The devil shook his head. “Things are different now. This time, they don’t have her. Besides,” The flames dulled a bit as Raphael calmed, gaining back that infallible confidence that he usually exuded with every word. “I hope to avoid the fighting altogether. If it truly comes down to it I’ll just have to make another deal,” With every passing second the devil was writing a new script to perform, setting the stage for his next great performance, and she could watch the wonder growing in his eyes as his plans solidified. He was invincible in the world he’d created for himself. Not even rationale could convince him otherwise. 

Haarlep let out a sigh, shoulders wilting, and Tav watched them with heavy-lidded eyes. They had always been so kind, so strong in the face of Raphael’s power. Was that part of their responsibility while taking care of her or did they choose to show her mercy? She didn’t have the mind left to speculate. Instead, a euphoric hysteria shut down her body and kept her right there, glued to the floor even as the thick, hot liquid began to run into her eyes.

Despite it all, she felt more like herself than she had in years. 

“You’re really depending on that? On another deal? After how well that’s worked out with me?” Tav asked, blood dripping further down her face. 

Raphael regarded her with a burning gaze. “I suggest you keep your mouth shut,” 

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” She laughed. Red coated her teeth, spewing from drips on her lips and tongue with every wheezing giggle. “That doesn’t change things for me. I’m down here with you either way. Are you looking forward to wrangling Karlach’s soul too? Or Wyll’s? Hells, you’ll have a whole party of us down here to deal with by the end of it, and for what? Because they’ve finally exposed your lies?” Tav shook her head. Shards of glass fell from her hair to the ground with soft tinkling, like the ringing of fae bells. “Which is funny, because all this time I genuinely believed I traded my soul to you in exchange for keeping the Crown of Karsus safe, but if I had, then Karlach would’ve known exactly where I’ve been all these years.” 

The devil flexed his wings, chest heaving in the smoke. 

All eyes were on her. 

Every inch of her felt unsteady in the heat. Sweat soaked through the silk of her now-torn dress, still shimmering so brilliantly even in the horrid orange light, but she pushed herself up onto her feet. Her hands burned. Her whole body burned. She hadn’t felt that much pain in a long, long time. In some odd way, she’d missed the reminder that she was still alive, despite it all. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” 

“Tav,” Haarlep warned. 

Raphael held up a hand. His face slowly morphed into an unreadable, suave mask as he clenched and unclenched the fist at his side. “Let her wear herself out, Haarlep,” His wings fluttered slightly before tucking themselves back in neatly against his shoulder blades as he approached. “No, I didn’t intend to tell you. We were just starting to be happy. Why would I change that?” He paused. “We could be happy again, you and I. Just drop this,”  

Tav could feel the bile rising in her stomach. “Was I happy? Or was I getting used to you controlling every moment of my life?” 

He had the nerve to scoff at her in response. “What does it matter? You had no pain. You were well kept; given a place of comfort in my home no matter how unbefitting your behavior may have been, and taken out into the world when you expressed displeasure with the place you were given. I have been nothing but permissive of you. I brought you into my family as an honored guest as opposed to a possession. What more would it have taken to make you happy?” His voice edged on desperate as he approached. 

“The truth!” Tav shouted, “I want the truth!” 

The closer Raphael got, the weaker she felt in his looming shadow. Ghosts of her own uncertainty swarmed around them. Only a few hours could’ve passed since she was excitedly picking at her breakfast, staring up at a man she had convinced herself that she was madly in love with. Had she convinced herself, though, or had she loved him before everything changed? If she’d never learned the truth, would everyone have been better off? 

She didn’t deny that. She couldn’t deny it. 

Leaving the careful sphere of Raphael’s influence, even with his blessing, had led to the destruction of all the comfort she’d built for herself. Now the life she had and the life she’d known would rip and tear at each other's throats until only a victor remained. If it were Raphael she’d expect it. Nothing would change. Grief and pain would haunt her for six more years, or however many it took for her to lose her mind in the labyrinth he’d built to contain her, but she would keep living as she had been. 

If he lost though… it should’ve been the best case. Going home, gaining back her soul, finding her friends, setting off on the next big adventure; she’d wanted it so badly for so long. So why did it make the knot in her stomach expand? Why did the thought of seeing Raphael and Haarlep strewn across the bloody floor set her legs into another fit of shakes? 

When had she stopped wanting to go home? 

When had Avernus become home? 

Tav didn’t know what she wanted anymore, besides to fill in the gaps in her memory that seemed to sit wide open like windows into her weeping mind. Her life was out of her control. In fact, it had been out of her control since she’d wound up on that Illithid ship all those years before, hurtling through the same burning skies that watched over her now. 

“Do you truly want to know?” Raphael asked solemnly. 

For the first time in a while, Tav made her choice entirely for herself, knowing the consequences and choosing to take them in stride. “Yes,” 

“Follow me,” Raphael turned on his heel, traipsing out of the smoldering room without so much as a backward glance, leaving Tav in his wake. 

She moved one leg forward, then the next. Blood was still dripping down her face and hands but it was easy to ignore when it was paired with the roiling nausea and burns that covered most of her exposed skin. Haarlep made no moves to assist her. Instead, they nursed their own wounds and made their way to the broken mirror, gathering the shards in a pile with an unseen magehand. They only spared one silent glimpse as she started her shuffling, dragging walk out of the room. 

So much for that friendship.  

It took far longer than it should have but eventually, Tav made her way out of the mirror room and into the House of Hope’s great round hallway. Raphael was standing a ways down at the entrance to his personal office, and as soon as he caught her eye he was quick to walk inside, leaving her struggling to shuffle after him once again. When she finally reached him for good, he was standing at the edge of his desk. He had taken his human form again, which should’ve been a kindness but instead just made him even harder to read as he turned to face her.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Tav?” He asked. She could find no emotion hiding in his voice, no rage or concern hanging from his words. Just a great emptiness. She missed his explosive dramatics now that they were nowhere to be found. 

Still, she steeled herself. “Why am I here, Raphael?” 

The devil didn’t answer, instead gesturing to a small, oval crystal sitting on his desk. 

Tav had seen similar ones before, great crystal balls in Raphael’s displayed collections that trapped memories of some of his less fortunate souls. This one, though, was far smaller, as if it had been cut and carved to fit into someone’s palm or pocket. It glinted in the candlelight. The stone must have been ruby or garnet, reflecting a deep red against its flat face and all its small, shimmering facets along the side. 

She approached the desk slowly and gathered the stone in her bleeding hand. 

Her skin was slick enough that it almost slipped out from her trembling fingers, but she managed to hold it in her cupped hands, letting the face sit upright. Even when she watched the small figure rushing through the red landscape within that shining jewel she kept a fast grip on it. Because it was him. 

Tav couldn’t see her own face in the facsimile, only her trembling hands outstretched before her in defense, but she would recognize the pale man she was looking at anywhere as he lunged at her, throwing her against some unknown surface. 

The memory itched at the back of her brain. It floated through that open window in her mind and settled back in, slotting into its place like it had always been there, but it wasn’t quite complete. Instead, it was a red-tinted ghost, silent and sure, just as it appeared in the stone before her. 

“I thought I would spare you the shame of knowing what you became after your defeat of the netherbrain,” Raphael mused, “but you’ve given me no choice,” 

In the stone, the man brought his lips to her neck, holding down her trembling arms.

“No,” Tav’s voice shook. She felt the nausea building again and yet she could not bring herself to put it down. 

The pale elf left her on the ground after a while, and the version of herself Tav couldn’t quite remember scrambled to a loose floorboard the moment the heavy door shut behind him, prying it up and grabbing components from their hiding place below. Her own blood was used as the final puzzle piece as she laid the items in their proper order on the floor. 

“Once upon a time, you were in love with a rogue who showered you with all of his horrid love and affection. You trusted him with your fragile, mortal heart despite the fact that he was nothing more than a monster, driven by his predator’s instincts to lure you in and possess you. When he demanded power, you laid it at his feet,” Raphael brought a fist down against the corner of the desk, shaking the books and pens that littered the surface. “And as soon as he had you alone, he betrayed you,” 

The name was at her lips before she had a chance to think about it, pulling the puzzle together. “Astarion,” 

Raphael didn’t need to nod for her to know she was right. “You were his cattle; food for a hungry vampiric lord and his army. If you felt as though you were a prisoner here, you have no inkling of how locked away you were in his castle. None of your little friends came to save you either. They knew his power, and they left you to be victim to it,” 

Tav shook her head in disbelief. She had been a hero, hadn’t she? She’d been strong enough to save all of Baldur’s Gate, so why hadn’t she been strong enough to destroy the evil right in front of her? In the ruby, she was on her knees painting the familiar red sigil and then she was up on weak legs, running through a familiar hall towards a great set of doors. 

No.

It couldn’t be. 

She couldn’t have… could she?

“And who stood at your side after everything? When you had nothing more than your very soul to offer for protection against the vampiric hordes that threatened to slaughter us both if they found you? Who hid away the shameful memories that haunted you, even knowing you’d blame me for your captivity because of it?” 

She dropped the crystal on the desk as she watched Raphael appear before her through her past tear-filled eyes. 

Something that had been teetering at the edge for longer than she could remember finally, finally toppled over. The small shred of herself she’d gained back fell into the abyss with it. 

“You saved me,” Tav whimpered. 

Her chest felt empty. Where was her heart? Where had it run to? She could feel every shard of glass littering the skin of her palms and scalp, but no heartbeat in her ears. 

A quiet rage crept into Raphael’s words as he stepped away from her. “And now you’ve doomed us all. Those fools you called friends will go right to the man that you sold your soul to escape, and all of this will have been for nothing,” 

Tav finished things for him before he could. “This is my fault,” 

A cold certainty fell over the room as she wrapped an arm around herself, using the other to hold up her swaying body against the desk. In the stone, she caught a glimpse of herself collapsed in Haarlep’s arms. All of the nightmares suddenly made sense. 

Those bloody nights were real. Every horrific vision she’d tossed and turned through was a mirror image of a whole life she’d forgotten at that pale elf’s side. As she tried to grasp at the time she’d lost so much was still entirely missing. She could barely remember how she’d felled Orin or saved the grove. Was that Raphael’s doing, or her faulty mind’s after six years? And how had she failed to notice until now? The answer was plain. She hadn’t wanted to think about it. She’d been so focused on her new life in Avernus that, at least after a while, she’d given up on everything she’d known before. Was she really the hero of Baldur’s Gate if she couldn’t remember the person she was when she’d saved it?

Who was she anyway? 

The questions encircled Tav as they had for years now, but she finally faced them with open eyes. 

She was a mere mortal in the presence of powers beyond her comprehension; a lucky, foolish mortal who’d had a chance at greatness and seemingly sold it for the love of evil men. It was almost laughable to look at the pattern she left behind. She didn’t know what she wanted. If those who had been her closest friends perished in their quests to save her from a fate she’d sealed herself, she wasn’t sure how much it would hurt. If her captors— no, her saviors— fell in the fights to come, the pain would be immeasurable. 

The sun would rise and the sun would set, just not for her to see, and pain would follow her everywhere she walked, just as it always had. 

Alcohol and adrenaline rushed through her veins as she brought her wet gaze to Raphael’s. He was still unreadable there, arms crossed in the dim light. Tav shamefully wanted him to reach for her, to pick the glass from her hands and lay with her in his bed until everything was just a bad dream on the horizon. She wanted to punch him so hard that his teeth scattered across the floor. She wanted more than anything, though, to cease being and just surrender to him. He’d taken such good care of her, after all, for all that time. He could do it again. 

All it would take was letting go.

“How do I fix it,” she asked, voice uneven. 

Raphael shook his head. “You don’t. You let me fix it, because I always clean up after your messes,” he growled, “though maybe I should leave you to pick up after yourself this time. Maybe it would teach you just how much I do for you,” There was something wild in his eyes. She embraced it. If he had decided to devour her soul on the spot she wouldn’t have fought him, she would’ve leaned into the twisted warmth of the only love she might ever know, the pathetic creature that she was. Tav stumbled into him without thinking about moving her feet. 

The devil spluttered as her bleeding hands found his chest. “I’m sorry. Please fix it,” She wanted to crawl into him, feel the warmth of his hellish pulse surround and consume her. Underneath the grandeur and fear, there was a sort of home against his flesh for her, the only home this new cowardly Tav had ever really known. “Please fix me,” 

“I…” Raphael raised his hands but did not push her away. His heart missed a few beats, stilling against her forehead. “What are you doing Tav?” 

She repeated her apologies like a prayer, and in a way they were. The fine purple silk of his doublet was wet with blood and tears as she fisted her hands in it. No matter how he shifted she didn’t let up. After all of her time in Avernus, she’d finally gone mad with him. Insanity wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. 

He moved his mouth but no words came out as she desperately grasped at him. Her chest was heaving. She was breathing, she knew she was breathing, but the air felt thick and tight like no matter how many lungfuls she took in a breath couldn’t make it past her mouth. Her head pounded. She was so tired. 

Raphael looked down at her, his wobbling, morphing face taking on something that almost seemed like baffled concern, cupping her stained cheek in his large, warm hand.  

Tav pressed into his touch desperately. His searing warmth was an anchor into a body that seemed to drift further and further from her mind with every passing moment. “Please, I love you, I’m sorry,” 

“Sleep,”

The spell was almost instantaneous but left her conscious just long enough to watch a shimmer of shock run through the devil’s very being. Then the misery ended. 

———

Tav could smell bacon cooking in the kitchen when she opened her eyes. 

Sunshine was gleaming on her face and she could hear the creaking of wheels on cobbles beyond the window she’d rested her head on for an afternoon nap more times than she could count. Outside, Baldur’s Gate woke for the morning. 

Dust floated lazily through motes of morning light, covering Tav’s eyelashes like snow. 

“Darling, breakfast!” A voice called. 

She wandered through the room, following where she was beckoned. Everything was just as she’d remembered it. Books were still piled in the corner around her father’s favorite reading chair, waiting for him to return from another magical pilgrimage or another, while her mother’s sword and mace sat mid-polish on the low table in the front room. The living room fireplace was smoking embers from the night before. Mother must have been up all night setting up to defend some new client or another.

Did the books know her father wasn’t coming back? 

Tav did. 

She lingered just long enough to stroke her fingers against the well-worn covers. Those piles had always dwarfed her as a small child, looking like mountains towering over her small stature, but now they looked so small compared to the books she’d seen gathered in the tombs and homes across Faerun she’d pillaged with her friends. It still smelled like pipeweed and parchment though. She breathed him in and let him go as she passed through the warmly furnished home towards the stoney kitchen. 

“I’m sure you’re hungry,” her mother’s voice called from the distance, “You’ve been working so hard, Tav. Come sit with me. Tell me about your day, love” 

Oh, to sit and share breakfast with her mother one more time. 

“Mama, I have so much to tell you,” Tav breathed, hand skimming the plastered walls as she turned the corner into the kitchen. Her mouth and eyes were watering. “I was a hero, Mom; a real hero. Dad would’ve been so-” 

Haarlep turned from the great hearth, pan in hand, wearing her mother’s steel armor like a second skin as they poked around at the strips of sizzling meat with a spoon. Her mother's voice came from their chest as if they were playing some sort of strange thaumaturgical trick on her.

“Haarlep?” 

The incubus shook their head. “Always getting into trouble with your little friends,” her mother’s laugh was like church bells, but they clanged dissonantly in an unfamiliar mouth, “I’m just so glad to have you home in one piece. You shouldn’t leave them waiting too long, though. My daughter, the hero,”

Clouds blotted out the sun. Haarlep’s orange eyes lit the room as it was plunged into shadow. 

Tav’s stomach dropped. 

“They’re waiting for you, Tav,” they whispered, tongue tracing their small fangs as they turned to look back down the hall behind her. 

She turned without waiting to hear if they had anything else to say. She didn’t want to hear it. Not from her mother’s voice. 

Every footfall was an earthquake as she followed the endless hall back towards the living room. When it appeared before her, it was bare. Tarps laid over the furniture like looming ghosts, covered in a thick layer of grime. The boarded windows hid it from the world, letting in thin streams of moonlight through the thin gaps in the slats. Moths ate the rotting pages of her father’s beloved collection. Rust gathered on the pile of left-behind equipment in the corner, armor stand long rotted and collapsed. It was all just as she’d left it. 

A light flickered in the rooms beyond. 

Tav followed. She knew where she’d be expected. 

Her room was lit by hundreds of little candles, dripping wax around an open coffin on the wooden floor. The elf and the devil stood by with matching grins. 

She stumbled into the wall. All of a sudden she was Allicent down the owlbear den, lost in the weaving paths of the faewild, and yet she was right at home where she had longed to be. Her gaze was lost in the velvet lining of the ebony box at her feet. All at once she was a small child and moments away from death. 

Raphael held out a hand. “We’ve been waiting for you,” 

“Come along, darling. Don’t be difficult,” The other— Astarion, she had to remind herself— nodded along and held out his own palm. “We want to help you,” 

She took their hands into her own and let them help her into the bed she’d made, one cool and one searing. The world spun in a smoky haze. Astarion pulled a blanket over her shivering body while Raphael stroked her sweaty, matted hair. 

“Do you love me?” She whispered.

“Yes,” they replied in unison. 

The fire grew around them, creeping up the walls as the smoke got thicker in the air. Tav felt like she was floating through a grey sea as the men began to char and burn. She watched their clothing peel and disintegrate on their skin. She didn’t even scream when the ceiling caved in.

———

Tav woke in a room she didn’t recognize, tossing in sweat-soaked sheets. 

There were no windows, just one large door in the stone walls that she knew would be locked tight before she even got up to try it. A cup of wine sat on the stone floor beside her cot with a small bowl of some sort of oats, long cold. Across the room, a chamberpot waited empty for her. 

She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. 

Someone had dressed her in a plain cotton shift. It scratched against the burns on her legs and torso, catching on the still-sticky skin, but at least it was blissfully cool against the oppressive heat of the cell, letting small drafts flow and cool the sweat-soaked fabric. Whoever it was who’d brought her there hadn’t just dressed her, though. They’d taken the time to heal her hands, and well. The skin was flawless again. Every piece of glass would’ve needed to be painstakingly removed before the skin was sealed over, and they were. Not a single jagged bit pressed from under her soft palm as she pressed her thumbs into the fragile muscle. The absence of pain was almost disappointing. 

As she wrapped her arms around her shins her bladder screamed louder than even her pounding head. She ignored it, though. She ignored it all. 

———

Haarlep had always been a creature of habit, and they liked it that way. 

When Tav first arrived their routine had gone ass-up. After six years, though, the incubus was once again waking up alone in Raphael’s bed. They fell back on their old ways as easy as breathing. 

What’s six years to a millennia, after all? 

Mornings started early with an hour of lounging, then came breakfast. They weren’t a huge eater, it was all for pleasure as opposed to sustenance, so any leftovers were taken down to the snake pit and dangled over the debtors like bait. Once they were bored of that game they’d settle down to paint or read. Before Tav, he’d finish up his hobby of the day and that was about when Raphael would seek them out for a quick tryst before he really got his day going and settled into business. Now, though, that was unheard of. Haarlep hadn’t been approached by Raphael alone since the waif showed up. Instead, the afternoon sat empty. 

Sometimes they’d try to stretch out their activities or eat again. If they were feeling particularly annoyed they’d find some poor soul to torment in the halls. Most of the time, though, they just lay in bed and waited for something interesting to happen. 

Not so long ago, at least in their lifespan, Haarlep would’ve expected to be called in to help Raphael with some deal or another. They were his right hand, after all. Who else could handle his most important dealings? That also stopped a while ago, though, right about the time that all he talked about turned into ‘Tav wants this’ and ‘Do you think Tav might like that’ and ‘I need to get these for Tav’. 

Thankfully that stopped when she’d been put away. 

The silence was temporary, much to Haarlep’s frustration. It quickly turned into more chores for the incubus and more meltdowns for the oh-so-infallible lord of the house. 

That’s how Haarlep found themself on porridge duty twice a day to make sure their honored guest didn’t end up starving in the dungeon. 

Her cell was cushy, as far as cells went. It was only a few stories down the great winding staircase to the debtor’s pit below and afforded her privacy and comfort most souls wouldn’t dare dream of in Raphael’s house. She didn’t appreciate it. As always, she was curled up on her cot when they unlocked the door and walked in with her newest meal. 

They groaned as they kicked at the still-full bowl on the floor. The wine was untouched again too. “You’re going to dehydrate and die down here,” Haarlep groaned, switching the old oats for fresh ones and replacing the wine with water. 

Tav didn’t reply, turning away to face the wall. 

No matter how much they wanted to gag when they thought about it, they did worry about the girl. Even in the weeks following her deal with Raphael, she’d never been quite low. They supposed that was what happened, though, when someone’s whole reality collapsed. Bringing her down to Avernus was a bad idea from the start. This was just the natural consequence. Still, they wished something could’ve been done to avoid it. 

“It shouldn’t be long now before Raph can finally let you out of this damn place,” Haarlep groaned, leaning against the wall. They had never stayed with her down here before. If it meant she might eat, though, a few minutes of discomfort might be worth it… for Raphael’s sake, of course, not hers or their own. He’d be less than pleased if his favorite pet withered away under their watchful eye. “We just need to finish fortifying the house, just in case of unwanted guests,” 

Their words were again met with complete silence and stillness. Great. 

“Look,” they wiped a hand down their face, “I’m sorry about what happened at the party, ok? This wasn’t your fault, and this isn’t a punishment. He’s just-”

“Are we friends, Haarlep?” Tav asked the wall. Her voice was a dry croak. 

Haarlep shook their head. They wanted to say no. They weren’t friends, after all; They were competitors. Nothing about his entire existence gave the incubus the ability to have and keep a friend. They were built for physical pleasure and companionship, nothing more. They weren’t even made to be able to love the ones they fucked. 

And yet… those things turned out not to be true, didn’t they? And Haarlep couldn’t explain why, so they ignored the strange sense of protection and companionship they felt every time Tav cried herself to sleep over the man she loved— Hells, either of the men she loved. 

They were kindred spirits in a way, Tav and them. 

So Haarlep leaned his head against the wall, relishing in the sharp crack that sounded as his skull hit stone. “Maybe not friends, I’m not nice enough to be your friend. I think you’ve gotten me as close as you possibly could to being your friend, though, no matter how much I wished I hated you.”

Tav let out a crackling laugh and rolled over to face them, lips bitten and bloody. Gods she looked awful. Her eyes were empty, sitting in deep sockets as she withered in her skin. She wasn’t quite starving yet but it wouldn’t be incredibly long before she was if she kept up the hunger strike. It was less of a physical change, though, and more of an intangible one. Her sparkle was all but dead. 

Damn. Raphael had really done it. 

A deep down part of the incubus burned with shame and rage at the realization. 

Things had gone too far a long time ago. There wasn’t much to do now besides watch the aftermath. 

“I’m glad we're friends, Haarlep. I owe you a lot,” 

They shook their head. “You can start repaying your debt by eating this,” 

She eyed the bowl at their feet with suspicion but accepted it the moment they brought it over to the bed and placed it in her hands, gulping the beige slop as greedily as the incubus might’ve devoured a suckling pig. They sat behind her and put a hand on her back before thinking about what they were doing. “Eh eh! No choking. I’m not going to take it from you, I promise. Just slow down, would you?” 

Tav was too busy eating to reply, and Haarlep handed them the metal cup of water without being asked (not glass, they’d thought she still might be too unstable to be left alone with anything fragile and sharp). She finished the whole bowl as they rubbed her back gently. 

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” she finally spoke, looking anywhere but their face. 

“Starving will do that to you,” Haarlep chuckled. “Better?”

She shook her head no. “Why… do you know why he hasn’t come down here?” 

“Because he’s a bastard,” they shrugged, “what’s new?” 

Tav let out a groan, leaning into Haarlep’s shoulder. It stirred a strange warmth he couldn’t name in his chest. “Does he hate me? For the whole party thing?” 

“Gods, no. He wouldn’t be feeding you if he hated you,”

“Good,” she nodded before pausing, “Do you hate me for ruining your lives?” 

Haarlep almost jumped out of their skin but tried to play it off as best they could. “I thought I just said we were friends?” Why did that rattle them so much? It was an absurd claim. Completely unfounded. “Besides, why would I feed you if I hated you?” 

“Because you love Raphael too much to disappoint him like that,” 

Their blood ran ice cold. Rage flooded them first and foremost as they jumped up from the cot, flexing their wings a bit, but something else flushed their cheeks. “I’m an incubus, I don’t- Raphael is my master. I serve him. I devote myself to him, I don’t… no. You’re mistaken,” 

Tav shrugged. “Whatever you say,” 

Haarlep was more shaken than they wanted to admit, even to themselves, but the twitching in their tail was undeniable. They were quick to gather the empty bowl as well as old oats and wine from the floor as they quickly headed to the door, leaving the rest of the water behind with her. “I’ll be back later with your dinner,”

“Wait,” 

They paused at the door, turning to face Tav where she sat. No emotion crossed her face. Her mask was almost as good as Raphael’s but there was no intent in it. She probably felt just as blank on the inside as she appeared. It disturbed them. 

“Will you tell him I’m sorry?” She asked. “Tell him… tell him if anybody shows up I’ll tell them I want to be here, with him. I made my choice. The elf- sorry, Astarion might not take that for an answer, but the rest of them will, and that could make a difference. Nobody deserves to get hurt over this besides that man,”  

Haarlep gulped down a mouthful of spit as more welled in their mouth, nodding quickly. “I’ll do what I can,”

The moment the door was locked behind them they lost the contents of their stomach onto the floor of the hall. 

They cleaned up after themself quickly and tried not to think too much about anything at all on their way back up into the house, especially not that baseless accusation Tav had made. Them? Love Raphael? It was laughable. And yet when they walked into the devil’s office to find him frantically writing again, they couldn’t deny that they’d taken a few extra moments outside the door to make themself presentable. 

Before he could even look up from his work, Raphael was asking about her. 

“Did she eat?” He barked, quill scratching frantically on parchment. Haarlep just threw the empty metal bowl at the floor. It clattered noisily against Raphael’s own discarded dishes. “Good,” 

Haarlep hated the sigh of relief that escaped his lungs. 

“You look like shit,” they deflected. The whole room reeked of sweat and stress, and not in a sexy way. Usually, they wouldn’t mind looking at Raphael’s messy body. Something was so alluring about seeing someone who was always so put together at their most base and scattered physical form. It was only fun when it was for them, though, a proof of their ability to rattle him. They ran a hand through his limp, greasy hair and Raphael flinched away. 

The devil huffed. “I don’t have time for this, Haarlep” 

“Still drafting potential deals?” 

“What else would I be doing?” He snapped. “When those damned adventurers show up I need to have a script and plan for every outcome. I refuse to lose her to some loophole I didn’t see. Wyll is giving me the most difficulty. He’s made a deal before, so he’ll know exactly what to be cautious of when setting his terms. Whatever I give him has to be nothing less than ironclad or things will end up very poorly for all of us, you included,” As he rambled, Raphael began absently chewing on the end of his quill, pressing the tip of the feather between his thin lips. 

Haarlep watched with an almost scientific fascination, focusing on the way his brow furrowed as the ink stopped flowing. No one else saw the devil like this. It was for them and them alone to appreciate. Well, at least it was… 

They flexed their wings. “It seems like a good time for you to take a break, besides,” Haarlep leaned against the desk, their leather pants squeezing their legs as they bent over, “I’m hungry. You’ve let me starve for weeks,” 

Raphael’s eyes flitted up to theirs but went right back to his paper without even pausing for a moment on Haarlep’s bare chest. “I told you I’m busy. Go fuck one of the more deserving debtors and leave me be,” 

They stumbled back from the desk. Even in the aftermath, Raphael paid them no attention, fully engrossed in his project, but of course he was! Without it how would he save his precious Tav? Anger bubbled in Haarlep’s throat but they swallowed it down. How dare she get everything they’d ever wanted after everything she’d done to them both? 

How dare Raphael be capable of setting aside time for her, but not them? After all they’d done?

Haarlep took another step towards the door, eyes on the floor. “She asked about you,”

The scratching of the quill immediately stopped. “She did?” Raphael asked. 

“She was wondering why you hadn’t come down to visit her yourself, and if you hated her. It was incredibly sad,” They let their voice trail off and kept gazing out into the hallway, setting their hands on their hips. “Congratulations, I suppose. You’ve finally broken her in!” When they finally turned around, Raphael wouldn’t meet their gaze.

He floundered for a bit, pushing back his greasy hair again and rubbing his stubbly cheeks with flat palms. “What a victory…” Haarlep’s stomach curled in on itself at the way Raphael’s voice trailed off. They’d never seen him look quite so weak before, except when he’d been moments from death. “Haarlep, am I doing the right thing? Do you think she can be happy here?” 

They choked. “Why does that matter?” 

“It doesn’t,” Raphael waved a hand, gaze drifting over to the few bolts of leftover fabric that sat stacked in the corner. He paused on them for a bit. It almost looked like he was… daydreaming. “I suppose I was just curious. She said some peculiar things after I let her see that the deal was all her idea, or at least mostly her’s. It was like she went mad. I don’t know. It’s absurd, you’ll appreciate it Haarlep. She said she loved me!”

Oh. 

He loved her. 

It was plain on his face and in every insane, obsessive plot he’d manufactured to lure her into his arms. All it took to kick in those romantic instincts was the right person, it seemed. 

“Not that that matters,” Raphael trailed on, ignoring the way Haarlep stood frozen against the shelf. “She’ll make a fine prize once I built her back up, now that the hard part is over. I do love how malleable mortals are, though I hope she’ll keep a bit of that fight she has. She’d be boring without it,” 

Was that why they’d never been good enough? Because they gave in to orders too easily? Because they had been broken long before Raphael had ever set hands on them? It set their teeth on edge. She was just being handed everything he’d ever worked for on a silver platter. The worst part? Haarlep was too damn broken in to even resist it. If it made Raphael truly happy, if it made him smile and lose a bit of that damn dramatic seriousness he wore like a coat of arms at all times, could they really resent her for it? No. They could only resent it wasn’t for them. 

“Did she mention anything else?” Raphael asked, setting his chin on his palm.

Haarlep bit their tongue, looking down at the veritable pile of battle plans at his elbow. A bead of blood came up where their fang dug into the soft flesh.

“No, she didn’t mention anything else,” 

“To be expected,” Raphael sighed, disappointed. He looked down at the papers and pushed up from the desk with a groan. It had probably been days since he’d last gotten up. “I suppose I could pause planning for the moment, a bath does sound nice.” He raised an eyebrow at Haarlep. “Still hungry?” 

The incubus feigned a smile as they left the room. 

“For you? Always,” 

-----------

(A/N: Thank you for sticking with me <3 This chapter took a very long time to write, half because work was insane and half because I had to rewrite it probably 6 times before I ended up with something I halfway liked. I can't wait to rewrite all of this once the story is over so I can practice editing something novel-length, because that's what it's looking like it'll end up being. This is now, I believe, my longest project ever to date and it's been such an incredibly gratifying challenge to take on. I can't wait to finally get into the original story I wanted to tell with you guys.)

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[riftdancing]

So... It's my Birthday.

I would usually post about this on my personal blog, but I'm going to touch basis here instead since it does have some relation to my XIV blog at the end. First of all, if you've sent me a well wish for my birthday, you're amazing. Thank you. Each one of them so far has been incredibly heartwarming and while I ask nothing of anyone today... heartwarming is extra welcome because I am going through it right now.

Yesterday we took my 4 month old kitten, Ozzie, to the vet for his last set of vaccinations until next year. It went great! Little man is an absolute king. I've never seen such a brave and curious little cat. The car ride was zero stress for him. Not a single peep, just curiously watching the country side go by mid tongue bath. I've never seen a cat so blaise about a car ride. He was the same way at the vet office. Once out of his carrier and in the exam room he'd bound up to meet the staff and greet them with tail high and perked ears. In hindsight, after the experience, my partner and I have realized he'd probably make a great adventure cat, so we will likely be looking into harness and leash training very soon.

What I wasn't expecting, was returning home to find my cat (and emotional support animal) not acting like herself and showing me all the signs she'd fallen ill with something. She is my baby. My comfort, my emotional rock. The amount of emotional understanding and empathy she's shown me in the first four years of her life still astounds me more and more everyday. ...But Sootie and I are extremely co-dependent on eachother. Seeing her ill, even though we'd just returned home from the vet with Oz, we gently got her into her carrier and rushed her to the vet as well. You can imagine how shocked they were to see us again (lol).

Vet was glad I brought her in preemptively. Seems I had it exactly right. She is sick. She was running a fever of 105 when we got there. We did bloodwork (which came back squeaky clean!!) and they tried to get a urine sample, but to no avail. So they gave her a shot for her current nausea, and she's been put on liquid antibiotics. ...Antibiotics which require food and she's still not eating.

But... I don't care if its my birthday or not. I've put everything a side because she is my world. So her and I are quarentined to the bedroom together. Luckily that's her safe/comfort space, and I'm just in here to keep her company and provide additional comfort as she craves it. Currently as I write this from my mini mechanical bluetooth keyboard on my tablet... she's snuggled up in one of her favorite blankets next to me, tucked in for additional warmth.

But until she's doing a little better... I will be resigned to this set up...

So I will likely spend my Birthday cleaning out my tumblr inbox while I take care of my lil sick baby.

But after all the times she's looked after me in my worst states (like when I was sick with covid and despite trying to distance myself from her she would NOT leave me for the entire week. Like velcro. My lil nurse.) both mental and physical health... its the least I can do to make sure she's comfortable and has someone here for her the same way she's always been there for me.

When I say I would do anything for this cat. I mean it. She is the world to me.