#BODIES DON'T JUST VANISH OVERNIGHT
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doks-aux · 1 year ago
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*raises hand* Okay, but if the FNAF1 animatronics were rebuilt from the Withereds and the Withereds were the ones that the missing kids were stuffed into... how did they not find the remains when they were scrapping/rebuilding them? Did they just work AROUND the obvious smell and swell of rot in the middle of those guys? Just averting their eyes to not see the child-sized skeletons wearing little party outfits inside them?
I guess I wouldn't be surprised, but damn.
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luvinescent · 1 year ago
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Entangled Fates
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Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader
Summary: The Targaryen name has brought nothing but misery to Y/N— her half-blood placing a curse upon her. She's observed the toll her presence takes on the people she loves; no longer wanting to form a close tie with anyone. Nevertheless, her heart steered its own course. And it steered towards a certain man.
Warnings: angst. allusion to r*pe and death, nothing descriptive. a steamy make-out scene but nothing crazy. not really book or show accurate but f it we ball. also fluff. also reader has dark hair so just pretend u do if u don't xoxo.
Word count: 10.1K (beginning just has lots of background lore pls bear w/ me)
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In life, there are those destined for lavish living and those made to struggle to see their next day. From a young age, Dorea knew she fell into the second category. She grew up orphaned; never knowing the love of a mother or a father. Despite the fact, Dorea was strong willed; she found her own kind of love. Love for herself, love for her friends, and love for her life. She knows that she did not have the best life; her dresses had holes in them, she had to work from dawn to dusk, and she often would need to go days without eating. That ultimately changed the day a close friend of hers had come to her with a new line of work.
“One of the castles maids was executed, so her position is open to take”.
Looking back, she should’ve said no from the way a chill went up her spine. She had heard the rumors of the king having gone mad; but at the time, that was not her problem. Being a castle maid sounded a lot better than being a candle maker. All she had to do was clean the chambers and mind her business and pay would be given to her. The task sounded easy— it should’ve been easy. Dorea had ways of not drawing attention to herself. That is how she has made it this far in her life; from hiding. The peace of obscurity brought her comfort; being anonymous was a safe refuge that protected her from prying eyes and the entanglements of wicked connections. The girl was pure and innocent.
Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans.
She truly had done all she could to stay out of the eyes of the royal family. She should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more aware of the eyes that followed her unknowingly when she walked the halls. Her foolishness had caught up to her one day when a guard had dragged her to the throne room; thrown to the ground to kneel in front of the king, Aerys II Targaryen. Dorea was ready to open her mouth and beg for forgiveness on whatever crimes she had committed but was silenced in fear. “You will meet me in my chambers tonight”, he said. Dorea could do nothing but nod as she could not go against the kings’ words. The only thing she could do was look to the Hand of the King for some form of help, but they stood muted. Moments later, she was whisked away by some female servants— some of them her own friends— and was prepared for the event. She was washed and dressed properly; never have been so physically clean yet so dirty internally.
Later that night, her virtue and gaiety of life was destroyed when the king came and took her. She had prayed to the Gods that it was only a one-time thing. But the Gods seemed to find her plea a joke. The king would request her presence many more times and many more nights afterwards. Her position as a maid in the castle vanished overnight. Now, she stood as something different; still, she did not know exactly what. All Dorea knew was she felt shame as those working in the castle started to treat her different, with more respect and caution. She dreamt every night for this nightmare to end, but it only continued.
“The girl is pregnant, your grace”. The maestar told the king. Both fear and relief spread through her body. Fear in the sense that the king would have her eliminated to hide such sin, and relief that he might just send her away forever. It had to be one or the other; from what she has seen, the queen is currently pregnant as well and due in a few moons. Furthermore, he already had two children born, why would he need her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the third alternative she had feared the most, “You will continue to stay here. You will have the child”. Later that night, Dorea prayed once more for all this suffering to end. Finally, her prayer had been answered in the worst way possible.
She had heard the talks of the rebellion, but she never thought it would come to where she resigned. The king’s heir was now dead, along with his wife and children. The queen was now dead; dying from childbirth. The middle child and newest member of the royal family had been sent to exile. And the Mad King was now dead as well; stabbed by a member of his own Kingsguard.
Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.
For her own safety, and her chance once again at freedom, she did what she knew she had to do. She ran away.
Dorea took refuge in a small village that resided in the Reach. Selling all the gifts and jewelry the king had bestowed upon her; she and her unborn child were set for life. A few moons later, Dorea gave birth during a warm summer night. As she held the newborn in her arms, she thought the Gods had finally decided to take pity on her and grant her some kindness. For starters, she had given birth to a girl. Dorea was thankful in the sense that the child would not be seen as a threat to the line of succession of the Iron throne. Additionally, the babe had no features of a Targaryen. Caressing the small amount of hair on her daughter’s hair, she was given hair as dark as night instead of the silvery-gold feature of her biological father. Dorea let out a sigh of relief once the girl opened her eyes— no violet eyes either. Pulling the babe closer to her chest, she gave a quick prayer and smiled down at the sleeping babe.
Dorea named her Y/N.
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As time passed, Y/N quickly grew before her mothers’ eyes. Both her and her mother were beloved by the village folks— Dorea giving money to those who were in need, and her daughter who was tenderhearted and befriended all. No one in the village had known about Doreas’ past or Y/N true linage. And Dorea wanted to keep it that way. She, however, knew that one day it would all come back to bite her. Despite having run away, she knew that there were some people who knew of their existence. It did not help her case more when Y/N had begun to show a great fascination with fire; something the mothers of the village made jokes about, but Dorea knew the truth.
“You have dragon blood within you”, Dorea had whispered to her daughter one quiet night. “You are part Targaryen, but you must keep this a secret. I am only telling you this for your own safety. There are people in this world who will want to hurt you, to take you away from me. Do you understand darling?”. At just the age of eight, Y/N was smarter and brighter than her peers. Hearing such solemness in her mothers’ voice, she nodded, “Yes mother”.
Such a topic was dropped and never brought up again— that was until Y/N turned ten. Since Dorea had the funds, she had hired a tutor for the young girl. Y/N’s instructor was a retired tutor who had taught many kids from noble homes before moving to their village. The old man was just supposed to teach her simple things like language, arts, music, and maths.  Without her mothers’ knowledge, Y/N brought up the topic of history to her teacher, particularly the history of the Targaryen household. And that’s where everything started.
It was one calm afternoon in their shared bedroom when Y/N had asked the question. “Mother, am I cursed?”. Dorea, puzzled, stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and turned towards her, “What kind of question is that?”. Y/N looked sheepishly to the side and confessed everything, “I have been learning history with my tutor. Targaryen history”. Before Dorea could respond, the young girl continued, “You say I am half Targaryen, and based upon their history, I must be cursed”. Dorea questioned what she meant and then let out a loud laugh at her daughters’ answer: “I have black hair mother”.
Dorea caressed her daughters face, smiling and shaking her head, “Darling, your hair color does not mean anyth- “.
“But its true mother!” Y/N exclaimed, “It is shown all over their history. Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest sons were born with dark hair, and they all died before they could reach adulthood. Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the “Queen Who Never Was” and saw the death of her two children in her lifetime. Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter was killed in the sack of Kings Landing. Valarr Targaryen was- “.
“What does any of that have to do with you?!”, Dorea shouted out, startling Y/N. The young girl felt tears come to her eyes as she hid herself in her mothers’ embrace, muffling her words, “They were not pure Targaryen. I am not a pure Targaryen, mother. I do not wish to fall to such misfortunes”. Dorea felt her heart break at the sound and thoughts of her daughters’ troubles. Shaking her head, Dorea raised Y/Ns’ head and looked straight into her eyes, “You are not cursed. Their misfortunes are not yours. Do you hear me girl? This is your life, and you control it”. Y/N could do nothing but continue to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother whispered, her voice a tender melody that carried reassurance. Dorea cradled the young girl, whose sobs softened but still lingered, the remnants of a storm that had raged within her fragile heart. “I will protect you no matter what”, she declared.
Y/N would forever remember that loving moment, amongst the many others she shared with her mother. While Dorea had said she would do anything to protect her, Y/N should’ve said the same thing back. Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans for the daughter. Not even a month later, Y/Ns’ mother died, succumbing to a mysterious illness that took her in a matter of days. It felt as though the moment she acknowledged the said “curse”, her world only came to be filled with hurt.
Being only ten years old and now orphaned, the people in the village were kind enough to take the girl in. Specifically, it was a family of three that consisted of a father and mother and a son her age who took her into their home. The boy, named Tomas, had always been a close friend of Y/N. The two would spend many days together, playing and running around in the meadows. He would pick flowers for her and in return she would do the same. There was even one early morning when the two stood by their village’s lake and shared a kiss with each other. Despite still being a child, Y/N felt as though she was feeling the love that was described in the fairytale stories her mother used to read to her.
Sadly, that love was taken from her as well. At the young age of one and three, Tomas had somehow fallen and drowned in that same lake. Y/N had never heard such a devasting scream as Edith, Tomas’s mother, held her dead son in her arms. The village was both in mourning and in query; Tomas had been taught to swim at the age of four, how could this have happened? No explanations were thought of, but Y/N had her own belief.
I’m cursed, she would toss in turn in her bed at night, I am cursed.
Two more years would pass by, and no other unfortunate incidents would have occurred. But there is always calm before the storm. One day, something within Y/N had made her go explore the small forest that was near her village. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she had done it many times before. Yet, she stayed exploring for hours before that same voice within her told her to return. Upon seeing her village within the distance, Y/N should’ve never listened to that voice. She wishes she could’ve stayed back and continue being ignorant of everything. Her village— the homes, the crops, the trees, everything, was up in flames. Running down the dirt paths, Y/N did not have time (nor did she want to) to acknowledge all slaughtered men, women, and children that laid on the grounds. A small amount of hope had sparked within her when she saw that her home was not ablaze. That hope died upon entering the residence— Y/N crying out in distress at the sight of Edith, the women she had come to see as her second mother, dead on the ground. Her sadness was turned to fear when she spotted a large man in the corner, angry and hungry for blood. Before the crazed man could run at her, he was tackled to the ground by Lance— Edith’s husband and her adopted father. He was clearly injured; covered in blood from head to toe but still had the strength in him to scream at Y/N, desperation laced in his voice, “Run girl! Run and do not look back!”. Y/N, not wanting to witness his clear end, quickly listened to his order and ran out the door, trying her best to stay out of sight of all the other savage men as she made her way out the village.
She must’ve ran for hours before she knew she was no longer in danger. A day or two of traveling passed by before she took residence in a small city. That same night, under a dirty bridge, she finally acknowledged all hell that had occurred to her within the past forty-eight hours. The dams broke as she cried and screamed out in sorrow and pain. She cried, and cried, and cried until she had no more tears to let out; now consumed by numbness. Her mother, her first love, her caretakers, her childhood friends, her home; had all been taken from her. What had she done to deserve this? With her heart broken into millions of pieces, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t live like this. Never would she fall in love and never would she form a deep connection with anyone again. She wasn’t going to let herself be tied to the Targaryen name, to its blood, nor its curse. She wasn’t going to let this curse win and see her suffer again.
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And so, she did; well, she tried her best at least. With the little money she had on her, Y/N jumped from village to village, city to city, and made sure not to socialize with anyone. There were some instances of people trying to get to know her, boys trying to court her, but she wouldn’t stay very long and would be gone the next day. It was a lonely life, a life she despised but knew she had to endure. That changed a bit when she came face to face with a woman with a fair complexion and silver hair.
Daenerys Targaryen. The “Mother of Dragons”. Her older half-sister.
Daenerys had always known about her half-sister’s existence; her older brother one day rambling that the throne belongs to a true Targaryen and not the current usurper, nor the “Targaryen-bastard filth” their father left behind. At first, Y/N was wary of the girl but soon found herself becoming fond of her presence. Daenerys felt the same way; with no family left on either girl’s end, they quickly found solace in each other— treating one another as the sisters they are. It was strange at first for Y/N; getting used to now having family once again and the companionship of dragons that came with it. Initially, she was terrified at the sight of the foreign creatures but quickly came to love them and their beautiful nature. She became quite close with the one called Rhaegal, favoring the dragon over the overs. Rhaegal doted and protected the girl the same; but still recognized Daenerys as its’ rightful mother. Y/N could say she just held the title of “favorite aunt” now amongst the creatures.
The thought of the curse still weighed heavy in the back of her mind, but Y/N hypothesized that whatever superstition was out to get her would not harm her sister; a true (and last) Targaryen. Y/N immediately recognized Daenerys as her queen and vowed to help her reclaim her throne. For some time, Y/N felt happiness once again entering her life as she spent more time with her sister and her allies. That bliss, however, turned out to be false hope.
“When the time comes and I reclaim my throne, I will legitimize you as a Targaryen”, Daenerys spoke to her one night. Y/N wanted to decline right away; she was content with not having a household name and did not want to be associated with the Targaryen name. Before Y/N could speak, Daenerys looked shamefully down while holding her sister’s hand, “There is a reason why I came looking for...”. Y/N felt a chill run up her spine and quickly encouraged the Mother of Dragons to continue. “I am unable to have my own children. When the time is right, I will need you to find a man, any man of your choosing..”, Daenerys sternly said as she looked into Y/N eyes, “I will need an heir to inherit the throne and continue my family name. Do you understand sister?”. Daenerys felt guilt creep up inside her as she finally confessed her true intentions from the start of meeting Y/N. She was asking too much of Y/N but, she, however, was on a mission to reclaim her birthright no matter what. Y/N stared agape at her, no words coming from her mouth. She wanted to decline even more— but, looking into Daenerys eyes, she saw the graveness within them and the true tone behind her words. She was not asking this of her as her sister. She was commanding this of her as her queen. And Y/N would do anything for her rightful queen.
“Yes, sister. I understand”. Y/N now found herself tied to the Targaryen name. Something she vowed never to be but couldn’t escape.
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As time passed by, Y/N kept her promise and stood by Daenerys side as she continued her conquest; now finding herself at Dragonstone, her sister’s ancestral home. The preparations and campaign for Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne was in full effect but was interrupted momentarily.
“The King in the North?”, Daenerys questioned one of her advisors who came bearing news. “Yes my Queen. He sent a raven— detailing that he wishes to speak with you”. Y/N, standing off to the side, expressed her thoughts and question, “I had heard that the King in the North was dead”.
“As did I”, Daenerys said sharply. The man before them nodded his head, “Yes. There was an incident that had occurred that made everyone believe he was dead. But he is very much alive”. Daenerys raised her eyebrows up, skeptical about this so called “King in the North”— “And he trusts me with the information of his false death?”
“Well, according to his letter, yes.”
Y/N and Daenerys turned, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking with them. Not much emotion was shown behind Y/N eyes, but she was able to express with them, “What harm is there in seeing what he wants”. Sighing, Daenerys nodded her head and agreed with her sister.
“Send a message back. Invite him here and let him know I agree to speak with him”.
A few days later, Y/N stood on the shores, waiting to welcome her guests on the request of Daenerys. Once she saw the boats pull up on the beach, she made her way but stopped in amazement. Out from one of the boats came a large, thick furred animal— a dire wolf. She had only ever heard about the mythical creatures and now she was in close distance with one. Dragons and now dire wolves; she held a small smile on her face at the uniqueness that was the world. Clearing their throats, the two guards behind her had snapped her out of her daydream, reminding her of the task. Standing tall, Y/N put on her best welcoming smile and stood in front of the party, “Welcome to Dragonstone. I have been sent by our rightful Queen to give our greetings”.
Y/N voice had started loud and clear, but slightly quieted down towards the end as she made eye contact with a man. A very handsome man to be exact, she thought to herself. He stood tall and strong, a lean build with dark curls and blue eyes as blue as the water behind them. He smiled at her and before he could open his mouth, the older man next to him spoke up. “I present Robb Stark. Heir to the Stark household and King of the North”. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the discovery of the handsome stranger being the King in the North. Turning to him, she held a sort of mischief but harsh attitude in her voice, “Is the King in the North unable to speak for himself?”
The men in front of her were clearly taken back. Except for Robb Stark who let out a small laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am very capable of speaking. I am Robb Stark”. He held out his hand and was charmed when she firmly grasped it and shook it; opting out of giving her his hand to kiss.  
“I am not a lady. Please, call me Y/N”. Robb was preparing himself to compliment her name but was cut off by the same man next to him. “She’s the Targaryen bastard, your grace”. Though it was meant to be a whisper for only Robb to hear, Y/N was in close enough proximity to have heard it as well. Robb swiftly turned to his advisor next to him, giving him a crude look before turning back to the girl, “Forgive the rudeness of- “
“No, it is quite alright” she waved her hand, “It is all true anyway. I am THAT Targaryen bastard”. Robb nodded, gulping as he tried to ease the tension, “I have heard a lot about you...and your sister too, of course”. Y/N wanted to let out a chuckle at the sight before her; a gorgeous man trying his best not to insult her. “And I have heard very little about you,” Y/N voiced, “Other than the fact that you were supposedly dead, which I can see you are very much alive”, looking him up and down with her eyes. Robb smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “It is a long story”. Y/N let out a “hmm” sound, looking off towards the side to the dire wolf. “Is he yours?”
“Yes. His name is Grey Wind. I’ve had him since he was a pup”. Y/N nodded once more, noticing just how well behaved the wolf was, “He’s very beautiful”. Robb thanked her for the compliment, grinning widely, “I can see you are fond of animals. Do you have any of your own?”
Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head, “No. I have children.”
Robb was clearly taken back by her words, a stuttering mess as he questioned her statement. “O-oh? You have children?”. Y/N could sense some disappointment in his voice towards the end as it cracked. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. But I do consider them children. Just not mine. I am just an aunt”. All the guests in front of her were puzzled by her words but ducked down in fear at the sound of a roar from above. Looking up, she smiled at the sight of Rhaegal and Drogon patrolling the skies.
“Seven hells!” she heard one of Robbs’ men yell out. Turning back, she playfully spoke “My children. Beautiful, aren’t they?”. None of Robbs’ men were able to agree or speak; still in shock. Robb, still looking up to the sky, laughed earnestly, “Well, they sure are an eccentric sight to see”. Y/N smiled more at his honesty, clapping her hands together, turning and speaking to the entire party, “Well. I believe that is a sufficient way to welcome you all here. Now, I must welcome you into the castle. Please come, the Queen is curious to known what it is you wish to speak about”.
Upon greeting the Queen, Robb Starks’ words and terms were clear to her. He wishes to ally with her in her conquest to take the throne and create a fairer and just realm. “We both have a clear enemy,” he spoke, “I want the Lannisters dead for what they have done to my family, and you want them off the throne entirely”. Every so often, Robb would cast his eyes off to the side to look at Y/N; something she tried her best to hide her reddening face from. “My men, though small numbers, will be yours to use. We ask that in return, once you take your rule, you allow the North to maintain a degree of self-rule. We will recognize you as the rightful Queen, but we wish to keep the North the way it is”. Daenerys nodded her head, asking her advisors for their views on the matter, and taking Y/N by surprise when she asked her as well. “As I perceive it, the North is biggest land piece in Westeros. It would be better to keep them as allies instead of fighting them off. They recognize you as Queen, and the Stark household keeps the North in check for you, sister”. Daenerys responded with another nod, showing to be clear in thought at all the opinions given to her. The Queen stood up, still not fully convinced, but could not deny all the positives of the compromise, “Very well. I will continue to think about the matter. I will let you know that my thoughts are leaning more toward yes than it is no. For now, your men must be tired. Allow my people to escort them to rest”.
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Later that night, Y/N made her way down the dark halls to the one place in the castle that brought her peace. She almost let out a small scream at the tall shadow that appeared around the corner, “My lady?”. Placing her hand to her chest to control her tachycardic heart, she saw that the dark shadow was Robb Stark. “Your grace. You almost scared me to death”, Y/N laughed, “And please, I am not a lady of noble birth. Call me by my first name”. Robb returned her laugh with his own, apologizing for scaring her. “Forgive me, my lad- Y/N. I was just curious as to why you are out so late”. She nodded her head in the direction she was originally heading in, “I can not sleep so I was heading to the library to bore myself with some reading” she joked, “Is it not late for you to be awake as well?”. Robb gave a similar answer; unable to sleep and practically full of energy. Y/N looked down at the ground for a mere second before glancing into his eyes, “Would you like to join me?”. He agreed to her invite, thankful for the darkness of the night hiding his blushed face.
Dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the shelves towered, laid with books that held centuries of knowledge and wisdom. Robb made himself comfortable at one of the chairs available while Y/N opted for the window nook. “Do you come in here often?” Robb asked. Y/n offered a silent yes, trailing her fingers against the rim of the book she had chosen, “I have not been here that long, but yes. I come here every night; I tend to have trouble sleeping”.
“Why is that?” Robb questioned.
“Nightmares”, Y/N replied. Her dreams were always filled with visions of her dead loved ones.
After a pause, Robb gave a “hmm”; silently admiring the girl for not being afraid to show vulnerability. “That’s something we both have in common” he gave a warm smile. Another quiet pause passed by until Y/N looked up at him, “You say that you being alive is a long story— can I listen to it?”. Robb gave a slight nod, standing up to sit next to her in a close but comfortable proximity.
“I was to marry the daughter of someone who I thought was my ally. I agreed initially but something within me told me not to carry out my word”. He slowly reached over for the book that was in her hands, both hands brushing slightly as he took it out of her grasp, now distracting himself with it. “The wedding still went on; I supplied another man in my place. But, there was bloodshed, and I was betrayed. I barely made it out alive, along with a few other men of mine”. Inhaling sharply, he continued with his outpour, “And I’m thankful I did. I have sources that tell me that even if I went along with the wedding, I was to be killed no matter what. The Lannisters long ago forming allies with the people I thought I could trust”. Coming close to a finish, he looked into Y/N eyes, softly smiling, “I guess it was fate that saved me somehow”.
Breaking eye contact, Y/N scoffed at his words. “Fate” she said with repugnance. Her reply caught him off guard, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You do not believe in fate?”.
Y/N took in a long sigh, shaking her head, “No I believe in it”, she gently whispered the last part, “We just never have seen eye to eye. My fate only brings me bad luck”. Robb took in her words, trying to calculate what he should say next. “I believe fate can bring both good and bad luck”, he began with, “One can say it was my fathers’ fate to have been killed, or my sisters’ fates to be held captive”, Robb swallowed thickly before continuing, “But, it is my fate to avenge and save them. It is fate that has brought me this far; that has brought me here and to you”, he slowly spoke while staring deep into Y/N eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping her face wasn’t red and was successful in controlling her facial expression. Clearing her throat, she spoke firmly, “You must be confused; I believe you are trying to woo the wrong sister, Stark. Is it not my sister who you need as your ally?”.
Robb let out a low laugh, grinning widely, “That may be true, but”, he slowly scanned the room in a playful manner, “I believe that I don’t see your sister in here at all. So, no, I am not confused. I am speaking to the right sister”. A third pause passed by as the two continued staring, wating for one of them to speak or do something. Y/N was the first— standing abruptly, she moved her hair behind her ear and let out an awkward ahem. “I believe I must retire for the night. It was nice speaking to you Stark”. Before she could make her way out the door, he called out to her.
“It’s Robb”. Turning, she questioned what he meant. Smiling, he spoke, “You can call me Robb. You say you come here every night?”. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you allow me to see you here again tomorrow? Or even spend some time with you come morning?”.
Y/N wanted to say no. She needed to stop whatever friendship (or relationship) was forming between the two before she got too close. Before her curse got to him. He had already suffered enough. Despite the fact, deep down, her own selfish desires won over. She hadn’t felt like this in forever— she wanted this feeling to last forever.
“Yes. Of course, Robb”.
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Come morning, they spent the entire day together, including the night. The next day was the same. Daenerys had granted Robb and his men a longer stay as there was much to discuss. It was late in the morning that he and Y/N were walking along the shores, discussing the most random of topics. Both were making a great effort to make the other one laugh: sprouting different jokes and funny stories. They both loved hearing the sound of laughter coming out of each another’s mouths. A gentle breeze roamed the air, blowing through Y/Ns’ dark hair. Robb stood silently still, stuck in a daze and awestruck by her appearance. Swiftly, he removed his fur cloak and placed it upon her exposed shoulders. Robb gestured to the area around them as Y/N looked at him in confusion, “I thought you might be cold”. She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head but not returning his cloak back. It provided her with a sense of ease. “No,” she confessed, “I don’t run cold that easily”. Resuming their walk, Robb gave her a look of admiration, “You would do great in the North then. Have you ever been there?”.
She answered with a clear no, stopping in her path to match Robb’s sudden cease of movement. Slowly, he placed his hands upon the cloak, further wrapping it securely around her. “I believe you would love it there. Maybe one day, you can come with me to Winterfell. I would love to give you a tour and introduce you to my mother, and hopefully my sisters too. I’m sure they would love you”. No further sounds were made; the distant sound of crashing waves serving as the only soundtrack to their wordless communion. Y/N leaned slightly into him — his closeness felt like a forbidden sanctuary, a place where she found solace and belonging but knew she shouldn’t enter. Y/N only response was a gentle nod and smile.
Many heart-fluttering moments continued to happen between the two. Stolen glances from across the table, hands brushing as they took their walks, laughter and smiles shared in the dark of night. There was an occurrence in the library when Robb had urged the girl to go to bed; taking notice of her eyebags forming from their long night of talking. “I can’t go to sleep that easily. And even if I can, I just have bad dreams I can’t wake up from”, she disclosed. They sat intimately close, sharing an intense gaze, both their features illuminated by the light of the candles in the room. Y/N could see every detail, every pore, every small scar that graced his beautiful face. She was caught by surprise, her breath hitching when he gently grabbed her hand, drawing small patterns into it.
“You can sleep here if you wish. I will watch over you and wake you at any sign of discomfort”. She wanted to decline, but there was something in his eyes that was persuading her. Y/N then found herself in his warm embrace, laying her head gently on his chest. She could hear every breath he took, every beat his heart made. Sealing her eyelids, he was the sole occupant of her dreams. She had never slept better.
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Daenerys was no fool to what was happening before her very eyes. Sharing a private dinner with her sister, she brought up the topic.
“So, you and the Northern have been spending some time together”. Y/N nodded; not being able to lie since there was clear evidence in front of Daenerys. “He is a good man,” she smiled, “Very kind to his men, to his wolf”, she smiled even further at the memory of Robb introducing her properly to Grey Wind. She could still hear his laughter and the concern that replaced it when Grey Wind had tackled her to the ground with wet kisses. “We don’t want to get that pretty face all slobbered up now, do we?” fondness had colored his expression as he helped her back up. The smile upon her face slipped away, a frown and more serious look taking over.
“He’s very kind to me…I don’t think I will be spending much time with him anymore though”, she held her fork tightly in her hand. Daenerys questioned what she meant by her words. “Personal reasons”, Y/N said in a somber tone, “He will be leaving soon, and I plan to stay by your side”. Daenerys nodded her head, a part of her knowing that Y/Ns’ excuse was not the full truth. It’s not an exaggeration— Daenerys wasn’t a fool. She was well aware of Y/N’s standoffish attitude; practically a hermit as she kept to herself, or Daenerys. She saw the reasoning behind it— having an understanding of her past hardships. Additionally, Daenerys once tried to comfort Y/N during a nightmare of hers, hearing the word “curse” coming out of her mouth every few seconds. She badly wanted to comfort her sister, let her know that she was not cursed— life was just not fair to everyone. Daenerys, however, said nothing. Y/N was the only family she had left, and she did not want to lose her so soon, especially to some man. Forcing a smile upon her face, Daenerys tried to hide the distaste she felt towards her own selfishness. “That is good. Family must stick together”.
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As the hours slipped away, Y/N and Robb were spending their last night together in the library. Robb and his men were set to leave tomorrow— all discussions and plans made with Daenerys were finalized. Robb, sitting across the room, was enamored as Y/N read to him out loud. It was a couple nights ago that they created this little routine; Y/N would read to him, and he would give his input at certain scenes. Right now, however, he was not paying attention to what was happening in the story. He was trying to memorize her gentle sweet voice, the way her lips moved with each syllable she said. Finishing a passage, Y/N put the book down to ask Robb his view.
“I can not lie to you. I was not paying attention”. Mouth agape, she pretended to be upset, throwing the small pillow she had next to her. Robb caught the cushion, letting out a hearty laugh that rumbled deep within his chest. Standing up, he walked across the room to her, placing the pillow behind her back. He knew she liked to read in comfort. Y/Ns’ smile was warm, spreading even more across her face at the words Robb spoke next, “You have a pretty voice”. Shyly looking down, she quietly thanked him. Robb’s compliments towards her only continued, “And a beautiful face”.
Biting her lip, she was readying herself to change the topic, but he only continued more. “I remember when I saw you for the first time”, he sat down beside her, sharing body warmth now, “I truly thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman before in my life”. Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes softly and replying in a joking matter “And then you saw my sister and I was the second most beautiful woman you had seen in your life”. Her heart quickened up when she looked up at him, no humor present on his face, only showing seriousness. “No”, he whispered, “you were still the most captivating and breathtaking beauty I’d seen”. Silence filled the room. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers interlacing with hers. “I leave tomorrow”, he spoke of the one thing they both had refused to acknowledge. “That you are”, Y/N said, her main focus placed upon their hands. Drawing small comforting circles into her skin, he asked her what she had planned for her future.
“My future is a mystery”, Y/N sighed heavily, “Regardless, I will continue to stand by Daenerys and be with her when she retakes the throne. She told me that she was going to bestow the Targaryen name upon me, but I’m not sure that is what I want”. Confusion etched Robbs’ features, questioning her meaning. Her face gave away a gloomy look, “I have never really been fond of my Targaryen blood. Daenerys is the only good thing that has come out of it”, she said truthfully, “I’ve gone long enough without a household name, so I don’t see the point in having one”. A smile graced her lips as she looked at him, “I won’t lie, it is a small yearn of mine. To belong somewhere and become a part of something special”.
A pregnant pause filled the room. The only sound being heard was the burning of the fireplace. Y/Ns’ laughter echoed through the room; Robbs’ next statement finding humor within her.
“You can become a Stark”.
Shaking her head, almost wanting to wipe the imaginary tears in her eyes, she continued her fits of giggles. “And how can I do that- “
Robbs’ next sentence caused all laughter within her to cease, her breath getting stuck in her chest. “By marrying me”, he said.
Another pregnant pause. Y/N stared at him in shock, becoming a stuttering mess, “R-Robb, I…”. Before she could finish, he cut her off, taking both her hands into his now, “I plead that you allow me to speak first”, he smiled but looked ready to cry, “I have never felt the way I have when I am with you. You truly have stolen my heart, and I don’t plan on asking for it back. Come with me to Winterfell— become my wife, my queen”. With affection, he raised her hand and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on it, “Grant me the wish to spend the rest of my life with you”. Robb had poured his emotions out into his speech, mistakenly only imagining what he wanted her reply to be. He was not prepared for what Y/N said next.
“No.”
Furrowing his eyes, he dropped one of her hands but still held the other. Shaking his head, he began to apologize profoundly, “I-I’m sorry. I thought maybe there was something between us. Did I ask too soon?”, he looked desperate in front of her, “I can take back the proposal. I can court you properly if that is what you wish – “
“No. No, Robb”, Y/N let her hand drop from his, both now becoming colder by the second, “I can’t marry you”.
The tension crackled in the air as Y/N words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. The room felt suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Robb’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the ground, struggling to contain his emotions and appear unaffected, “Can I ask why?”. Y/N bit her lip, her own emotions consuming her, never wanting more than to cry. “Robb,” she sobbed, “marrying me— being with me would only bring you hell”. Shaking his head, Robb grabbed ahold of her face, staring into her eyes, “What nonsense do you speak of? That can be far from the truth”. Y/N wanted to push his hands off her but was brought warmth by his touch, “But it’s the truth. My presence alone carries a curse. All those I have cherished have been harmed and taken from me”, he delicately removed the tears that were dropping from her eyes, “I’m not supposed to fall in love with you”.
Robb didn’t know what to say, how exactly to comfort her. His only reply being, “there is no such thing as a curse”, which angered her to some extent. Standing abruptly, she screamed out in sorrow, “Yes there is! My mother, my first love, my home— everyone suffered because of me!”, she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands, sobs echoing through the room, “You have suffered enough Robb. I do not wish to cause you more misery”. Robb sprang up quickly and encircled her with an arm, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. As she cried, he felt her body quiver against his chest. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. “Shhh…”, he tried soothing her, “Even if there is a curse, I won’t let it get to me, or you. I will protect you with entire life; you will never be subjected to such pain”, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her head, “I can’t let you go— living out the rest of my life thinking “what if?”.
Shaking her head, she gently pushed him away, “No, Robb”. Y/N stared at him, her eyes reflecting her inner sadness, “This is for my protection and yours. I would not have the strength in me to live if something happened to you”. Walking swiftly towards the door, she ceased her movements when Robb called out to her.
“Y/N. You deserve better”, he spoke truthfully and with sorrow, “You can’t live like this. Someone as extraordinary as you deserves to be happy. To be loved”.
She gripped the door handle, almost hurting her own hand from the pressure. Turning her head, she offered him a pained smile, “Maybe you’re right”, she opened the door, “But such fine things were not made for me in this lifetime”. And she was gone.
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Y/N was unable to sleep the rest of the night, tossing and turning in her bed. Come morning, she mentally prepared herself for a conversation she knew she had to make. Standing in front of the chamber rooms Robb occupied, she knocked. A few seconds later, he opened the door, clear surprise on his face at her presence.
“Hi”, she spoke softly. Robb did not verbally reply to her greeting; opting to nod to her instead. “May I come in?”, she asked, and Robb moved to the side to allow her to enter. Looking at him, his tunic was unlaced— a clear indication she had interrupted him in the middle of dressing up. Y/N was informed that Robb and his men were to leave early morning; all they had to do was suit up and prepare their ships, and then he would be gone.
Facing him entirely, she gestured to his packed supplies in the corner, “I came to wish you a safe journey. I enjoyed our time together”. Robb registered her words, taking a deep breath, “Thank you, my lady”. She didn’t have the strength to correct him. All the while, Robb was struggling to tie up the last laces of his tunic. His hands were shaking. Walking slowly to him, she reached for his hands, moving them away to replace them with hers, “Allow me”.  Robb felt a fire ignite inside him as her gentle touch sent a chill down his spine. Focused on her work, Y/N laced up the complex pattern, her breath quickening as her fingertips touched his bare chest. Finishing up the last lace, she patted his chest and smiled up at him, “There. All done”. She only took one step back before Robb wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her back to him. Y/N gaze softened, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. Slowly and hesitantly, she placed her hand upon his cheek, caressing him. Stretching her neck, she placed a small kiss on his lips, pulling away in mere seconds before either of them could comprehend it. Robb did the same; the two now sharing their second kiss.
For a while, they stood in each other’s embrace in silence. Robb took the next step, closing the small distance and cupping her face in his hands. With a mixture of yearning and desire, she leaned into his touch, gazing up at him as her heart ached. Reaching down, he kissed her with longing and tenderness. Y/N reciprocated right away, moving her mouth with his to match his rhythm. This kiss was longer, both wanting to savor the moment a bit more. The kiss had started off slowly but quickly came alive as they both deepened it. Robb fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him; despite being as physically close as possible. Y/Ns’ body felt on fire; Robb’s touch both gentle yet firm as he traced her body with his other hand. Gasping into his mouth, she was taken by surprise (but did not fight off) at Robb picking her up by the thighs— walking to the small table in his room and dropping her on it. Opening her legs widely, he stood between them, both breathing heavily as they’re lips continued pressing together. Y/N did not know what to do with her hands, moving them all across his body and landing upon his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. Robb was the same; still opting to trace his hands across her thighs and up her breasts— igniting a moan out of her moth that he swallowed with his. Both their lips parted slightly, allowing them to slip their tongues into each other’s.
The room was heating up by the second. The only sounds that could be heard were their muffled groans and heavy breathing. Parting away, Y/N went to work to unlace his tunic— undoing her work. There was some urgency in the way her hands moved, Robb staring at her, intoxicated by her face contoured in rapture. He went straight for her dress, moving the fabric down to expose her shoulders, planting kisses on her. Y/N let out a loud whimper; the feeling of Robb biting into her neck sending a jolt of pleasure and goosebumps over her body. Grabbing his jaw, she returned her attack on his lips; their kiss now getting sloppier by the second, teeth almost clashing against. Y/N was readying herself to further pull her dress down but was interfered by Robb pulling away. Almost desperate like, she chased his lips but was denied.
“No,” Robb spoke, almost sounding to be in pain. His breath was ragged, chest moving up and down and fist clenched to his side, “Not like this”. Y/Ns’ common sense returned, slightly embarrassed that her hunger for him had taken over her completely. She was thankful that Robb had the strength and respect to keep her virtue safe. A few moments passed and their breathing became stable once again. Y/N watched as Robb gazed down at her, his lips red and bruised. Taking a hold of her face in his hand, Robb placed his forehead against her, “I love you”. Y/N could do nothing but nod, wrapping her arms around his torso, “I know”.
He smiled sheepishly at her, caressing her cheek, “Write to me at least. Please. Write to me about anything…even if you have nothing to talk about. I will always send a reply back. I promise”.  She gave him a tight-lipped smile, kissing his hand lightly, “I’ll try”. Robb knew she was lying. As they held each other’s gaze, time appeared to stop and the outside world became less significant. With one last kiss to her temple, Robb picked up his belongings and went out the door.
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Y/N waited a decent number of minutes to pass before she exited the room— making sure there were no prying eyes around. She was hurrying towards her own chambers; wanting to be alone and allowed let all her tears fall free. She didn’t make it far, stopping in her movements at the sound of someone calling her name.
“Y/N”, Daenerys called out at the end of the hallway. Approaching her, she offered her sister a happy smile, “I was looking all over for you. I came to see if you wanted to bid the North men a goodbye- “, Daenerys stopped talking momentarily. Her eyes taking in Y/N disheveled appearance, and the obvious love mark on her neck. “But I can see you must’ve already given your farewell to the King in the North”, she teased.
Y/N nodding, staring down at the ground with her hands picking at the skin around her nails, “Yes, I have. So, I have no need to bid them a further goodbye. If you excuse me, I will retire for the day”. She was barley able to turn her body around before Daenerys grabbed hold of her forearm. “Hold on”, Daenerys said letting out a low chuckle, “It is still early morning. Why would you retire so soon- “. Her amusement dwindled into silence, fully grasping the emotions displayed on her little sisters’ face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”, she inquired anxiously and hastily, “Did that Stark boy do something to you?”, now anger appearing in her voice. Y/N was quick to deny her accusations, “No. He did nothing. It’s what I’ve done to him”. The queen placed a comforting embrace around her sisters’ figure, soothing her hair. “He offered me a marriage proposal, Dany” she sobbed into her shoulders, “And I told him no. I broke his heart”. Daenerys said nothing to the information given to her.  A short interval of silence ensured; disrupted by Daenerys taking in a deep breath.
“Do you love him?”.
She hadn’t expected such a direct question from Daenerys, especially about something she had been trying to conceal. Y/N hesitated for a moment— deciding there was no use in denying it, “I do”.
The older sister pulled away, smiling down lovingly at her, “Then why not go be with him?”. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling over her words, “Because I promised to stick by your side. To help you,” she defended. Staring back at the floor, Y/N inhaled deeply, “Because I am cursed- “
“That is a load of shit”, Daenerys cut in. Y/N gaped at her older sister in disbelief for her vulgar language directed at her. Daenerys persisted with her speech, “You are not cursed, Y/N. Our history might show that our ancestors without the inherited Targaryen traits suffered greatly, but that does not mean all of them will”. Putting both hands on her shoulder, she reassured Y/N, “I know that in their lives they were still able to experience contentment and love. And you should too”.
Whispering softly, Daenerys hold on her sister tightened, “You've gone through a lot, and life has made it difficult to look past your own suffering, I won't deny that. But you need not forget the positive impact that you have on others around you. You undoubtedly brought happiness and love into the lives of your mother as well as those from your pas, and me toot. I'm even more positive that you introduced that into Robb Starks' life as well”.
Daenerys took a moment to recover after her extended address; watching Y/N register every world she spoke. Placing a gentle hand on her face, Daenerys gave her final say, “So, why not go be with him?”.
Y/N expression mirrored her surprise at what she heard. Shaking her head, she repudiated, “B-But what about you? My promise to you- “. She was cut off once again. “I’ve been thinking it over”, Daenerys began, “And I’ve asked too much from you. You are my only family and I wish to keep you by me, but your life is not mine. You control it”. Y/N held her breath, a small tear forming in her eyes. A sense of déjà vu had come to her— those were similar words her own mother had told her. Daenerys smiled widely at her, taking both her hands into her own, “If I am to be a good queen and rule with fairness”, she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I should let you live your life. As your queen, I give you the order to go live a life of happiness with the man you love”. She sustained the cheerful curve of her lips, “Go to him— go be with him in the North. A change of scenery can be good, don’t you think?”.
Y/N didn’t answer her question; instead, she sprang and encircled her sister in a warm hug. “Thank you, Dany,”, she expressed her heartfelt thanks. Daenerys words had opened her eyes; Y/N was not brought into this world to fear it— she was brought in it to appreciate its gifts. The gifts being family, happiness, and love. Daenerys suppressed a laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Pushing the girl slightly, she encouraged her further, “Now go and tell him. Rhaegal will be sad but he’ll live”. Y/N was quick to turn and follow after Robb, but stopped abruptly at Daenerys calling out to her.
“Don’t marry him too soon”. Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that Daenerys was taking back what she said. The older sister waved her hand, shooing the girl away, “I just meant that I wish to be present at the wedding. Now, go”.
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Robb stood beside a couple of his men and advisor at Dragonstone’s port. He watched his men load up the ships, trying to listen to what his advisor was saying but his mind was elsewhere. He came here to acquire the Dragon Queen as his ally— and now he leaves with that success and a broken heart. He traced back the memory of their times together, the warmth of her hands completely enclosing his, the way her eyes sparkled with every grin. A longing buried deep in his chest arose with every thought of Y/N. It was a bittersweet anguish. His advisor next to him cleared his throat, grabbing his attention when he nudged Robbs’ side, “Your grace”. Following the direction of his advisor’s eyesight, his own landed on Y/N— clearly out of breath and showing urgency.
“Y/N”, he called out. Robb was quick to grab ahold of her forearms, inspecting her body for any signs of injury, “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern shown deep in his eyes. Y/N nodded her head, calming down her breathing as she watched his men leave to give them privacy. Staring up at him, she confessed, “I will not write to you”. Robbs’ brows drew together in a frown, feeling as though she was taking a jab at his sorrows. A normal reaction would be to spit fire back, but he was too in love with her.
Swallowing thickly, he responded, “I figured that already- “
“No, let me finish” she interrupted him, “I will not write to you…because I am coming with you”. His eyes widened in disbelief at the statement— not given time to properly respond once again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her palms grw clammy, “Robb…I love you”. At last, he managed to respond, "You do?" with a tone that hinted at both surprise and joy. Y/N nodded, vulnerability showing in the blush of her cheeks and grabbing a hold of his hand, “Yes. I should’ve told you from the start and I should’ve said yes to your proposal- “, she sucked in a trembling breath, “I care about you deeply and I’ve never felt this much love for anyone”. Y/Ns’ heart raced as her words lingered in the crisp morning air. With a subtle shake of her head, she redirected the conversation. “Though I’ve come to see the foolishness in it; I still don’t know if my curse is real or not. All I know is that I wish to spend every minute— every second of my life with you”. Biting her lip gently, she broke eye contact with him, “It is a big risk, I kno- “.
“A risk I am willing to take”, Robb finally cut her off, “I would do anything for you.” In their moment of confession, they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. With their foreheads resting against each other's, a warm yet hesitant smile spread across Y/N face. “So,” she spoke shyly, “is that tour of Winterfell still up for grabs?”
Robb reciprocated her smile with his own, gently lifting his hands to touch her bottom lip. “Yes. It still is” he breathed out, “And my proposal too”. With a gentle tilt of her head, Y/N moved in closer, “Then I say you take me to Winterfell and make me your wife”. Their lips meet in a tender and heartfelt kiss— all their troubles now resolved. A quiet vow of eternity was spoken as their lips moved in rhythm. A familiar roar was heard; Y/N breaking the kiss and laughing as she took notice of Rhaegal in the sky. Robb found himself smiling even more at the sight of her joy; pulling her closer to him.
A cheeky grin formed across her face, “I think Lady of Winterfell has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”
Robb chuckled, caressing her face, “I think Queen of Winterfell sounds nicer. I also think the title of “Robb Starks’ Wife” suits you even more”. Y/N jokingly jabbed her elbow into his side, slightly squeaking as Robb reclaimed her lips in his. They both were filled with excitement and anticipation for what their future together awaited.
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biscuitdragonwithastick · 1 year ago
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Wolf in Sheeps Clothing, Another idea
While writing, it's common to come up with multiple ideas centered around one idea. For this prompt, there was quite a few I was considering:
CW: Monsterfucking, noncon, eggpreg, broodmare fetish, pregnancy kink
What if the monster was well known on the farm. You're the rookie out grazing with the sheep when your pushed down and fucked full of eggs. Your fellow farm hands drag you back to the farmhouse and explain that what this monster is. It protects the sheep and cattle and even the farmers. There isn't just one on the farm, probably dozens, but they're all complete replicas of their mimicked animal. You can't tell which one is which and at this point there's no real reason to try and discern the creatures. You're not allowed to kill them and, honestly, the only reason why they haven't tried to kill everyone here is that you're all useful for taking their brood. What does it matter that a few livestock goes missing overnight and a farmhand is left pregnant for the next few months when you some useful monsters at your side more than happy to keep the herd safe.
Or maybe the monster just leaves you there. Hole unplugged. The eggs don't settle within you and quickly try to evacuate the way they came. It takes fifteen minutes of pushing for a pile of eggs to brush between your thighs. That's when your finally able to sit up and get into a more natural position on all fours, letting gravity do all the work. You hate how pleasurable it is to birth these eggs, but you can't get pregnant with them. You'd hate to what birthing them months from now would be like. It takes an hour of groaning and painful spasming orgasms to finally feel like you've gotten rid of them all. You even stuff a hand inside to see if you can force any out manually. You're thankful when you finally get back home to owrest. Terrified of going back to tend to your flock, but shits still got to get done around here. And, as the months dredge on and try to forget what happened, you start to notice that knowing bulge of your stomach growing bigger.
I always love the stories of people being strapped to the underbellies of centaurs and being fucked with every step. It went in a way different direction than the prompt, but imagine if it hadn't left you there. Instead you were assimilated into its body. You hadn't seen the eggs against its facade, no one would be able to see you, stuffed full of tentacles at both ends and gravid with eggs. The other farmhands you worked with would wonder what happened to you, its just like you vanished into thin air. If only they knew you were being fucked among the herd grazing out in field unnoticed. The only time you weren't stuffed is when you were finally allowed to birth the eggs. They quickly grew into their own adult "sheep" and kidnapped their own broodmares to be bred. How many would have to disappear before an investigation occurred? Or maybe you were sacrificed to this creature on purpose.
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circeswhore · 2 months ago
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In hindsight, all those fetish stores you consumed should have taught you not to go into a dimly lit antique store that suddenly appeared overnight in the mall with a name like "Wish Cum True", but you did and you didn't think anything strange about walking out of there with a tube of lipstick at least twice as old as you were. The color was just so vibrant, so pure, so pink. And the slender, well-dressed shopkeeper with the dark red colored contacts said it suited you so well that you could have it for free! How generous! And, at that point, how could you refuse?
The first time you put it on, fuck... The next exhale takes so much of your tension along with it. Your shoulders relax, your muscles release, and when your eyes flutter open, you're so relieved that you let out a little giggle. You look so pretty in the mirror! That man was right; the color does suit you. You should listen to men more. That thought strikes you as a little odd, but you lick your lips and see the lipstick glisten and suddenly you're not so worried about it anymore. In fact, it becomes difficult to worry about much of anything. It's like thoughts slide right off your mind, unable to even find the words to articulate them before they disappear into the void. You smile and give a little mental wave as they vanish. You know, instinctively, that you don't really need them anymore.
But there are some thoughts that manage to stick. Usually they're just vague, little more than a word or two. The word HORNY resounds in your mind like a gong, each repetition sending waves of warmth through your body. Your body rolls, arching your back, writhing your hips, eager to find stimulation from somewhere. You look down at yourself, your skin now glistening with a faint sheen of sweat, and another word pops into your head: BIGGER!
As soon as the word hits you, the warmth in your body concentrates in your chest. Pathetic whimpers escape your lips as the pressure builds and builds and builds. You reach up to grab your chest only to find there's more there to grab than ever before. Your eyes widen in surprise, that surprise only growing as your breasts do, too. You watch in rising arousal as they transform, in your grip, from chest to breast to boobs to tits to titties to big, bouncy boobies! You giggle, kneading the soft flesh that spills out around your fingers, alternating between soft laughter and deep moans. Your whole body feels alight with desire.
You're so wrapped up in your own boobies that you don't even notice your skin smoothing, your body hair simply fading away. All blemishes vanish, sun damage repairing, leaving your skin clean and smooth and almost... Shiny. Your eyes drift shut as pleasure overwhelms you, shielding you from the sight of your skin tone changing. It doesn't just even out, it becomes a uniform shade of pale pink, a "skin tone" color that no one actually has. It spreads over your whole body, stiffening your joints as it goes. A close observer would notice a line on the outside of your limbs, almost like a seam.
You only notice something is off when you realize that your boobies aren't as soft as they were a moment ago. They feel strangely firm, your skin pushing back against your fingers in an odd way, not able to sink in as deep. Your fingers spread out as your boobies inflate, becoming round, almost spherical. When you open your eyes, they look almost like beachballs, huge and round and perfectly spherical, your skin shining like plastic. Another word echoes inside your vacant mind:
DOLL
You don't have the time or the mental capacity to properly react as your body finishes its transformation. The plastic sheen smoothes over the rest of your body, down to your hips and legs, up over your collarbone and neck. You let out one last lewd moan as it creeps up over your chin, your mouth locked into a lewd 0. The inside of your mouth fills in, soft material that would comfortably squeeze anything out inside it. A bit of drool leaks down your chin, your mouth now self-lubricating in ways it wasn't before. A few moments later, Lilac the person is gone and only Lilac the, quite literally, air-headed fuckdoll remains.
You always did want to be useful.
kjhhgdssdfghhf
yes please this would fix me
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silk-flower · 2 days ago
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Chasing After Dark [James Sunderland X Reader]
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synopsis: Is it so wrong to be enticed by the eyes of a man filled with sorrow? Just as emotionally unavailable at times, but oh so sickly captivating in his desperation at the same time. Whatever this is a disrespectful desire for something you just can't have or a blatant need, you're not so utterly selfish in your desire as one might assume.
status: part 2 [you are here], part 1, read on AO3
content warning: female reader, she is kind of... broken, angst [?], probably very self indulgent, death of a character (prior), grieving, trying to move on, self-deprecating thoughts, slight horror, mutual attraction, age gap, romance
author's note: I started working on this shortly after the first part because I felt compelled to give somewhat of a reader's pov and turn the story the other way around. I also like making James suffer, haha
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You wake up feeling warm. The unusual sensation of snug and coziness makes you sigh with content and want to go right back to sleep, but your eyes snap open as soon as you realize where you are. In this strange abandoned town, the cause of its desolation unknown to you, giving off a strange feeling the residents vanished overnight. Silent Hill, the town of forgotten memories. Belongings and valuables left behind, weapons even; these strange chasms around the town ruining its landscape and creatures straight out of nightmares chasing after any living being. All of this gave you the eerie feeling inside your gut, your mind screaming, "Leave!" at you every time you found yourself walking through the thick, milky fog. It seemed like one could only run and hide for so long, exhaustion and the constant feeling of dread taking over you, causing you to fall dead asleep at last.
You glance at your wristwatch instinctively, the still clock handle instantly reminding you that it had stopped somewhere around 9 p.m. yesterday. Or was it today? You can't tell night from day in this fog, and your sense of time is fading as well. So you don't know what time it is right now. Does it really matter? It's not like you're expecting the nurse to come in and check on you. Your own foolish inside joke causes you to giggle uncontrollably but you still youeself just as fast. You shouldn't laugh at those ladies. If James hadn't saved you, those things may have killed you.
James, eh? You now see why you were fortunate to sleep soundly; the poor fellow must have been so worn out that he fell on top of you. You tremble a little when his tired head nestles in your sheet-covered tummy, half of his sullen face hidden, and you feel his slow breaths on your skin through the thin fabric. His lower body remains fairly aware while seated on the rolling chair, with his hands spread out on either side of your torso. You shift under his weight, trying to get more comfortable but his fingers clench the fabric and he whimpers, his clingy demeanor stilling you. You feel bad instantly. If nothing else, you ought to make yourself a cushion for him.
ー Mary...
You hum in approval softly as you watch this exhausted, suffering man call the beautiful name in his sleep. The name that haunts him no doubt. But now he had to lug about another burden, the annoying nuisance he didn't ask for when he first arrived in this town, bearing the weight of his own past. Always hiding behind him, pleading for aid, forcing him to run to your side, even if he said it was no problem. His reasons for being here were more urgent than this, bigger than you. If he had time at all, he was running out of it.
But his sweetness and compassion remained unwavering. Was it really true, or was it your imagination playing tricks on you in its slowly crumbling state? You weren't sure. However, occasionally you would find yourself savoring the delicate feel of his larger hand on your shoulder or waist as he walked by you in a confined area that wasn't absolutely necessary, but he did it anyhow, perhaps subconsciously. When you found yourselves crumpled tightly together inside some filthy closet, hiding from the creatures, his soiled palm tightly pressing itself to your mouth as you tried to still your haggard breathing. The feeling of hot fingers on your lips only made your heart beat stronger as he stared into your eyes, tension and fear of being discovered prominent in them. Making you feel even more vulnerable as you were. But perhaps the both of you needed it, fighting the growing darkness and horrors of this cursed town. Or maybe he just pitied you like you pitied him.
From the very beginning you knew you were in no position to. The look you gave him after he told you his story and the distant reaction that followed told you everything you needed to know. He didn't need your pity nor reassurance. James wanted his wife, or at least something left of her, back. Wanted his Mary back. He didn't want to leave this town despite him claiming otherwise. Even while you were conscious of your own selfish impulses, this made you want to help him even more — maybe help him find clarity, answers, or even some sort of peace.
Because what three-year widower travels alone to an abandoned ghost town to search for his late wife after receiving some letter that is probably some cruel prank? In hope of the tiniest chance of seeing a ghost of her or something connected to her. As your eyes stray to James' weary face, the bags under his eyes more noticeable now that he's lying down in the faint light of the hospital lamp, you contemplate. This Mary, even though you never had the pleasure of meeting her aside from the worn-out picture, was one lucky woman. She must have been, because now as you look at her faded husband, you kind of understand what she saw in him.
Sometimes you felt like you could sink in the depths of those sad, soft eyes. Though it wasn't you whose reflection constantly surged up in them when you found him staring into space. James was a good husband. The kind of husband that scoops you up and spins you around in a small apartment as you both laugh, and who offers you warm embraces from behind. The type of spouse that most likely brings you breakfast in bed while mocking your drowsiness. Perhaps the kind of husband who makes sensitive love to you as the first rays of soft dawn peek through the curtains, and the kind who wakes you up with gentle kisses in the morning...
ー Pfft. Wouldn't you like to know, ー you mock yourself, gnawing on your lip distractedly.
It seemed like you were so desperate for this stranger's attention, you were about to let him take advantage of you just a few hours ago. In no way was this fair to him in his current state of mind, still grieving and searching for anything with connection to his late wife, hopeful, looking for the only woman for him. And you just embarrassed yourself in your immaturity and greed, seeking comfort and confinement in him when he was the one needing it most. Trying to seduce a widower. James must think you're just a stupid girl.
As you watch James sleep restlessly in your lap, your fingers absently running through his somewhat greasy blond hair, embarrassment heats up your cheeks. You can see the early appearance of silver through your fingertips as some of the stray hairs on the parting protrude. With a feeble smile, you turn away and tuck a few of the loose hairs behind this man's ear. You have no right to wonder about those things here, and it's literally not the time or place for such fanciful thoughts. How absurd. Not like you're not pretending not to feel those same hazel eyes linger on your behind as you climb through moldy vents, drinking in your figure's curves with your back turned to him. You don't have to see it, really; it's woman's intuition.
Because, at least in your mind, you need him to survive in this town. The only reason you're still alive is because of him. If it wasn't for James, your body would have been lying on the sidewalk already, torn apart and joining the likes of those disgusting creatures covered in viscera and reeking of blood, dragging their forsaken souls straight to hell. Back there, he saved your life.
ー Glad you're alive. Hey... Can you hear me? Are you hurt anywhere? ー he looked at you with that kind concern on his tired face as he touched your, a complete stranger's, shoulder in an attempt to check on you. He wasn't prepared for you to sob in front of him instead of flinching away.
So you found yourself drawn to him in return for his silent protection, like a silly lost puppy following its rightful owner. Even though this was the most ridiculous and overdone comparison you could have made, it nonetheless strangely suited you. He took you in and treated your wounds like a discarded dog's that no one loved, and eventually you found yourself feeling envious of this good man's deceased wife.
She was dead anyway, and you were here for him, ready to try and understand, erase that grim fate he had created for himself, maybe even love him. You could be everything she ever was and more for him. Demure, gentle, and soft-spoken — is that how he likes his women? That could be you. Tend after a small garden, dress up modestly and even try and learn to play the piano, even though you never liked it. That sure would make him like you more, with time. Make you a good substitute. The most you'll ever be. Gosh, are you going crazy?
You're smart enough to know that will never happen. She's something so significant to him; the first thing he remembers is staring at the water by her side the whole day. You have no chance against a woman that is not even here. Not in flesh at least. The weight of that thought makes you laugh silently, your body shaking in unison with your bitter "ha-ha-ha".
As you giggle with James' head remaining on top of your stomach, your upper body shakes, causing it to rise and fall quickly. Before you can stop yourself, he begins to move, his eyelids flickering slowly as he grunts. The movement causes his head to bob up and down on your lap, which makes you laugh even harder. His tired, baggy eyes flutter open as his bleary hazel gaze catches your apologetic one.
ー Shoot, did I wake you? I'm sorry, James, I didn't mean to, ー your tone is completely out of sync with what you're saying, your free hand covering your still half-smiling mouth, other nestled in his hair awkwardly. You try to slide it away, but he buries his face in your tender hand, prodding you with his chapped lips and plump nose as though he's looking for solace and warmth. James's gentle breaths across your skin cause your eyes to widen, and they come out with a hum of relief.
ー It's fine, just, ー James pauses for a few seconds, as if thinking over his next words, ー Can we stay like this? Just for a little while.
The blonde man looks up at you, that sad stare and uncertainty in his eyes, like he's expecting you to push him away for ever proposing an act of closeness like this. His eyes instantly close as you nod in approval, a tiny smile ever preserved on your bright face.
James buries his face in your soft hand as he exhales, relieved that your laughter woke him up. You should probably get going, but he makes no move to get up yet. Making sure you're living and breathing, unscratched, unlike in his fever dream where that hellish red pyramid thing took a hold of you.
It seems as though he is both present and not at the same moment, unable to move or help you while you beg for his aid. He is reduced to a role of a mere spectator, watching as the beast encloses you in its wounded arms, crushing your delicate body with a few clenches of its swollen muscles. Pulling you by your bruised legs like a rag doll as you struggle to break off its hold. All of your attempts are futile as you groan and cry out like one of those disfigured nurses when they get mutilated.
You're falling apart. It's breaking you. James, unable to tear his eyes away, begs pathetically on his knees, unable to move as if he's been bound to the floor by some unseen force. His breath catches in his throat as he watches, helpless, the horrifying scene unfolding before him. Even from a distance, he can feel her fear as your cries reverberate in his ears.
His muscles scream for release as he pushes himself harder, his lungs burning. Yet, the fog appears to encircle him, hindering him and painfully preventing him from reaching the terrifying scene. The pyramid thing pauses, its helmet swiveling towards James. A deep, guttural growl emanates from within the helmet, the sound sending icy tendrils of fear down James's spine.
ー Let go of her, you fucking monster! I'll kill you! ー he heaves as he hears your pitiful, hopeless whine, like you're bracing yourself for the inevitable.
Stop it.
The poor man is crying quietly while still holding onto your blanket, his hands trembling a little as you look on in confusion. What a wretched soul. It must be so hard for him to hold on in this never-ending nightmare.
ー James? ー you call out to him as you move your finger to wipe a stray tear rolling down his hollow cheek, your brows knitting together in pity, ー Maybe it's hard to believe, but you're not alone in this. This town, those things... But we need to hold on a little bit more. We're so close; I can feel it.
He knows you're right. He has to move forward; there's no turning back now. James won't let that hellish red thing nor anyone else get in his way. This time he will do everything right; just wait for him patiently, like you always did, Mary.
God, his weight must be crushing you. He just realizes that he's practically lying on top of you. A grown man crying and clinging to you must make you think he's crazy. The truth wouldn't be far away.
As he rises from your lap, James gathers his thoughts, the warmth of your body and the comforter slowly vanishing. He hopes he could spend a bit more time with you in this moment, but he doesn't have time to relax in this circumstance or in the place itself. His bleary gaze meets yours, and it seems like he lost his train of thought suddenly. James clears his throat.
ー Yeah... You're right. I guess this place got to me too after all, ー "Don't look so upset because of me", he wants to say, but refrains the last second.
ー I'm ready to go when you are, ー he outstretches his hand to you instead, his inner self desperate to feel your warmth once more, even for a few seconds. He knows it's selfish to ask for more than he already did, but you don't seem to mind his offer, as you let your delicate hand slip into his with a tiny smile on your face. The feeling of this absolute trust is so pure and devoid of words; at the same time, he can feel it tugging on his heartstrings. You trust him. And he's thankful for those rare moments of tranquility you're allowed to share before diving right back into the dark abyss.
James' kind gesture sends little pleasant shocks to your gut as you hop off the hospital bed in a better mood. You still hold onto his hand as his bigger, warm palm envelopes yours like a thick glove, giving you this sweet illusion of safety. He doesn't seem to want to let go of you either as you walk through dimly lit corridors hand in hand, your form slightly behind him.
Never minding the forthcoming horrors of this place, you can't help but smile to yourself, your eyes dreamy as you stare at your feet marching in unison. You can't help but hope that whatever is waiting for you on that path doesn't show its ugly head for a long while, making this sweet nightmare feel even more unending.
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angelicyouth · 11 months ago
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Beautiful
⇢ pairing: Wendy Testaburger x marsh!reader
⇢ synopsis: ❝Words can lie but actions don't.❞
⇢ [AO3 link]
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The brightness of the moonlight peeks in through the glass panel of the window, its white luminescence cascading down onto the sleeping visage of the teen lying next to you. Her chest slowly rises up and down, her rhythmic breathing a cathartic sound in the comforting silence that engulfs the quiet night.
She’s absolutely ethereal—the perfect definition of the word that beautiful encompasses. 
The sleeping girl embodies the very word, as if the group of letters were formed with her in mind and for her only. Every intonation and every cadence of the word perfectly suits her—she is the very imagery people think of when they read the printed word in a dictionary. If one were to look at possible synonyms, her very name would be written under it.
The illumination peeking through the material of the curtains blesses her gorgeous features, gently caressing her soft skin to further accentuate her delicate face. In the warm embrace of the bright moon, your eyes greedily drink in the way her long eyelashes gently lay against her cheeks. 
From the perfect slope of her nose and down to the gorgeous pair of smooth, plump lips—a pink so beautiful that it was the most perfect shade for the undertones of her skin. There’s a soft hue of crimson tinting the porcelain expanse of her cheeks, a vivid contrast that only further accentuates the shade of her body. 
During your admiration, you bring out a hand to lightly caress her cheeks—slender fingers lightly skimming themselves over the expanse of her skin. They trail ever so softly, the touch being almost nonexistent in the secrecy of the darkness that accompanies the late hour of the night. You’re mesmerized as you watch her face cutely scrunch up when the feeling of your digits lightly tickles her to semi-consciousness, causing you to still your body in fear of awakening the sleeping beauty right next to you.
When she finally settles without the threat of awakening, her face seemingly begins to seek the warmth of your hand as they softly turn to nuzzle itself into your open palm. You gently bring your hold further back to the soft, silky strands of hair that adorns her head to lightly tuck the loose, black locks away from her face.
The sight of her form is hypnotic and you can only find yourself wistfully sighing at Wendy Testaburger. 
・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
She’s texting you again—the girl never fails to when she gets into an argument with her boyfriend.
TEXT MESSAGE (WENDY TESTABURGER)
Beautiful (Wendy): we broke up.
N/N: again?
Beautiful (Wendy): yeah…
N/N: you need to be patient with yourself, the pain doesn’t just vanish overnight 
N/N: you heal one day at a time, one step at a time
N/N: and maybe, just maybe, in six months from now, you'll find yourself enjoying a day where the pain ceases to exist
N/N: be gentle on yourself, allow the healing process to take place.
Beautiful (Wendy): thank you, N/N <3
Beautiful (Wendy): i don’t know what i’d ever do without you, you’re always there for me when i need it
You begin to type out a long paragraph before the sound of a new message causes you to stop.
Beautiful (Wendy): i can’t wait until we become official sister-in-laws, you’ll be the best one ever! :) 
Ah.
You quickly delete the words you were previously writing out, your fingers tapping against the glass screen of your cell phone until there wasn’t a single letter to erase anymore. Once that task is done, you stare for a moment before you decide to just forgo replying entirely, closing the whole message log until the sight of your homescreen wallpaper greets you. 
Because, you realize not for the first time, that it doesn’t matter.
It never matters.
・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
“What do you want from me, Wendy?!” You struggle to yell in between each sob that threatens to escape from your throat, your hands roughly rubbing against the already angry red of your tear-stained cheeks.
Her hands reach out to delicately grab at your wrists in an attempt to stop yourself from irritating your skin even more, her eyes wide in panic and her voice trembling as she takes in your tired eyes. “You! I want you. It will always be you, Y/N. Don’t you get that? If I had the choice between you and a million things I've always wanted, I would choose you every single time.”
The area between your eyebrows furrow together as you yank your hands away, the raventte in front of you holding her breath to hear your quiet voice against the frantic sound of her rapidly beating pulse. “I have always belonged to you, Wendy. And for that, I suffered.”
Your words cause a pained expression to spread across her face but you cut her off from speaking when you see her lips begin to part, “I've waited. I've always waited. I waited for your soul to recognize me as home. I waited for you to desire eternity with me. I waited for your heart to express yourself. I waited for your actions to reveal to me the love that you couldn’t convey in words.”
You look away as the hurt and frustration in your eyes slowly fade away to reflect the hollow emptiness you’ve been feeling inside, “Maybe… I deserve better. But I want you.”
“… You know I'm in love with your brother.” Her voice cracks but despite the pain she inflicts upon you, you can't help but to think to yourself in this moment that the way the tears flow down her cheeks made her look beautiful. 
You bitterly smile at what you’ve always known, “You don’t think I don't know that? I never wanted this to be a lesson—I wanted this to be love.”
At your words, she allows herself to bring you close to her again. Your eyes clench shut when she wraps an arm around your waist and her hand softly cradles your cheek despite the salty residue making the surface of it to be sticky.
You plead in a whisper, “Don’t do that. Please don’t do that to me, Wendy. Please.”
But of course, she doesn’t listen. She never has and it was allowing her to do whatever she pleases in the first place that caused all of this because now you’re filled with a love that has nowhere to go or anybody to give it to.
She rests her face against the warm solace of your neck, now wrapping both her arms around your form as you blankly stare at the wall behind her in defeat. You think to yourself that you have nobody to blame but yourself for the boundaries you’ve never placed on both yourself and the ravenette.
You’re already hurting so with a bitter smile, you bring your arms up to hold her back. Both of your loves for each other were different but while her and Stan were broken up, she would shower you with the kind that toed the line between platonic and romantic with vague promises and teasing words like always.
Until, of course, they got back together again and then the cycle would repeat.
Not for the first time, and not for the last—Wendy Testaburger was as cruel to you as she was beautiful.
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cottonundiestf · 9 months ago
Note
You know what, Layla? Let's give you your break. We're going to give you a delightful life and you are going to be aware of every change I make!
Let's start with your Charisma, I think a small boost to this would be lovely for your career and social life, so let's bump that up to a 16.
In this new life I'm giving you I don't think you'll need much strength, so we can drop that to a dainty 9. I'm sure you'll easily find strong ladies and gentlemen to help you when needed.
Let's drop your intelligence down to a solide 7, not to dumb you down, but to brighten you up! Can't overthink yourself into a depressive state if you can't overthink! It is clearly a favor.
Next, we are actually going to give you a solid bump in Wisdom to a big 18. This bump isn't in everything, though. You aren't going to be streetwise, or home remedy wise, no. You are wise when it comes to people, whether that is cheering them up or, if you are feeling malicious, manipulating them into doing or feeling what you want.
We are also going to generally increase you ibero-american beauty. You are going to be putting Sofia Vergara to shame when I'm done with you. Silken, jet-black hair; glowing, bronzed skin; glistening caramel eyes; and a body to die for! Hourglass curves with grippable hips, a waspy waist, and the most perfect tits a girl could ask for; all atop sculpted legs that go on forever.
All of this adds up to your new career as a world-renowned escort for only the wealthiest of clients. They don't hire you for ensure of a carnal variety, no, they enlist your services to elevate their emotional well-being to a higher state. Through your new satin accent and charming personality, all you have to do to satisfy a client is be in their company for an amount of time. You are now an emotional support human for the rich and famous. Enjoy.
It was a change I felt overnight. One day, I woke up and all my social interactions just smoothed out. Baristas were flirting with me and bosses gave me plenty of leeway. I felt the softening of muscles, but it wasn't like I was getting into fights; I'd just talk my way out of trouble if worst came to worst.
Even when it hit me how much my thoughts had slowed down and knowledge seemed to just vanish, I didn't stress. Something assured me I'd be just fine, dummy or not. Life was about understanding people, and I was suddenly so insightful with others, it felt like cheating. It was like being a mind reader who could see the feelings in someone's face.
It was the next day when I woke up, looked in the mirror, and saw an ideal version of myself. Everything my Portuguese roots offered, I had unlocked overnight. My pale skin was perfectly tanned and taught, pairing with this new stunning hourglass figure. I ran my hands over my chest, full and almost unnaturally perky. When I spoke, I even heard the familiar accent of my overseas family on my tongue.
Between my looks and my charms, it wasn't long before I started my new career, body doubling with wealthy clients in emotional turmoil. I was right; I didn't need brains for a wonderful life. I just needed to listen.
And an amazing pair of tits didn't hurt.
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lostonehero · 8 months ago
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Tma X Malevolent
Insert interesting descriptions and that I didn't write this like 20 minutes before my shift started.
"Before you say anything really, you left without any true questions to help you. I told you the truth, none of my words was a lie, father. However, if you actually paused for a moment, maybe I would have told you how everything connects to the man who ends the world. Sure, you could kill him, but who's who's say someone else won't do the same? You have eternity it's bound to happen if you don't go for the source." Martin smiles. "I did enjoy the peace for about two hours, but it seems we should actually talk." He sighs. "I don't want you to kill my friends, and you probably feel cheated for me tricking you so I'd you end up killing me. I don't really care."
"Why would I kill you?" Kayne stared at his son. His blood. A boy that stared back at him and he knew from this moment onward he would never let any harm come to him. Was this why Arthur would do anything for Foroe? Is this why humans sacrifice themselves for a chance at their spawn making it? He's never felt anything like this before it confused him and maybe even frightened him.
Martin stepped back the fight in his eyes seem to vanish. He hugs his chest. "Tim and Danny went back to their home, Arthur is in the apartment you created. John is still with his grandmother." He sighs and frowns. "What do you want?"
Kayne tilted his head. He didn't like the look Martin was giving him. "You are upset."
"I'm tired." Martin starts to walk to the new apartment. "I'm tired, and I know I'm nowhere near your age or mentality, but I'm tired."
Kayne didn't like this one bit. "Do you sleep?"
Martin pauses. "I don't know if I still can."
"Oh." Kayne floats behind him as they quietly walk back to their new home.
......
"Arthur." Kayne pauses as the man turns to look at him. "How does one be a father?"
Arthur chokes midbite of his sandwich. "W-what?"
"Kayne is looking to Martin's closed door. He seems unsure, and he isn't smiling." John sounded nervous himself.
"A father, Arthur, you were one. I don't like these icky emotions from seeing Martin like this." Kayne crosses his arms and vanishes, returning covered in fresh blood. "And that didn't help that at all."
"There's not a guidebook." Arthur frowns, placing his sandwich down. "Martin isn't a child either, well maybe to you and John he's an infant but to a human even if he's stuck in the body if his thirteen year old self he's an adult one who has seen hell and crawled his way out kicking and screaming. You don't just heal overnight from that."
"He asked me if I was going to kill him for telling the truth and causing me to search blind." Kayne pauses. "I didn't like that. Why would I hurt him? Why did he think I would hurt him? That was impressive, and on top of that, he didn't even lie to me during any of that."
"You're not going to like my answer." Arthur swallows, even blind and without John's narration he knew for a fact Kayne was staring daggers into him. "He was raised human and to his knowledge till recently he was a human. Have you considered that his other parental figures weren't kind to him and wished him death."
"Why would they do that?" Kayne was right next to Arthur he could feel his ice-cold breath on his cheek.
"I don't know." Arthur shivers as Kayne moves away just as sudden as he appears.
Kayne growls. "I do not understand these feelings... I will be back." He vanished, leaving just a pool of blood where it dripped off of him.
Arthur gasps. "Fuck."
......
Martin hugs his knees to his chest. He wasn't upset about his father, nor was he upset at the Arthur and John guy. He wasn't really mad that he wasn't human. Could he consider himself human before at the end? No, he was just tired. Tim and Jon probably hated him now or worse, was scared of him, and he didn't want to lose the people he cared about, those who knew the truth. He didn't know if he was capable of love anymore.
A soft knock on Martin's door didn't really pull him out of his thoughts, but it pulled him out of bed. He opened the door to Arthur. "Oh, uh, hello.... I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to call you both out. It's been a whirlwind of the past, uh... I don't actually know how long it's been."
"We wanted to ask if you're ok." Arthur smiles softly.
"Kayne is difficult." John adds.
Martin shakes his head. "It's not him to be fair. I'm upset and I'm tired. I accepted my death, and I just woke up on whatever pocket dimension my father and you guys were in."
"How about some tea? I'm sure that hasn't changed in nearly 100 years." Arthur tries to joke but it falls flat.
"I can make you some tea." Martin smiles. "I enjoy the process."
It was a quiet peace for a moment.
"You're quite excellent at this." Arthur hums softly. "I didn't even tell you how I enjoy it."
Martin smiles. "I guess I've always had a knack for what people liked in tea." He places another mug down. "Do you know if Kayne drinks liquids? I have a habit of always making extra."
"I know as the king food wasn't needed nor really wanted." John pauses. "I still don't understand the need for eating."
"It keeps me alive, John." Arthur sighs and sips his tea.
John grumbles.
Martin chuckles softly. "Well, is it bad that I hope he drinks it?" He sighs and frowns at his mug and then to the one in front of an empty chair. He taps his fingers against the table. "I don't actually know what it's like to have parents that care about you."
"What do you mean?" John sounded curious. "Don't humans tend to adopt orphan children?"
"Or they tend to end up in an orphanage John and age out of the system like Oscar, or myself I ended up in boarding school." Arthur sighs.
"Foster care." Martin swallows. "Since I was born, uh parents who foster kids get paid to do that, and a lot abuse the system." He looks away. "My biological mother killed herself while I was being born. Well, that's what my foster mom kept tormenting me with."
"Fuck." John sounded disgusted. "They took you in for greed?"
"I was their caregiver as long as I could recall. She was a sick woman, and..." Martin stares at his tea and gasps when it turns a bright red. "Fuck!"
"What?" Arthur can't see what happened.
"It seems he accidently turned his cup of tea to blood.... no, it seems to have an odd scent."
"Paint." Arthur corrects.
Martin groans and covers his face. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. You're new to this, and maybe strong emotions can cause unfortunate occurances of your abilities." John pauses. "I think we can help."
"How?" Martin frowns, grabbing the mug, and he holds it up and gasps softly when it's taken, and an obnoxious sip is heard.
Kayne licks the red paint from his lips. "Hum odd bite but bold taste I like it."
Martin blinks. "I uh sorry I ruined the tea. Your mug is over there. That was mine, and I accidently turned it to paint."
Kayne hums. "You still made it."
"I did..." Martin swallows as Kayne takes another sip.
"You can have the tea, then I like this. Ooo, and it's red. I do enjoy the color red." Kayne crosses his legs as he floats.
Martin blinks and takes the mug meant for Kayne. "Um, ok..."
"Did you sleep?" Kayne smiles at Martin.
"No? I mean not yet... uh, " Martin shifts in his seat. He sips tea from the mug he took.
.......
"I expected a castle." Kayne tisks feet firmly planted to the ground and no blood on him.
"It's a institute, why would it be a castle?" Jon raised a brow.
"Again Jon, he's not from the plane of reality, for all we know that could mean something else." Danny hums. "But a castle would be cooler."
"There are underground tunnels." Tim adds.
"Is this before or after Letnier started to live down there?" Martin hums, crossing his arms. "Also, what is our plan? Jonah isn't going to let kids run around his institute, let alone the actual archives."
"We aren't that young...." Jon thins his lips. "I could alert him I'm here by looking."
"It isn't polite to stare." Kayne smiles and leans next to Jon.
"That's the Beholders thing." Martin sighs.
Jon shudders.
Arthur clears his throat. "You said underground tunnels, we could use those to get in."
"It's a blind spot for the beholding as well, but I don't know an entrance." Martin hums softly. "Or we can go in and pretend we're students doing a project."
"Yeah, no." Tim scowls. "I am not being friendly to Jonah."
"We could have Kayne give a statement." Jon crosses his arms. "I mean, that probably won't work. You'll probably be asked to write one instead of seeing someone."
"That would also require him to act human." Martin pauses for a moment and gasps. "Arthur!"
"Y-yes?" Arthur raised his brow.
"He can give a statement." Martin nods.
"On what?" Arthur frowns.
"You can literally pick anything and including how you met John." Martin snickers. "It's an institute that records the supernatural."
"Jonah uses that to feast on statements from people who have faced the other fears." Jon pursed his lips and hums. "However, they would probably think Arthur's statement is fake."
"What about Gertrude?" Tim sighs. "Sasha talked about her being sharp as a whip, and well, she was like a one woman army against the fears stopping every ritual."
"A one woman army. She sounds fun." Kayne giggles.
Arthur sighs. "We'll... I will go in and ask to make a statement. Maybe this Jonah could sense John... my John... and that could stir something."
Jon waves his hand. "What are we even trying to do? We need a way to get in and look for something that could put us in direct connection to the fear powers to maybe interact with them."
"The best way for that is probably artifact storage, and none of us are going to get in there like this." Tim groans.
"Then Arthur baby can get a job there." Kayne smiles.
"Jonah wouldn't hire a blind man." Jon, Tim and Martin say at the same time.
"Then I will get a job to look through these toys." Kayne smiles already, walking up the stairs.
Everyone gives a look to each other and follows behind him.
......
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londonspirit · 1 year ago
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The Big Picture
The second season of Our Flag Means Death takes a unique approach to the trope of separating romantic couples, exploring the emotional ramifications instead of resolving it quickly.
Season 2 delves into the heartbreaking consequences of the split between Stede and Ed, showcasing Stede's pure affection and Ed's descent into self-destruction and violence.
While their reunion is a melodramatic and intimate affair, the emotional reconciliation between Stede and Ed will likely unfold over time due to the aftermath they have both experienced. The show's strength lies in its intentional pacing and character development.
Tropes are tropes for a reason: when done with clever forethought, they're a comforting delight. As with anything recycled a hundred times over, however, there are the Bad Tropes; the "please, beloved media, don't fall into that lazy writing trap." One of these Bad Tropes surrounds break-ups. When a series separates its main romantic couple, the split tends to lack lasting consequences or finds itself resolved altogether too quickly. Exploring the emotional ramifications for each character, let alone those on the periphery, takes a backseat in favor of restoring things to the status quo. It shouldn't be a surprise to fans of Our Flag Means Death that Season 2's first three episodes didn't take the expected route. Nevertheless, the relief that the first season's intelligent writing didn't vanish overnight burns as bright as the fictional pain that cuts like a knife.
David Jenkins' period pirate rom-com could've easily, immediately reunited the unlikely star-crossed lovers Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) and Edward Teach/Blackbeard (Taika Waititi) or smoothed over their climatic separation. Season 2 does neither, avoiding that temptation. It forces its own storytelling to earn their reunion in a way as slow burn as the romance's development. For a series already acknowledged for its insightful writing, that's the smartest move David Jenkins could've made.
‘Our Flag Means Death’ Season 2 Earns Its Darkness
Season 1 of Our Flag Means Death was aggressively revolutionary in its quiet normalization. It shattered Western television's long-established history of queerbaiting (teasing an LGBTQIA+ relationship for attention but never confirming it) just by existing. Our Flag Means Death's romance between Stede Bonnet and Ed Teach wasn't just unambiguous, it was a tender takedown of toxic masculinity, an intimate exploration of male vulnerability, and a story of two opposites stumbling into their perfect compliment. By seeing beyond the other's unconventional exterior and expressing tenderness, Stede and Ed become one another's safe space: their lighthouse in the dark, if you will.
Then the Season 1 finale ate fans' dreams for (temporary) breakfast. Shattering a happy couple usually means drama for drama's sake; said decisions aren't concerned with character growth or arc resolution. Not only are those the express purposes behind Stede and Ed's split, Our Flag Means Death Season 2 forces us to witness all the bloody misery, psychologically vivisecting both characters. The differences in each man's perspectives have never been more heartbreaking than charming; now it's the reverse. The pure simplicity of Stede's affection is just that: pure. He writes Ed love letters. He dreams about being a traditional pirate who exacts violent revenge before running into Ed's arms along a sunset beach. He's a man reveling in his first love, and he's gloriously smitten while also painfully yearning in his loneliness and regret. Even surrounded by members of his crew, without Ed nearby, Stede's skin doesn't quite fit his exuberant body. It's the same revolutionary gentleness Our Flag Means Death displayed in the crafting of their romance.
Then there's Ed. Even with the series' reliable banter and rom-com undertones still in play, it's difficult to watch his parade of slaughter without flinching. He labels himself the devil and is, at certain times, worthy of the moniker. Ed hasn't merely re-embraced his Blackbeard persona through his homicidal actions, he's spiraled into suicidal self-destruction. There's no goal except torment, no outlet save violence. He sprays innocent blood at weddings. He maims his crew via torture and courts their retaliation. And it heals nothing; he lies despondent on the floor clinging to a wedding token that reminds him of Stede. Ed's brutal unpredictability is both disturbing and heartbreaking, especially since he's relieved when the crew of the Revenge mutinies and nearly kills him. Our Flag Means Death never holds back on where the heartbreak of shattered vulnerability might tip a traumatized murderer, both holding Ed accountable and empathizing. This triplicate of episodes marks the best acting of Taika Waititi's career for balancing all the scripts' demands, especially with their unhurried detail. Everything could have been resolved in the first episode, but that would've betrayed all that Season 1 carefully developed.
‘Our Flag Means Death’s Love Story Has Always Been Vulnerable
Underneath the quirky pirate shenanigans, Our Flag Means Death deconstructs childhood trauma: the ricochet effects on individuals' lives and how courageous and healing it is to give and receive emotional vulnerability. Ed views himself as a monster, and this inherent belief in his unlovable irredeemablity, seemingly confirmed by Stede's abandonment, manifests outward into trying to burn down the world. He and Steed were both lost souls, but Ed's outcast state took the too-relatable form of self-hatred. When he decides to live in Episode 3 after actively imagining all the ways he could die, it's a sentiment in line with Season 1's themes as everything else. The moment's earned, and means something, precisely because Our Flag Means Death took its time getting there.
Meanwhile, Stede the daydreamer is left to reckon with Ed's actions. He tries to reason them away; he's never seen Ed reduced to his darkest base impulses-slash-coping mechanisms, so Stede's beloved is just "blowing off steam," surely. It's Lucius (Nathan Foad), the man who survived Ed's murder attempt, who forces Steed to look directly at "the man he loves" in all his shades: beheadings, arson, senseless parades of violence. (When freaking Izzy Hands wants to protect the crew from further "suffering," you had better start paying attention.) Only acknowledging Ed's better side is the same romanticization Stede applied to the entire idea of gentleman piracy. Much like the audience, Stede now has no choice but to either accept Ed or truly reject him and acknowledge his own unintentional culpability. Then, Stede's the only person who refuses to write Ed off as a lost cause. He's seen the terrified, tender man behind the kraken. And this reckoning wouldn't have happened, or would've occurred under less satisfying and revelatory circumstances, if Stede hadn't dashed back home.
Stede and Ed’s Reunion in ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Season 2 Won’t Be Easy, but It Will Be Worth It
Our Flag Means Death keeping Stede and Ed apart for three episodes of reflection also makes their inevitable reunion more effective. One of the things the series does best stays intact: Jenkins both embraces his rom-com inspirations — Stede leaping into the ocean, professing his love over a dying Ed, and a symbolic rescue involving a merman tail set to a Kate Bush needle drop — and twists them onto their heads. There's no instant catharsis, as Stede finds the Revenge a tomb of hate. But he still saves his crew, and he still saves Ed. This Stede Bonnet is assured and decisive, a far cry from the man we met in the pilot. He knows what he wants, which isn't wasting his wealth on the high seas but being with the man he adores more than any treasure. It's only fitting that their reunion is a melodramatic, silly, and achingly intimate affair on both sides. Neither character would know themselves as well or reached an emotional breaking point to rebuild from without having spent time apart.
Having said that, although Stede and Ed are physically reunited, Season 2 has sat in the horrible aftermath for too long for the emotional reconciliation to be instantaneous. This is Season 1's reverse slow-burn echo. Even if the pair "talk it through as a crew," the raw encounter will likely unfold over time. There's too much behind them to rush into the future. Everything in Our Flag Means Death is building toward an intentional conclusion. Its best strengths, namely building character through pacing, are already soaring as high as a raised ship flag.
New episodes of Our Flag Means Death Season 2 premiere Thursdays on Max.
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erisicy · 7 months ago
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Phantom Blood Musical M32 ("A Story Told Even in the Next Universe" Lyrics Rough Translation)
(TN: To be honest, I'm not exactly sure when this song ends, and the next one begins. This is just based on my personal guess.)
[News Vendor]
Extra! Read all about it!
[Citizens]
In 1888, December 4th, the London Press released an article
[News Vendor]
Yes, there's been a small incident
[Citizens]
Yes, people have gone missing in the small town of Windknight's Lot…
[Man A]
Yes, what a bizarre incident!
[Woman A]
73 people have disappeared…
[Woman B]
They vanished overnight…
[Man B]
You could hear groans from underground
[Man A]
But nobody has been found yet!
[Citizens]
In 1888, December 15th, there was another article about Windknight's Lot…
[News Vendor]
The eyewitnesses speak out!
[Man A]
The day after the incident, at the bottom of the cliff…
[Woman A]
A group of men were burning clothes!
[Citizens]
And then they smashed something with a hammer…
[Woman A & (Citizens)]
Yes, it was a stone mask! (In 1889, February 2nd, according to the social column headline…)
[Citizens]
Liverpool is where the heir to the Joestar family, Jonathan Joestar, got married
His partner is Erina Pendleton, the daughter of the Pendleton family
[Woman B]
A news snippet…
[Man B & (Citizens)]
They'll set off on a steamship the following day for their honeymoon in America! (A news snippet…)
[Speedwagon]
Mr. Joestar! I wish the both of you happiness!
I'll always support you and I'll come running if you need me!
Honeymoon!!
Must be nice, going to America!
I want to go to America and find oil some day…
Damn it!
[Old Speedwagon]
And after this comes that fateful moment…
This story will continue to be passed down until the next universe comes
That's the meddling Speedwagon's life mission…
But right now, I won't be the one who will tell you it
[Erina]
I offer my prayers to this eternal day, among the circling stars…
That my hands will always be in yours…
[Jonathan]
Is something wrong?
[Erina]
I'm happy… that you're here with me
[Jonathan]
I feel the same way. I wish father could have met you
Come on, let's get some food
[Erina]
Jonathan?
[Jonathan]
There's no way…
Erina!
Return to the guest cabin…
And don't forget to lock the door!
[Wang Chan]
I've led him to you…
[Dio]
My body…
…has arrived
[Jonathan]
Dio...
[Dio]
JoJo...
I'm forced to reveal this pitiful state I'm in to you…
Though I once despised you, I now respect you
It's because I realized that…
If God controls fate…
There's never been a relationship as carefully calculated as ours
I was able to obtain these powers thanks to you
It's also because of you… that I haven't obtained everything
[Jonathan]
How far have you…
[Dio]
That's exactly why this is fate!
I will take the body of the only person in this world I respect…
And live a glorious eternity!
JoJo!
In this world… the two of us make one!
[Wang Chan]
Lord Dio! Look! Look! Look! Look straight through him!
[Erina]
Jonathan!!!
[Dio]
From light to darkness, my legend will begin here
Let's end it all and start it anew!
This is Dio's world!
Right, Erina Joestar?!
[Erina]
Dio!!
[Jonathan]
I can't speak or breathe…!!
[Jonathan & (Zombies)]
Breathe! (Wryy! Wryy! Kill them all!)
Erina… you have to—! (Wryy! Wryy! Destroy them all!)
[Wang Chan]
His legend will begin…!
On this ark overflowing with his followers!!
Wryyy!!
[Lisa Lisa's Mother]
Not my child—!!!
[(Passengers)]
(Help me!!) (Run!!) (A fire's going to break out!!)
[Wang Chan]
Should I beat him to death?! Or would you enjoy having him suffocate?!
[Dio]
Wang Chan!
You will cut off his head painlessly!
I will not tolerate any insults towards my friend, Jonathan Joestar!
I will steal your body. Your blood will become my future!
[Jonathan]
That which connects to the future…!
[Jonathan & (Dio + Erina)]
The last of my remaining Hamon!!! (JoJo!!)
[Wang Chan & (Dio + Erina)]
DIE!!! (JoJo!!)
[Jonathan]
Something inside me snapped… something important…
[Erina]
Jonathan!!!
How could this have…
[Jonathan]
Run away…
[Erina]
No, JoJo…
I will stay… until I burn with you
Until everything disappears…
[Choir]
The flames spread
[Jonathan]
Everything is connected…
[Erina]
You want me to live?!
[Jonathan]
Everything has a purpose!
[Jonathan & (Erina)]
It's okay to cry… you will… (This is cruel courage… I will…)
[Jonathan & Erina]
Weave this fate!
[Jonathan & (Choir) & {Dio}]
My mother died like she did… (The flames burn it all away)
(Light and darkness flicker and flash)
Be happy…!! (The flames burn it all away) {I will live on!}
[Dio & (Choir)]
The one who will win in the end, is I, Dio…! (Light and darkness flicker and flash)
My legend begins here, JoJo!!
[Jonathan]
I knew you would…
...come for me before…
...I lost consciousness
[Dio]
JoJo?
Let go of me, JoJo!
He's…
...dead
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fictionalgainer · 1 year ago
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Adam's story part III
Adam's morning began with a battle, not against dragons or deadlines, but against the audacious snugness of his work pants. He wiggled into them, each tug a reminder of his vanished abdominal muscles, now replaced by a soft, jiggly belly that refused to be tamed. His shirt, equally rebellious, seemed to have shrunk overnight, intent on revealing just a hint more skin than workplace appropriate.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered, leaving his apartment with a mix of apprehension and a desperate hope that his clothes would remain intact.
Arriving at the supermarket, Adam took his place behind the cash register, trying to look casual while covertly pulling his shirt down and pants up. His new uniform was a game of wardrobe whack-a-mole he hadn't signed up for.
"Hey, Adam!" called out Jenna, another cashier. "Did you get a new outfit?"
"Yeah, you could say that," Adam replied with a forced grin, his hands stealthily adjusting his traitorous trousers.
As customers lined up, Adam's discomfort grew. Each scan of an item was accompanied by a strategic shuffle to keep his clothes in check. He felt like a contortionist in a circus act he hadn't rehearsed for.
Then came Mrs. Higgins, a regular known for her sharp eyes and sharper tongue. "My, my, Adam, you look... different. Is that the new style?"
Adam chuckled nervously, "Just trying something new, Mrs. Higgins."
She peered over her glasses, "Well, don't try too hard. You're spilling out like a stuffed turkey."
Crimson spread across Adam's face, more effective than any barcode scanner. He finished her transaction with a polite smile and a silent prayer for his shift to end.
The day trudged on with a few more light-hearted jabs from colleagues and customers alike. Each comment was a nudge, reminding him of his changing body.
Lunch break brought a moment of respite. He texted his friend, Mike: "I feel like a stuffed sausage in these clothes."
Mike replied with a laugh, "Just don't pop, man. You're too young to explode. Anyway, up for a drink tonight ? It's on me ! "
Adam replied "Can't refuse such generous offer, see you at the usual place at the usual time !"
Adam couldn't help but smile. Somehow, Mike always knew how to lighten the mood.
Later in the evening, Adam trudged towards the local bar, the promise of a few free drinks from Mike being the only thing lifting his spirits after a day of wardrobe warfare. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of embarrassment he had felt all day.
He found Mike already there, a pint in hand, his usual boisterous self. "Adam, my man!" Mike greeted with a hearty laugh. "Ready to drown your sartorial sorrows?"
Adam managed a smile. "Only if you're ready to fund the expedition."
As they settled into a quiet corner, the conversation naturally drifted to Adam's day and his struggles with his weight. Adam sighed, "I just let myself go, Mike. It's like I'm wearing someone else's body."
Mike nodded, his expression turning serious. "I get it, man. But you're not alone in this." To Adam's surprise, Mike lifted his shirt, revealing a tightly fitted corset underneath. "Look, I've gained 10kg, and you didn't even notice."
Adam's eyes widened. "You're kidding! When did this happen?"
Mike chuckled, "While you were busy battling your pants, I was waging war with this corset."
The revelation that his always fit and confident friend was facing similar issues was a shock to Adam, but not an entirely unpleasant one. "We're in the same boat, then," Mike said with a wink.
Adam didn't feel better about his situation, but Mike had a talent for lightening the mood. He started teasing Adam, mimicking his struggle with his pants in an exaggerated fashion, causing Adam to burst into laughter.
"Yeah, yeah," Adam chuckled, "At least your corset doesn't try to escape every time you bend over."
The night wore on, filled with more laughter and candid conversations about their weight gain. Mike's ability to laugh at himself and encourage Adam to do the same was a refreshing change.
As they left the bar, Adam felt a sense of camaraderie he hadn't expected. Sure, his problems hadn't disappeared, but sharing them with someone who understood made them seem a little less daunting.
"Next time," Adam said as they parted ways, "we're going shopping for some 'expansion-friendly' clothes."
Mike laughed, "And maybe a couple of corsets for good measure!"
If you want to see more stories, head towards my Patreon
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health-supplementproducts · 8 months ago
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6 Bottles Biotox Gold Dietary supplement - weight loss
Shedding Kilos with Biotox Gold: My Positive Experience
Shifting the kilos (losing weight) has always been a bit of a struggle for me. Tried countless fad diets, from the all-fish regime to endless bowls of salad, but nothing seemed to stick long-term. Don't get me wrong, I understand healthy eating, but portion control has never been my strongest suit. Recently, a mate down the pub mentioned Biotox Gold, a new weight loss supplement doing the rounds in 2024. At first, I was sceptical, just another "miracle cure" in a sea of unrealistic promises. But after some research and seeing positive reviews online, I decided to give it a go.
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Boosted Energy and Improved Focus
One of the things that struck me most about Biotox Gold was its focus on detoxification. The website [indicate source, e.g., company brochure] explains how built-up toxins can disrupt metabolism and hinder weight loss efforts. This resonated with me – that sluggish feeling after a heavy meal wasn't exactly uncommon! Biotox Gold boasts a blend of natural ingredients, including antioxidants and green tea extract, known for their detoxifying properties. Within a week or so of taking the daily capsules, I noticed a significant difference. I felt lighter and more energetic throughout the day, that foggy-headed feeling I used to get in the afternoons seemed to vanish. This newfound clarity definitely helped me focus better at work, too.
Feeling Slimmer and More Confident
Now, onto the weight loss itself. Biotox Gold claims to promote a healthy metabolism and curb cravings. While I can't say the pounds melted away overnight, I definitely saw a change within a couple of months. My clothes started fitting a bit looser, and I noticed a reduction in bloating – a persistent problem I'd battled for years. Perhaps due to the improved energy and clearer thinking, I found myself making healthier choices naturally. The constant biscuit cravings subsided, and I felt more in control of my portion sizes. This wasn't just about the numbers on the scale; it was about feeling slimmer and more confident about myself.
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https://www.digistore24.com/redir/351616/Vimal8890/All-Natural Ingredients and Gentle Approach
Another aspect that appealed to me was the all-natural formula. Biotox Gold is free from artificial ingredients and stimulants, which was a big plus for me. Some weight loss supplements can leave you feeling jittery or anxious, but this wasn't the case here. The ingredients list includes things like graviola leaf extract, known for its anti-inflammatory properties, and acai berry, a superfood packed with antioxidants. Overall, it felt like a gentle nudge in the right direction, supporting my body's natural weight management processes.
Worth the Investment? Absolutely!
Look, there's no magic potion for weight loss. It takes dedication and a holistic approach. But for me, Biotox Gold was a game-changer. It addressed the underlying issues that were hindering my progress and provided a gentle nudge towards a healthier lifestyle. While individual results may vary, if you're looking for a natural weight loss supplement that focuses on detoxification, improved energy, and overall well-being, then Biotox Gold is definitely worth considering. It's an investment in your health, and for me, it's paid off in more ways than one.
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healty-product · 8 months ago
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A Luxurious Touch: My Experience with Natural Argan Oil
For years, I've experimented with various skincare products, searching for that one magic bullet to achieve a healthy, radiant glow. However, many products left my skin feeling greasy or irritated. That's when I discovered Natural Argan Oil, and I'm happy to share how this simple yet luxurious oil has transformed my skincare routine.
Pure and Potent for Nourished Skin
Natural Argan Oil appealed to me because it's a single-ingredient product. This oil, extracted from the kernels of the Argan tree, is packed with essential fatty acids, vitamin E, and antioxidants. These elements work together to nourish and protect the skin, promoting a healthy and balanced complexion. The purity and potency of this natural ingredient resonated with me, as I was looking for a simple yet effective solution.
A Multipurpose Marvel for Face, Body, and Hair
One of the things I love most about Natural Argan Oil is its versatility. It goes beyond just facial moisturizer. I use it on my body after showering, and it leaves my skin feeling soft and supple. A few drops applied to the ends of my hair add a touch of shine and help tame frizz. This single product tackles multiple skincare needs, simplifying my routine and saving me shelf space.
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Visible Improvement in Hydration and Texture
Since incorporating Natural Argan Oil into my daily routine, I've noticed a significant improvement in my skin's hydration. That tight, dry feeling, especially during the winter months, has vanished. My skin texture has also become smoother and more even-toned. While I don't expect miracles overnight, the gradual improvements in hydration and texture have left my skin looking and feeling healthy.
A Glowing Boost and a Natural Radiance
Beyond hydration and texture, Natural Argan Oil has also added a subtle yet noticeable glow to my complexion. My skin appears more radiant and healthy-looking. This natural radiance is a welcome change from the dullness I used to experience. I no longer feel the need to rely heavily on foundation to achieve a healthy-looking glow.
Easy to Use and Integrate into Your Routine
Natural Argan Oil comes in a convenient dropper bottle, allowing for easy application. A few drops massaged gently into the skin is all it takes to reap the benefits. The oil absorbs quickly and doesn't leave a greasy residue. This ease of use has made it a seamless addition to my morning and evening skincare routine.
Remember, Patch Testing is Important
It's important to note that I'm not a dermatologist, and this review reflects my personal experience. While argan oil is generally considered safe for most skin types, it's always wise to do a patch test before applying it to your entire face.
A Natural and Luxurious Skincare Staple
Overall, Natural Argan Oil has become a staple in my skincare routine. The pure and potent formula, the noticeable improvements in hydration, texture, and overall radiance, and the ease of use have all contributed to a healthier, more radiant complexion. If you're looking for a natural and luxurious way to elevate your skincare routine, Natural Argan Oil is definitely worth considering. Remember to patch test first, but it could be the key to unlocking the healthy, glowing skin you've always dreamed of.
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d2kvirus · 1 year ago
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11/12/23 Fact of Fiction
Statement #1: Marvel and DC would sell more comics if they used more big name creators on the marquee titles. FICTION - You know how Marvel and DC will sell more comics? Make it so people don't need to take a spreadsheet with them to their comic book store to make sure they're buying the next issue of the title they're reading, not a spinoff, not an offshoot, not a crossover or anything else that gets in the way of the next issue of the title they want to read being on the shelves
Statement #2: The Dark Knight Returns is not only the best Batman book of all time but also the best comic book story ever. FICTION - In terms of Batman, TDKR is certainly up there, but for comics as a whole? Oh boy, I think I just hear the Berserk fanboys mobilising on that one...
Statement #3: On Amazon Prime’s animated Invincible series, it was a good thing to change the main character, Mark Grayson, from a seemingly white character in the comics to Korean American on the show. FACT - Mainly as I haven't seen the usual suspects on Twitter losing their shit about it while trying not to directly quote white supremacist conspiracy theories, so either it's been handled well or their handlers haven't paid attention
Statement #4: In hindsight, Spider-Man: Brand New Day was a pretty good idea. FICTION - The fact I'm a regular at my local comic book shop yet have never heard anyone talking about One New Day is reason enough to believe that, no, it was not a pretty good idea. I haven't even heard anyone kvetching about it, so I'm going to guess that it also wasn't a pretty bad idea, it was just a big blob of greyness that occupies space for a while
Statement #5: Alan Moore deserves the Nobel Prize for Literature. FACT - Not least because, if he did bother to give an acceptance speech, it would be glorious in its curmudgeonly disdain...even if that does run the risk of Zack Snyder fanboys losing their proverbial as Snyder would surely get bodied in it
Statement #6: Tradition aside, digital comics are better than paper comics. FICTION - While my spare room has been a potential fire hazard due to the huge great stacks of back issues piled up in there so I can see the obvious benefit of digital editions - but the point is that if I do some lumbar stretches I can access any back issue of any comic I have in there, and that cannot be guaranteed by digital-only platforms, and then there's the other issue with digital-only platforms which hit ComiXology hard which is if they get bought out as they were when Amazon flashed the cash the platform can change overnight and, potentially, either titles vanish overnight or even the platform itself
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dimonds456 · 1 year ago
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its disability pride month and i'm going through it. vent. check the tags on this one.
sorry there's been so many of these recently, I'm really, really trying not to be this negative, but... man.
something out there wants me dead. bad.
first it was water. then it was depression. then it was anxiety. then it was trauma. then it was graves disease. then it was trauma. then it was adhd. then it was summer in general. then it was maybe autism. then it was trauma. then it was nervous system failure. and now it's an eating disorder.
like not all of those are life-or-death (though adhd can feel like that sometimes lmao) but i've had so many fucking brushes with death that i'm not even afraid of it anymore, i'm just fucking frustrated.
i feel like Mugman from Casino Cups, honestly. "Death is so sudden, it could happen at any moment... everything could end at any moment... and I wouldn't even realize it...
[...]
"I've moved on, I'm not mourning, it's a part of life, but... the unpredictability of it... it's... it's not even SCARY, it's more INFURIATING!! One day, I'll disappear, and... never see where we'll go... never do anything I could have done! I HATE being at its mercy..."
the only difference is that he's died and come back 527 times. i will only die once and then that'll be that.
i've always had a weird fascination with death. maybe it was getting diagnosed with graves disease in middle school that started it (seriously who the FUCK picked "GRAVES" as the name for a disease, did they WANT to freak people out??), maybe it was the realization I'd have it for the rest of my life and now I would have to take pills forever, or maybe it was that first time I almost drowned in elementary school, or the other six times after that. I really don't know.
but i've made it. somehow, some way, i'm still here.
y'know, i wrote an entire ode to death and recorded audio of me reading it. i wanted to put it on youtube but i havent found time to make a video for it. maybe one day. that ode means a lot to me.
i don't know.
the only thing i know is that I want to make the best of the time i've got, which isn't a lot. i don't know how much time i have, but it's less than 20 years i can tell you that right now. if i reach my 40th birthday i will eat both of my shoes AND my hat. i don't mean that in an "i am depressed" way i mean that in a "death and i have a rehearsal at least twice a year and brother i do not know how to dance" way.
i try so, so hard not to be negative online. i really do. i don't want people to remember me as the one who only ever complained, or the one who got angry at everything, or the anxious one who never said anything original or worthwhile, or the one who only ever talked about politics. i want to be a good memory. it's the quote i live by. i want my memory to be a good one.
and i'm failing.
you, right now, reading this. i'm failing you. and i'm sorry. i just... don't know what else to do.
i've realized now that the reason i've been so bent out of shape as of late is because i will never feel safe. even if i moved to the kindest community in the world, even if all the world's political shit got fixed overnight, even if my anxiety and depression suddenly vanished... i can never feel safe because i live in this body. this long-suffering vessel that always, always has something life-threateningly wrong with it.
this eating disorder i have now is only the latest in a long line of shit. each new threat just gets more and more dire. i'm terrified to find out what the next one is. i almost wanna bet money on appendicitis or something but i also don't wanna jinx it, ha.
i'm sorry.
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"Someday we will all just be a memory for some people. I just want that memory to be a good one." - Camila Cuevas (Glitchtale, 2017)
i'll keep trying. i'm going to pass with a smile on my face. that WILL be the last thing i do. i promise.
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ayurvedainitiative-blog · 1 year ago
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Chapter 2 - Honouring The Practise
Day 7
The mind can never go where you are. A wave can never go to the depth of the ocean. By the time the waves go to the depth, it ceases to be a wave. So the mind can never come to you. The mind can never be you. That is why never mind! You are never the mind. It's superficial.
The moment that mind starts coming towards you, it is not a mind. That's why it's said, "Never Mind." You are accepted there, never the mind. Your mind can never go there. You know you have had this experience often.
The mind keeps on asking questions, "Why, why, why, why?" You feel that something is bothering you is your mind's stuff. At that moment there is alertness, and an awareness dawns. And then there is a relief in the mind. And the more you feel that your questions are just "mind's stuff", more and more you are aware and then, the questions just vanish. This is Abhyasa, this is practice.
In the next sutra, Patanjali says,
"The effort to be still and steady comes with practice. At some time you may realize that it is the moment. And then it vanishes. You feel that the moment had come and you lost it. You say, "Now," and then "Now" is lost.
It may not be right to say you have lost it but, in some sense, you feel you are not in the "Now." But, this effort is not just linear - this effort to be steadily established in the "Now" because of it. The "Now" is not linear. The "Now" is very deep and vast. The "Now", the present moment, is not just a point; not just a dot. It is infinity.
It is "Now" in all dimensions and from all sides. Practice gives stability in that moment - that is the purpose of practice. And how can that be arranged? How can that be achieved? Anything of value in life take some time to culture. To master an art - cooking, playing a guitar, sitar, or a flute - takes some time.
You cannot learn to play the flute in a day. It is not possible. To learn to play an instrument takes quite a while, and to master it even more. A coach is needed to teach how to play football. If you want to be a sportsman, you need a coach and you need practice. You need a coach in a gymnasium. You cannot make your body muscular overnight.
It takes quite a long time. The body has its own requirement of time for its growth. Similarly, the mind takes even longer for its growth. It takes some time to memorize something. In the same way, any practice takes some time. It need not be too long but sufficiently long and without interruption.
We usually learn something for a time and then stop. We will start again after some time. If we feel like doing it , we do, and don't do it if we do not want to; when we feel a little lazy. Then, the connection is broken, and what we want doesn't happen. Constant practice without a gap is essential.
If you go to the gymnasium for a couple of days and stop and then go again after some time, you will not achieve anything. You may practice on the piano for two days and lay off for two days and nothing is gained. Lack of consistency prevents you from learning any art.
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