#Edited upon request by MA

[tinkerbelle05]

sanjiiii

How Could You?

Characters: Sanji x Fem!reader

Genre: Angst (Requested) Thanks for the req 🧑‍🍳

Summary: You understand that Sanji is a natural flirt and that’s just how he talks. You are fine with that because that’s his personality but one night he took it too far. You give him the silent treatment as you try to understand your feelings but he keeps pestering you so you snap.

Warnings: Arguments, silent treatments, bad ending, google translations, not edited

Translation: Ma Colombe = My Dove

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You sat in the back of the restaurant, watching Sanji move around the place as a waiter now.

Which meant he probably pissed of Zeff again. The way those two fought and carried on, one would’ve thought they would’ve killed each other by now.

While you felt bad for him because you knew how much he loved cooking and despised waitering, it gave you a good chance to admire him. A chance that often doesn't arise, so of course you didn't waste it.

His beautiful smile, the way he effortlessly slid in between tables, the way he’d make people feel comfortable. In some cases, a bit too comfortable for your liking.

There was this woman, black long hair and sharp green eyes that’s been eyeing Sanji ever since he went to her table. It made you feel a sense of pride that Sanji was so sot after but he’d always return to you at the end of the day.

No matter how much he’d sing their praises, or give out charming smiles. He would also come home to you, and he’d never cross that line.

Until he did. Right in front of you, too.

You were practically seething with anger when you saw how she trailed a finger up his forearm and how he didn’t make a move to stop her. How that same finger traveled up to rest on the back of his neck. They didn’t have to say anything to each other, just the way they looked at each other was enough to have you recoil in absolute disgust and betrayal.

Quickly and quietly you left the restaurant and went to your quarters. It was times like these that made you happy you had a separate bedroom from Sanji. Even though it was mostly used as a storage closet for you stuff, you were still able to sleep and move around comfortablely in it.

Because something told you that you’d be in here for a while after what you just saw.

For sometime, you avoided any and all contact with Sanji. Yes, you knew that it was immature but you didn’t care.

Your heart still hurts when you think about to how he looked at the woman, it was almost lustful. You wondered when was the last time Sanji looked at you like that.

There was a knock on your door, as there always were.

“Darling, please open the door,” Sanji began his daily begging. He’s been at this for a few weeks now.

Everyday after his shift ends, Sanji would rush to your door and begged with everything he had to get you to open the door. To get you to talk to him. There are times when the cracks in his voice makes your resolve falter. Makes you want to open the door and hug him tightly.

But you were still hurting. Still annoyed. Still confused. You had some understanding of how Sanji was. How he’ll use his charm and good lucks to get extra tips, to get people to come back for more. And sometimes, that was just how he was as a person.

So you understood perfectly that most of it was a weird mixture of how he normally acts and was an act in of itself to get more money. You understood perfectly.

Didn’t stop it from hurting though. You felt like someone ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it. You felt like you were being unfair to him. You felt like you were being unfair to yourself. You felt like—

You opened the door. He stood there with his hands in his pockets looking down. Upon hearing the door, he lifted his head.

He’d been crying.

Red, puffy eyes stared back at you. He said nothing, his expression in shock. He quickly sobered up.

“Um,” he scratched the back of his head, “Hello.”

You cleared your throat, “Hi.”

You two stood there at a moment, not saying much of anything. Just staring and waiting. Waiting for someone to say something.

“I’m sorry,” Sanji said suddenly. “I….I’m not sure what I did but—“

“Really?” You gave him an unimpressed look, “You truly don’t know what you did? Why I’m mad at you? You haven’t the slightest clue?”

He swallows nervously and avoids your face. His eyes staring into space, you don’t know what’s going on in his mind. You were about close the door, too tired of this bullshit but he blocks it with his foot.

His hands clenched on the doorframe, he’s leaning towards you, nearly towering over you. Normally, that’ll leave you a blushing mess, and maybe that’s what he’s hoping for, but you just glare up at him. Stepping back a little to create space between you two and he falters.

“Just tell me, already! What did I do? What I have done? Please, ma colombe!” He pressed on.

“How can you not know?! How obtuse do you have to be—", you started to yell but he interrupted you.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake just tell me!” He begged you, his voice cracks. From the way that he's standing, you assumed he'll fall to his knees at any moment.

“You and that woman. The one with black hair, how you were talking to her. Touching her, looking at her. It was…disgusting. You didn’t even have the audacity to be shameful about it.”

He looked confused which quickly transformed into a crude mixture of shock and angry. “Your joking, right? Please, tell me that this is some elaborate prank on me because you can’t seriously be mad at that!”

You glared harder at him, “No! It isn’t a joke. The way you acted hurt me, Sanji. I understand that you act like that, but there are certain lines that you don’t cross.”

“What lines are you—”

“You were about to kiss her! You leaned in and then you stopped yourself. Guess you suddenly remembered you had a girlfriend,” you yelled at him, and the tears were starting to spill again but you had to pull it together.

Sanji stared at you for a while, not saying anything. But the look of realization donned on him and he stepped back.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t think…you saw that,” he fumbled over his words.

You sniffed and looked away from him, you didn't want him to see you crying like this.

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” You questioned him, backing away even more.

He attempt to get closer, you walk backwards until your back is pressed against the wall and you can’t run anymore.

“It didn’t—” he started to say but you stopped him.

“Don’t. Don’t say that you didn’t mean to or that you it was a mistake. I know, I know that you regretted the moment you went close. But….I don’t know. I….I don’t know if I can trust. To not cheat on me. Or have wandering eyes.”

“Ma colombe, I would never. You know all my flirtations are not real. I love you. It’ll always be you, no one else. I swear to you,” he continued to plead with you. He comes closer, until his body pressed against yours and he cups your face so gently. Like your precious jewel to him, he couldn’t afford to break.

But he already broke you.

You looked down instead, you didn’t want to meet his eyes. This was hurting you. This really was. And to say that there was no love between you, would be a lie. But love isn’t enough, not anymore. It can’t fix this. You saw love try to fix your parents’ marriage and that didn’t end well. And you refuse to end up like them.

Your gaze met Sanji’s and you could see the the little hope he had diminished when he saw your expression.

He understood. That is good, it would make this process less painful. He nodded to you and smiled. He kissed you on your lips gently, savoring the taste and feeling one last time. And then he was gone.

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Tags: @abree234, @childofhecate108, @louissolovely, @randomhoex, @marceesworld, @dragonqueenfk, @puff-hugs, @msmisasoup, @localcowboyd, @thatgothic-nerd, @0picels0. @charliepoopyfart, @rotin0, @nikolaevna-art, @cielitoot7, @tayharrper, @simpingmyassoff, @borkbarnes, @villainouspotential, @ramielll, @fuck-you-im-gae, @poketrainer2270, @dazaisfavgf, @hopester08, @don-tuna, @avatarkanemi, @dimplewonie, @fandomsunited, @synchronised-beat

Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info

[yanderes-galore]

I only have two requests, here's the first.

-Fluffy! AU Mangle with a white fox reader.

After Mangle died and was locked in the facility's underground, William and his scientists created another fox to replace them, a 2.0 version, as the first one went terribly wrong. This time, the fox was a success, being adorable, friendly and suitable for children, they were even similar to Mangle in looks, but not identical. However, as we know, everything goes to hell when Golden Freddy frees everyone, including Mangle. The two foxes finally meet and both are shocked to see each other, but for different reasons.

Mangle was confused at first, but soon became marvelled. Reader's beautiful, perfect even! This fox looked a lot like them, but better! They had to keep you. Mangle: "This is how i was supposed to be? Let me take a closer look at you."

While one fox is fascinated, the other is terrified by the situation. What is this thing? Why does it look like them? As Mangle wraps the other in their elongated, rotting arms and lifts them off the ground, the reader can only fear that they will end up like their undead predecessor.

I think the most interesting thing about this concept is how they both reflect each other. Mangle sees the reader as the closest they will ever be from perfection, while the reader sees Mangle as a constant reminder that if they don't escape, they will turn into a horrible monster just like them.

-

Oh boy, Fluffy AU! Also I never got your second request, it looks like it was cut off? So sorry about that :( Here's Mangle!

Edit: Upon writing this... I think I really like the dynamic 1.0 and 2.0 have in a horror aspect. They are reflections of each other... despite what ends up happening.

As per usual, this contains content from the Fluffy AU. Expect graphic content.

Yandere! Fluffy AU! Mangle with Fox! Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Gore, Trauma, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Implied kidnapping/death, Body horror, Gagging/Retching (Vomiting mention), Blood, Forced companionship (?).

Oooo, I like the idea you gave me that there's two levels of the facility.

Take this as your typical Fluffy AU lore dump:

Underground is where failed experiments go in the facility, a smelly area of rot and death.

It's where remnant experiments happen, too.

Other levels above the facility are where completed experiments go, probably separated by era/group.

Mangle was originally supposed to be part of the Toy line as Toy Foxy.

Unfortunately it appears something went wrong with Toy Foxy 1.0.

Some sort of accident caused Toy Foxy 1.0 to become Mangle.

After the death of Toy Foxy 1.0, they were sent to the underground portion of the facility.

Afterwards work on Toy Foxy 2.0 began.

That's where you come in.

This version of the fox was successful compared to their predecessor.

You're a fluffy white fox with pink accents and vibrant yellow eyes.

To top things off you have rosy red cheeks like most of the "Toy" experiments.

You're given the name "Toy Foxy" but are never told that you are 2.0.

There's bound to be some differences between you and 1.0, but for the most part you're nearly identical.

Compared to the previous you developed well.

You're even quite adorable and friendly towards handlers and scientists.

You even get along with the other experiments in your creation set (Toy Freddy, Toy Bonnie, Toy Chica).

Far as everyone knows... you're perfect.

Up until remnant experiments go wrong... and he odd outbreak starts once experiments from below break containment.

Mangle, 1.0, is released from containment and able to flee into the upper floors.

Understandably, you're terrified.

Humans, your creators, are fleeing left and right.

Experiments are getting into altercations... systems are failing...

All the while you're shoving yourself in a corner, tail wrapped around your body as you shiver in fear.

You don't understand what's going on.

It scares you even more when you see the mangled creature that looks...

Oddly like you.

You hold back nausea as it makes eye contact with you, your ears planted flat against your head.

A mangled corpse (?) of many skeletal limbs, flesh, two heads stare at you...

The smell... the blood.

You find yourself on all fours retching.

Meanwhile the other "fox" seems fascinated by you.

Mangle can't stop staring at you.

You're just like them... but finished.

You're perfect... beautiful... it's meant to be.

You two are meant to be with each other!

Together.

You back away when the creature slinks towards you, maimed head(s) looking you over.

They touch your fur, they smell your scent, all the while you feel blood staining your originally clean white fur.

"You and me... we're the same!" Their voice is a croak, your wide eyes never leave their roaming body. "I was meant to be you! But you came out fine... I'm almost envious, you're quite the treasure!"

You don't like how close this thing is.

It's not you.

You hate it when they sniff you... all you can smell is the rot and blood.

You can feel them nuzzle their snout into you.

You feel nauseous again.

You try to crawl away but feel the limbs wrap around you.

You feel bones circle you... you feel them squeeze... you feel them stain you in gore.

"Where are you going?" The monster asks, pulling you in closer.

You struggle more in their hold, claws out and scrambling.

"I can't let such perfection go to waste, can I?" The monster coos. "We'll need each other... you can't just abandon me... we're one and the same!"

"Let me go!" You plead.

"Oh, we even sound similar too. I'd be a fool to let you leave me...." The creature hisses before you feel yourself being pulled deeper into the facility.

Mangle adores you just like you said.

They think you are what they could be, perfected in every way.

As a result they want to keep you to themselves... they want you close to them...

As they feel whole with you.

Meanwhile, to you, they are indeed a reminder of what could happen if you stay here.

Awhile back an Anon brought up the idea of Mangle attaching to others like some sort of hosts.

So yes... perhaps if you stay here you will become a monster.

They'll make you and them whole...

Together you will be perfect.

[rosyzhaorph]

In the source link, you’ll find 245 HQ textless all under 5MB 268x151 gifs of Yu Shu Xin/Esther Yu as Chu Li in 1x02 of Moonlight. These gifs were ALL made by me. I don’t mind if you use them in crackships or edit them into icons as long as you credit/tag me. But DO NOT put these into other gif hunts or repost them into gif sets! DO NOT use my gifs to roleplay characters that are minors or in smut threads. DO NOT use my gifs to roleplay real life people/celebrities, or in any taboo situations! If any clarification is needed, please feel free to ask! Please like or reblog if you find this helpful and don’t claim them as your own! If you’re a fan of my work and have a few dollars to spare, please consider buying me a coffee! (paypal available upon request) Credits: PSDs: @gifpackisms & myself TASKS WEEKLY: #040 - Chinese ETHNICITY: Han Chinese, please cast her accordingly! TRIGGER WARNINGS: Flashing gifs, getting hurt. FEATURING: Ding Yuxi, Ma Yin Yin, Zhou Pu, He Xin Lin Tag List: @mvthr @supportcontentcreators @tasksweekly @asiangifpacks @dear-indies

[hufflepuffwriter1995]

The Witches Vow

  Summary: I had never believed I would own a hybrid, but when I found an old friend I had long since believed to have lost, I couldn’t help myself. But my friend only has one request, save the six others he is locked up with and I never have been able to say no to him. 

  Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x Fem!WitchReader 

  Themes: Found Family, Poly Relationship, Hurt and Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Hybrid AU, Fantasy, Supernatural, Magic 

  Warnings: Hurt, Angst, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Injury and Hurt, Witchcraft and magic, hybrids being pets, eventual smut, brief mentions of murder. This has only been edited with the free version of Grammarly, so please be kind

  Rating: 18+ 

  Characters: 

Jin: Amur Leopard 

Yoongi: Black Tiger 

Hoseok: Lynx 

Namjoon: Artic Wolf 

Jimin: Arctic Fox 

Taehyung: Snow Leopard 

Jungkook: Red Fox 

Ryoko: Reader 

Notes: This was previously uploaded under the title "Finding the Pack" But upon re-reading it I decided I wanted to expand the fic a bit more, and felt the name didn't match the vibe I was going for. So it is now being re-uploaded as "The Witches Vow". Please do not steal my work.

  Chapter One

“You have a tail!” I turned, understanding washing over me as I spied my two-year-old self, sitting with a two-year-old young boy. At two Taeyhung was all energy, his white fluffy ears pinned towards me as his tail slowly slid behind his back. “That's so cool!” I gushed in two-year-old wonder. Taehyung instantly relaxed, a bright, boxy smile spreading across his little face. 

  “We are best friends now!” Taehyung announced all authority in his voice. Across the yard, our mothers chuckled, a fond look on both of their faces. The scene changes then, going black until I can spot myself and Taehyung again. This time we are older, about five and sitting in the tree house my father had built us after we began reading the Magic Tree House books and begged for weeks to get. While I didn’t need to, I had all these memories memorized I could recite them perfectly, I moved towards the sounds of childish giggles. 

   “Do it again!” Tae begged, eyes lighting up as I once again made the flower in my hand open and close. That had been the start of magic coming in and we had both been amazed by it. Naturally, I showed him first, I had shown him everything first back then. We were basically joined at the hip, the closest of friends. “It's so cool you can do magic!” He sighs wistfully. “All I can do is turn into a kitten!” 

  “But a cute kitten!” I giggle, my words causing Taehyung to flush a deep shade of crimson before swearing he wasn’t cute. The scene changed again, shifting this time to a cemetery. I stood dressed in black, my little hand tightly gripping Taehyung’s. We were seven and both watched as they lowered his mother’s casket into the ground. She had been murdered, but of course, at seven we hadn’t been given that information, we had only been told she had died suddenly.

  For the first time, I tore my gaze from my younger self and the boy that haunted my dreams and turned them to his father. He was wracked with guilt enough that it overlapped his grief. No tears were shed, and at the time I told my little self it was because Taehyung needed him. Now I knew the truth, knew what the man had done and felt the anger rising inside of me. 

   “Promise me you won’t leave me too,” Taehyung whispered, his voice drawing my attention back. Even now his words broke me, the pain lacing each word. 

   “I promise Tae.” And, at seven, I had meant that promise, meant it like the vow I would later make. As the scene changed again, I felt myself tensing, preparing myself for what I knew was coming. 

   “LET HIM GO!” I screamed, racing down the steps of my house, my father cursing out behind me. It was the day after the funeral and I was still in my Lilo and Stitch pajamas. But that didn’t stop me from racing towards the man carrying screaming Taehyung. As I reached him, the man kicked me, my gasp of pain and fear loud to my ears. 

  “Don’t you dare touch my daughter!” My mother screamed, her voice laced with anger as she slipped into her mama bear mode. But I paid it no mind, despite the pain racing up my ribs I jumped forward and grasped Taehyung’s hand, as if I had a prayer of pulling him free. 

  “Help! Help me!” Taehyung begged, tears staining his cheeks. 

  “Daddy do something! Curse him, mama!” I screamed, crying out in pain as the pain kicked me once again. This time, before I could lunge, my father had me in his arms. 

  “We can’t petal, that man owns Taehyung now.” His words, even then, didn’t make sense to me. How could someone own another person? Seeing the fear in Taehyung’s eyes, understanding I was powerless, I did the one thing I could at that moment. 

  “Taehyung, I make you a witches vow!” I screamed, ignoring my mother's gasp and her cries for me to stop. “I vow to find you Taehyung and I may never again live in peace until I do!” I didn’t know it then, but those words would haunt me. Not because I regretted making them, but because they would leave me with visions of the boy I had loved. 

   This time, as the scene changed, I knew it wouldn’t be good. The visions always started the same, showing me my past before showing me Taehyung’s present. Sure enough, as the scene settled I found myself in a barn I had grown to familiar with, despite never going there myself. The sounds of pained breathing filled my ears, along with the stench of young men chained together. Moving slowly, I made my way to the wall that held Taehyung and the others. Though I never did pay them much mind, my gaze was always focused on the snow leopard. 

  “Oh, Tae,” I whispered, kneeling as I studied him. He was skinny and hurt, a scratch on his head that was now caked with dried blood. I took a little comfort in knowing it still wasn’t bleeding, but it didn’t provide me with much. “I am still looking!” I had wanted to say more but movement caught my eye and I turned to find the ghost of a girl, she was around my age and from the look of her floppy red ears had been a fox hybrid in life. 

  “You can see me?” 

  “I can see the dead, but I wasn’t aware you could see me,” I replied, shock lacing my voice. The girl turned to Tae, who slowly lifted his head. 

  “You must go, he’s coming and I promise, you won’t want to see this but I will find you.” The ghost vowed and just that, as it always did, I was jolted back into my own present. 

   I let out a gasp I sat up in bed, my left hand flying to cover the “T” tattooed on my skin. The small letter had appeared after I made the vow, another reminder one was made as if I needed one. Taehyung, was never far from my mind, no matter what I found myself doing in life. One second of quiet was enough for me to draw up the latest vision, replaying it in my mind as if I could suddenly find a clue as to where he was being kept. In the years since that day, I never stopped searching. As I child I went to every police station I could, begging them to find my kidnapped friend. Some were kind, telling me softly that they could tell I was scared, but in the eyes of the law, Taehyung hadn’t been kidnapped, only sold. Others had only sighed, shoving away the photo the second they saw his fluffy white and black ears and told me to grow up and accept reality. 

  When I found no help there, I turned to my craft, attempting to scry for his location only to fail every time. I needed a piece of him for the magic to focus on, to feel and track and his father had never let me inside. The guilt and shame of what he had done had caused him to lock himself in his house and become a recluse. Not that I blamed him. He had gambled himself into debt with the wrong people and when they couldn’t get their money they killed his wife and took Taehyung to cover the payments. They didn’t care about the young boy they were stealing, only wanted to make him pay for a payment that was never his. 

   My parents had banned me from going over when they found out I was screaming the details of my visions through the door, determined to make him face the reality of the life he had forced his son into. Dad said he was suffering enough and Mama just claimed Taehyung’s fate wasn’t my story to share. She was right of course, she always was, but that didn’t stop me from wanting him to grasp the severity of what he had done, what his actions were doing to his son. A part of me, I suppose, also wanted him to feel the same pain I felt when I had to see him chained and beaten, to know I had failed him yet again. 

   Shaking my head, I thought about the latest vision, my attention for once turning to the ghost. Never once had I been seen in them, I had always been a spectator to whatever Taehyung was facing in those brief moments the magic pulled me towards him.  The fact that I was seen, even by a ghost, caused a flicker of hope to spread across my chest. Maybe she would keep her word, maybe she would find me or perhaps in the next vision she could tell me a location. 

  With more hope than I have had in years, I threw back the thick warm covers of my bed and climbed out of it, smiling as I heard the telltale signs of my cousin Aera bustling around the kitchen. Aera and I had gotten close after Taehyung had been kidnapped, as she was the one willing to help me find him at all costs. She had spent countless hours with me handing out flyers, begging anyone if they had seen him. It was through this that we met our friends Izzadora and Electra, the twins who were all too happy to grab some flyers and go out and do their own hunting. With them, they brought Jessamine, Luna and Kiko, and our search team of two grew into a search team of seven.

    I longed to tell Taehyung that he had a whole team of people searching for him, determined to bring him somewhere safe, but I knew he couldn’t hear me. The hours I had spent screaming at him when he was in his human form, begging him to just say anything, proved that. Shaking my head, pushing away those painful memories as I made my way downstairs. 

  While old, the house was the thing I was most proud of. After my grandparents passed, they left me with the house, or rather a small mansion to be fair. It had ten rooms, five bathrooms and a complete basement. I had also turned the attic into a small library and reading nook. Thankfully, the sales of my book series kept me afloat, allowing me to finish renovations while also putting a large sum aside for my savings. I had kept it to the original structure, doing my best to update it while also keeping that old-fashioned charm that I loved so much about it. 

   As I walked into the kitchen, I wasn’t at all surprised to find Aera staring at the coffee machine, watching as it slowly brewed with her head lying on her arms that were folded on the counter. Her black hair was pulled back into a braid, and her crimson eyes reflected in the coffee pot. Her eyes were always my favourite part about my cousin, they always reminded me of living flames, a sted fast reminder of the power brewing beneath her skin. As a fire fae, she was all flames and hot-headedness, which is why my uncles hadn’t waited to adopt her. They knew she would fit in well with their sass and man had she lived up to that. 

  “Another vision?” She said in a way of greeting, crimson eyes meeting mine for only a moment before looking back at the coffee. 

  “Yes, but I was seen this time, by a ghost.” My words caused her to let out a surprise yelp, standing up straight as she spun around to face me. 

  “You were what?” 

  “Seen, by a ghost, a fox hybrid judging by her ears,” I explained, as I grabbed out the stuff for breakfast. Aera may be able to strive on coffee alone, but I needed food to help me along. “She promised to find me.”

  “Why aren’t you more excited? Jesus this is wonderful news! We may actually find him now.” As she spoke, she settled back down in front of the coffee maker, the little bit of energy my news had spurred dying out. Aera never had been a morning person, her energy usually coming either after ten am or that first cup of coffee. 

  “I am hopeful, more so than I have been in the past but what if she can’t me?” Now that I was more awake, the doubts were starting to creep in, the fear that I had been so desperate to find him that I made up a ghost to help me. 

  “You know how your magic works, even in a vision once a spirit feels your magic they can track you. Lord knows I have seen you deal with enough clingy spirits to know damn well, even a brief encounter can draw them to you and before you say anything, if she could SEE you, she could feel your magic.” 

   I bite my lip, so desperately wanting to believe her but I was also getting scared, the fear eating at what little hope I once had. Sensing my doubt, Aera reached out and threw a small ball of fire at me, the ball just warm enough to shock me but not cause any harm. Scowling, I tossed a grape at her, earning a chuckle from her. 

  “Get out that head of yours.” She said softly, her gaze flickering to me as I let out a tiny gasp. “Hello dead person, my name is Aera. I can’t see you please bear that in mind for the duration of your stay.” I rolled my eyes at her, shaking my head as I looked at the ghost from my vision.

   “She seems fun.” The girl mused, eyeing Aera with a grin that caused my cousin to shiver under her gaze. “But I told you I would find you! It didn’t take me very long, your magic leaves a strong essence behind. They all felt, the boys I mean, but they didn’t see you. He vailed you from them. He brought in a witch once you made that vow. I remember I was there. He was so angry that he wasn’t told Taehyung was bound to a powerful young witch.” 

  “I imagine his father didn’t have time to tell him, seeing how Tae was taken.” I mused as Aera passed me a cup of coffee. Far too used to my conversations with the dead, she sat beside me, nodding as I quickly filled her in on what was said. 

  “I had told you that you were a powerful witch, stronger than anyone else in the family to be sure.” Aera said with a shit-eating grin that I knew was her version of an “I told you so.” 

  “Yeah, I like her! Anyways, if you want, I can take you to him. You can’t find him on your own, he cloaked your magic specifically but as a guide you wouldn’t really need magic.”

  “You would help us?” 

  “Of course, I want him to pay, and judging from the power I can sense off of you both, you wouldn’t hesitate to make him pay.”

  “Oh, I plan on burning everything down to the ground once we get there,” Aera said after I filled her in. “If he didn’t want to burn alive, he shouldn’t have pissed me off.” 

  “Take us, today, no more waiting.” 

  “Oh good, because he sold them. They will be moved tomorrow and then I can’t help you.” At her words, I jumped up, grabbed my keys and yelled at Aera to throw her coffee into a to-go cup. 

  “What a wonderful way to start the day, murder and a rescue!” I didn’t need to look behind me to know there was a wild gleam in her eyes. 

   It took four hours to get to the farm where Taehyung was held, four hours of my anxiety skyrocketing to the point I felt like I couldn’t breathe. What if Taehyung had forgotten about me? What if he hated me for taking so long to make good on my vow? All those thoughts kept jumping through my mind as Aera drove, taking turns as I told her, our ghostly guide seated between us. In the four hours of driving, I learned her name was Sana. She was the first Jeehung had collected through his debts. She told me all about how he only targeted those with hybrids, wanting to get his hands on them while also making their owners lose everything else in the process. It was fun for him, the pain he caused. 

  Jeehung was the only one working there, but lately, he had gotten too old to keep all his hybrids in line, seven I had learned. One of them, a tiger, had caused some serious injury the last time he attacked the hybrids. He had decided then they had to be sold. Sana had been killed that day, murdered as she tried to escape to get them all help. The boys had wanted her to run, to get her away from the horrors and took her murder hard. 

  We drove in silence up the long, gravel drive, the van bumping as we drove over potholes. The closer we got, the brighter the T on my wrist seemed to glow, and I knew Sana was right. Taehyung was close, so close I swore I could feel him. As we came to the stop, Aera and I glanced at each other before throwing the doors open. We had only taken a step when a man, the same man I had seen all those years ago, came barreling from the run-down house. 

  “You little fucking bitch!” He snarled as he stared at me, recognition filling his gaze. “I should have killed that stupid leopard.” 

  “Where is he?” I demanded, smirking as I raised a hand and vines sprang up around his feet, winding themselves around his legs. “I will only ask once.”

   “Why you can’t touch him? He’s being sold tomorrow and until then he is my property.” 

  “Actually I can, if I can prove that you have harmed or abused them in any way, or even murdered a hybrid, I can legally take over their guardianship.” His face paled at the word murdered, his gaze flickering between Aera and me, no doubt trying to figure out how we knew. “I can see her, you know. So while I don’t need you to tell me where it would help you in the long run.” 

  “Stupid little witch bitch.” He snarled, pulling a gun. Before he could aim it though, the gun was in flames, burning him enough that he dropped it with a yelp. 

  “Go, get Taehyung, I will handle this one,” Aera whispered, the flames in her hands turning a bright, silvery blue. I nodded, taking off after Sana as she led the way. 

  “TAEHYUNG I AM COMING FOR YOU!”

Taehyung P.O.V 

 Taehyung had long since stopped hoping for Ryoko to remember him. He had known, even at the age of seven, that she was destined to be a powerful witch. Even at the age of two, the buzz of the promise of her magic washed over him, a silent promise. She surely had more important things to do than worry about a boy she had met and lost in her childhood. Even if the little “R” on the inside of his wrist stood as a reminder of the desperate vow she had made that last day he had seen her. 

   There had been times though, the briefest of moments, when he swore he could feel that familiar buzz of her magic. Hell, he had even sworn at times he could hear her voice, hear the desperation in her voice as she begged him to tell him where he was. Those little moments he chopped up to that part of him that refused to give up hope, that refused to believe she would forget about him. For so long she had been his safe place, her memories the only thing that could get him through most of the abuse he faced. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back down onto the worn wood of the barn and tried to ignore that part of him that had summoned her voice. 

   “Taehyung, if you don’t answer her she is going to get us killed.” Yoongi’s snarl broke through the silence, his words causing Taehyung to let out a desperate gasp. 

   “She’s here!”

[starqueensthings]

Summary: June and Challa venture to the combat base for their first lecture. A pretty low-key chapter if I’m being honest, so I kept it pretty short (“short” used lightly lol) There’s a surprise, albeit brief, inclusion of one of our faves toward the end.

Rating/WC: all chapters are 16+ for subject matter unless otherwise noted | 3400ish words.

WARNINGS: none really… ellusions to past trauma but even that’s a stretch.

A/N: many of the named Clones in this chapter were borrowed from friends. Pals— thank you for letting me include your blorbos! “Friendly” is the creation of @multi-fan-dom-madness, “Siren” is the creation of @523rdrebel, and “Stretcher” is the creation of @a-single-tulip.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED ABOVE FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

FOREWORD | MASTER | PREV | NEXT | AO3

The following fortnight turned out to be reasonably uneventful… at least, as uneventful as one could wish for that ever-chaotic ward, and the return to that sense of frenzied normalcy was wholly embraced by the tired 23 year old who’d near-instantly regretted the covenant made with her boss, yet the addition of a salient spring in every step he took as he wove around that hyperactive department quickly affirmed he shared in none of her rue.

Hardly two rotations after recruiting her assistance, Challa had bounced into her office with an unnerving grin contorting his typically prosaic features, his hands rubbing together amid a gesture of unadulterated glee of which he hadn’t exuded in some time. Upon the realization that his sauntering gait wouldn’t be immediately followed by his notorious squeaky-chair vituperations, Jacoba had offered her boss an insouciant “good morning”, casting her best friend a knowing glance before returning her attention to the medical chart in front of her.

Despite having largely expected his visitation to their office in those succeeding days, the unrestrained joy beneath that impish smile had June damn-near frightened, and she hastened to nudge her rolling chair away from the desk as he threw himself into the seat opposite her with a euphoric sigh.

“Y’alright?” she’d asked him cautiously.

“Contract’s done,” he had answered whilst tossing a wad of white flimsi onto her desk, that cog embossment on the front page identical to the one that had adorned the previous edition.

But the uncharacteristic nature of that soft-eyed, toothy grin had rendered June near-paralyzed in her seat, blue eyes darting toward her companion at the neighbouring desk for any semblance of support or assistance, though Jacoba’s unprovoked postural shift in toward the other direction immediately laid bare that she was doing everything in her power to choke back the laughter rumbling in her chest.

Momentarily oblivious to the nonverbal communication of which the girls had mastered amid their decade together, Challa had continued to watch June with a degree of a pressing expectation, and he’d permitted only a handful of seconds to pass in her failure to retrieve it before simply nudging it further toward her.

“Go on!” he’d requested, rapping his knuckles atop the cover page. “Give it a look. The degree of your inclusion is elaborated on pages 64 to 89. And I think you’ll be quite pleased with the generous salary increase the President has allotted you on page 137–”

“Salary increase?!” Jacoba repeated, amusement melting from her features as she turned an aghast face toward them. “You gave the job to the girl who’s saved every credit she’s ever earned, while I’m over here trying to plan the most expensive wedding of the last century?!”

“Oh give it a rest, Bridezilla,” June snorted, collecting the contract from the desk and flicking thoughtlessly through its copious pages. “Your fiancé is the most sought after mechanic on Coruscant, and you’re a doctor— neither of you are hurting for credits. Besides, we both know that ridiculous red gown you’re making me buy for said wedding is going to completely empty my bank accou—”

“It’s not ‘ridiculous’! And red is your colour. You should be grateful I’m not putting your pasty white ass into Alda’s powder blue gown—”

“Hey, leave my pale ass out of this! It’s barely spring! Everyone is still pasty!”

”I’m not.”

“Yeah, well not all of us were lucky enough to be graced with the gift of melanin. Quit rubbing it in befo—”

“We have a meeting,” Challa interjected, smile slipping from his lips as that characteristic impatience reemerged in the wake of their incessant antics. “The civilian relations officer on base is giving us a tour at 1600 today. Meet me in my office at quarter-to and we’ll head over together.”

“I can’t,” June told him, tossing the contract unceremoniously to the side of her desk and stretching her arms above her head. “I have a bilateral clavicular fracture on the books for 1530 and the damn soldier is a red head, so I had to schedule an anesthesiologist to scrub in and monitor sedation.”

“Unfortunate.” With that ebullient elation now stripped of his lips, he stood and offered nothing more than a disappointed grimace before heading for the door. “No matter— I’ll brief you when I return.”

True to his word, Challa had appeared in Operating Room 4 some hours later, the urgency to enlighten her with a detailed recollection of that missed appointment were utterly apparent by the way his surgical loupes fogged amid every panting breath as he settled himself into place across the operating table between them. Though none of his previously-exuded determination had diminished since visiting the premises of their new tertiary home, much of the exuberance he’d previously failed to regulate had been supplanted by the reality of their shrinking timeline; he now spoke of little else outside of lesson planning, curriculum requirements, and examination frequencies with a tense frown top those once beaming lips.

The subsequent week and a half saw June’s nerves reach a peak of which she hadn’t suffered since her own foray into medical school. Assimilating as much of Challa’s OR schedule into her own had initially promised to both further distract her from the weight of her impulsive promise, and help lessen the burden his proliferating task load, but the near-instant inundation of responsibility had quickly rendered her more overstimulated than she could ever remember. Every rotation blurred into the next… and the next… and the next. The sun’s recurrent slumber below the horizon could no longer be relied upon as a gauge to differentiate one day from the next, as catching even a glimmer of that underappreciated daylight was proven impossible due to the gross extension of her schedule. And this menial, yet, pernicious deprivation only intensified during those dreaded 24-hour shifts of which the label of “on-call trauma” saw surgeons near-stripped of their human rights; ten minutes of respite in a dark, solitary call-room became little more than a privilege, particularly so when the clanging trauma alarm, alerting the ward of imminent intakes, refused to settle for hours on end; meals consisting of little more than a hurried handful of whatever food one could pull from that staff-room fridge, ahead of the equally exhausted nurse cornering them with the redundant reminder of a limitless list of patients waiting for attention.

But June was no stranger to deprivation. The nature of her childhood on a secluded planet had long imbued her with the ability to make-do with only what she had; a cup or two of caf could wake her enough to see a procedure to completion in the absence of true rest, a granola bar shoved quickly into her mouth and mashed urgently between molars would suffice in the void of a real meal; kriff, she had a chrono on the desk and a watch on her wrist to remind her the day and time if she ever sought it. What grated on her most intensely as their deadline drew nearer and nearer was Challa’s new-found urge to prattle… his seemingly uncontrollable need for consultation.

Accustomed to the premise of being entirely left to her own devices, her boss’s incessant need to hover at her elbow and chatter in her ear raised June’s ire near-instantly upon seeing that pointed face appear in the surgical gowning room. Despite her intact willingness to support him in this endeavor by whatever means she could, repeated instances of his unwanted company had her near-convinced that nothing short of cutting her own ears off and trapping them into the Cleanser Tube could promise a reprieve from his relentless badgering.

“I mean this with the utmost respect, Challa,” she’d warned one night as her boss had, once again, invited himself to scrub into a surgery she’d shifted out of his schedule and into hers, “But I am down here freezing my tushy off so that you don't need to be. Get out of my OR before I take this Sigmoid tube and jam it up yo—”

“Alright, alright!”

***

The Primeday morning of their first lecture began relatively smoothly. As previously agreed, June met Challa in his office right around the time that the Coruscanti sun’s rays teased their resplendent glow below the horizon… or, “the crack of stupid” as June had aptly named those harrowing hours between caf #1 and caf #2. After countless minutes of watching him pat every pocket in his labcoat several times over whilst reciting his mental list of crucial items to bring, he slung his bag over his shoulder and the duo clambered into Challa’s air speeder for the ride across town.

Despite having lived on Coruscant for nearly a decade, June had never ventured quite as far east as where the GAR’s headquarters sat tucked securely along the perimeter of the Parliamental sector. Its separation from the regality of the senate building and the relentless bustle of the hospital ensured its private nestle saw very little action in terms of residency and foot traffic; most of the industrial buildings gridlocked below that traffic-laden skyway were anchored by tall, smoking chimneys, each emitting endless puffs of dark emissions into the air above. Workers in fluorescent vests, while reduced in scale to nothing more than microscopic amid those colossal buildings, could be seen atop almost every roof, shifting construction vehicles from one place to the next, or collaborating to load heavy pieces of steel onto the cargo bed of an impossibly large transport speeder.

No sooner had the oversized chimneys of their menacing destination come into focus amid the burgeoning daylight, did a venator-class star destroyer descend through the blanket of cloud above them. Though it remained at an altitude of which an uncovered air speeder like theirs could never safely venture, Challa hurried to press the brake, both of their mouths falling open as the sheer majesty of that renowned engineering commandeered their attention. June knotted her arms atop her chest, a growl of frustration escaping her lips as Challa simply refused to accede her perfervid plea to watch that gargantuan vehicle lower itself into the shipyard only blocks away.

The imminent arrival to their destination threw into sharp relief the fragmented nature of that formidable building, and the sheer degree of construction of which that property remained afflicted was nearly as astonishing as the unexpected appearance of that starship. The west quadrant of the expansive compound seemed near-entirely gated off, its interior activities blocked from prying eyes by a series of purple tarps so monstrous in size that any one of them held the potential to swaddle June’s entire apartment several times over. Towering fences nearly two stories high encircled much of the south entrance immediately adjacent, and the indignance still lingering in her chest at Challa’s refusal to let her witness that aeronautical marvel in action was quickly supplanted by the increasingly realistic concern of not being able to find their way into this already high-security establishment.

“Seems as if the construction of this base wasn’t the senate’s top priority…” Challa’s mused.

Security troopers in armour of white and royal purple flanked every access point the duo came across, gloved hands draped in tandem around lethal-looking rifles, both their motives and their eyes hidden behind visors of complete opacity. As time vanished beneath them, and the probability of merely happening across some semblance of a visitor’s entrance diminished with that dwindling darkness, Challa slowed to a stop beside a pair of troopers and near-begged them for directions. After acceding the request of providing their clearance documents, the nearest trooper directed them to the staff speeder lot immediately abutting the construction zone they’d blindly circled thrice whilst attempting to find a way in.

Housing what appeared to be several dozen air speeders, each of which adorned an oversized republic cog emblem on their metallic purple hoods, that staff parking area seemed otherwise void of life, and the pair was able to dash across that gravel lot and scan their way into the door with barely a trio of minutes to spare before class was due to start.

“We can bypass the administration office,” Challa advised her breathlessly, near-jogging through that dark, industrial hall whilst June attempted to keep up. “Eagle advised me everything we’d need is in this envelope.”

His frantic cadence refused to lessen as he reached blindly into the depths of the messenger bag draped atop his shoulder and retrieved a large manila envelope. Unable to tear her eyes away from the foreign novelty of each passing doorway, Challa's elbow landed like a baseball bat against her chest, though he offered nothing but a, “pay attention, we’re short on time!” as she rebuked his negligent gesture.

“Who’s Eagle?” she asked him, rubbing that aching mark below her collarbone before extracting a small wad of flimsi and quickly thumbing through its assorted content.

“The civilian relations officer I met with a couple weeks ago,” Challa mumbled, lips barely meeting in his haste to answer as his brows furrowed in immutable concentration.

Attempting to ignore her frazzled companion currently counting the doorways as they continued down that daunting hall, June turned her attention to the bundle in her hand. The first page brought a glimmer of relief to June’s simmering anxiety; a detailed map of the entire combat base laid bare exactly why they’d struggled to find their way into that fortified compound, and she immediately moved to fold that holy document and stuff it into the pocket of her scrub pants.

“11th door on the right…” Challa continued under his breath. “That one be six— no, seven if you count the elevator, so eight… nine… ten… turn here, June. And then we’re the last room on the left before the stairwell.”

Challa granted himself only a moment to dwell in the liberation of finding the door to their allotted home before quickly tapping his ID card on the control panel and hurtling over the threshold. But the sudden activation of the overhead lights robbed June of what should have been that shared success… that relief. Countless fluorescent bulbs overhead had instantly exposed a significantly larger classroom than she’d anticipated, and the grandiosity of that room was instantly plagued with the harrowing potential of how crowded that space may soon be.

The steps she took in Challa’s path reflected none of his alacrity, her eyes cautiously observing every distant corner of that amphitheater style room as Challa hurried across the small stage at the front and began to unload the contents of his bag onto the teacher’s desk in the corner. A shiver rolled down her spine as her eyes found a small podium at center stage, a perfectly placed recipient of the countless sets of eyes soon to trickle through the doorway and perch themselves into the hundred or so seats lined up behind those curved desks. She swallowed and dropped her gaze to her toes, refusing to give the enormous projector screen on the left even a glance as she crossed that platform in her boss’s wake and tossed her bag to the floor beside his.

“Not quite as spacious as I’d expected,” Challa chided amid another sigh, perching his hands on his hips as his violet eyes peered somewhat reprovingly around the room. “Eagle showed me only the doorway during our tour. I do hope there’s a seat for everyone.”

“A seat for—” June started, mouth falling open at the distressing implications of his complaint. “Challa, how many troopers are enrolled?”

“Didn’t you look at the attendance list?” he asked her with raised brows. “It was in that envelope I just gave you… a hundred clones this round. Maybe more in the next.”

“A hundred? The next?! You never said—”

Their heads spun simultaneously back toward that open door as chorus of raucous chatter erupted down the hall and echoed around the corners of their classroom, and it was barely seconds before the familiar face of a clone soldier appeared on the other side of that threshold, the boyish indifference fueling that zealous laughter vanishing instantly upon meeting the eyes of his new, civilian teachers.

Challa leapt into action, wrenching his hands from his hips and snatching the datapad off the desk top with a renewed sense of urgency. “Can you take attendance at the door while I set up the projector?” he hissed at her, failing to wait for her assent before his slender legs had him trotting to the podium and hurriedly plugging in his tablet.

The throng of broad-shouldered soldiers waiting beyond that threshold, each adorning a particularly itchy-looking blue uniform of which June had never seen the likes of, continued to rapidly enlarge with every uneasy breath that left her lips. With each new unblemished face attempting to peer into that mysterious room over the shoulder of the trooper in front of them, the opportunity to negotiate Challa’s delegation of tasks faded, and June begrudgingly reached to rifle through the myriad of papers she’d recently pulled from that envelope.

“Wait, what did you just say? There’s a girl?”

“A girl and a Twi’lek!”

“A girl?!”

“Yes, you di’kut. Do you need to hear it a third time?”

“Just move over and let me see!”

“Would you chill? You can both see her in four seconds when we get through the do—”

“Coming from someone that can already see her. Just shimmy over a little bit.”

“Here, just take my spot. I prefer blondes anyways.”

“Pfft— how would you know? You’ve never even met a blonde, you prat.”

‘You’re fine,’ she reminded herself amid a slow and controlled exhale, those poorly hushed comments triggering a renewed sense of discomfort and regret for freely consenting to partake in this mission of education. Yet refocusing her attention to locating that attendance list achieved nothing except luring a snort of derision from her nose, as it turned out to be nothing but a harrowingly long and unorganized spreadsheet of CT designation numbers, and as she stood and clamped that neglectful roster to a clipboard, she silently vowed to fill it to totality with every name the students would give her.

“Morning,” she greeted to the first trooper in line, the fleeting glance she’d sent his way upon reaching his position instantly exposing his own mild apprehension, as those olive-skinned fists clenched more securely around the straps of the medkit pack on his back. “Name and CT number?”

“CT-663— wait, name?” He caught himself near-instantly, upper lip lifting on one side in a motion of unbridled confusion, those brown eyes dancing across her features as if the nature of her question had been something particularly ludicrous, like requesting to record the colour of his bed sheets. “You… you want our names?”

“Sure do,” she answered simply, taking a careful step backward as the impatient line of soldiers waiting for their turn to pass through the door surged forward and sent the first in line stumbling over his polished dress boots.

“Get a move-on, Croak!” one of the crowd demanded from some distance behind him, his immediate neighbours erupting in a ringing chorus of arrogant guffaws and hardly-suppressed laughter. “You can chat her up later, this pack is kriffing heavy.”

“Would you stow it, Kix!” Croak barked back over his shoulder, though there was no ignoring the flush imbued in those unmarred cheeks as his eyes returned to her. “Croak… CT-6638.”

He hurried into the room with his head down, instantly replaced by the next tall soldier awaiting their turn to enter. CT-3880 “Stretcher” and CT-4558 “Friendly” were the next two through the door, readjusting the bulky kits on their backs as they offered their elected sobriquet before hurrying after their counterpart. When, finally, CT-6161 “Siren” was the last to find his seat in the second row from the back, June closed the door and dimmed the lights, half-heartedly returning Challa’s thumbs up before slinking along the back of the room to take her seat behind the teacher’s desk.

The subsequent three hours saw June near pleading with the stars to further expedite every looming minute, stomach heaving anew with every glance upward from her datapad that saw a set of brown eyes instantly dart away from her. Though she funnelled every effort into following along with Challa’s lecture, the implications of the whispers somehow persevering through his amplified drone only intensified her desperation to leave that stuffy room.

Eleven o’clock came not a second too soon. Thankfully, one of the tasks June had been assigned when responsibilities were first divvied between that doctoral duo was to keep one eye on the chrono by the door. As the combat base had not been initially designed with traditional schooling in mind, there was no alarm to alert them of the conclusion of their allotted time, and Challa had been quick to advise her that overextending their hold on that group of soldiers had serious repercussions of which he hoped they’d never face. And though a handful of troopers, Kix included, offered her a congenial wave as they hiked the medkits back onto their shoulders and headed for the door, June remained stolid and unmoving behind the shield of that teacher’s desk.

FOREWORD | MASTER | PREV | NEXT | ao3

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69 @smw-on-kamino @sverdgeir

[adverbian]

Tag Game

Tagged by @voluptatiscausa and @kotias! ❤️❤️

How many works do you have on ao3?

19!

What's your total ao3 word count?

81,653. Less 2,655 for BooB Omens (the bad porn crack fic collaboration).

What fandoms do you write for?

Good Omens, entirely and completely.

Top five fics by kudos:

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea: Crowley’s been giving Aziraphale space to adjust to being on his own, finally free of Heaven. Now, a gorgeous American philanthropist has started hanging around the bookshop. Has Crowley left things Too Late? (Spoiler alert: There’s a very happy resolution.)

Is This Desire?: A smutty, sex-pollen meditation on desire and consent.

O You and Me At Last: News of one of Aziraphale’s past admirers has Crowley feeling a little… possessive.

one more river (and that's the river of jordan): They are alone now — they are free. They are both nervous, but eager, newlyweds. (My very first posted fic ever!)

In contenti e in allegria: Completely shameless PWP, honeymoon in Paris edition. With 69, galettes, and cheering from the peanut gallery.

Do you respond to comments?

Oh gosh yes! I love to say thank you and generally flail.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh gosh. I don't write much angst; my soft heart can't take it. I guess Revolver, a double drabble set in the late 1960s, ends with unresolved pining: "Aziraphale loosened the knot of his tie slightly, and swallowed. He wasn’t actually certain he could withstand The Firebird, not with Crowley so close. Maybe the be-bop had been the lesser evil, after all."

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh lord have mercy. I think nearly everything I've written has been deliriously happy in the end, because of who I am as a person (and the fact that I started writing fic because I actually could not stand the heartbreak of S2 for one more second without losing my entire mind; I was genuinely not okay).

Set Me As a Seal Upon Your Heart is probably the longest, happiest, most glowing ending.

Confiteor may have been the biggest relief.

Do you get hate on fics?

I have gotten exactly zero so far. People have been so lovely.

Do you write smut?

I write a lot of smut. I have.... 3 T-rated works, 4 M-rated works, and the rest are E.-rated. I'm actually surprised it's 3 T-rated. I thought it was 1. I guess I wrote a couple of non-smutty drabbles.

Craziest crossover:

Lololol there is a very smol Lord Peter Wimsey crossover in a footnote to one more river. That is so far the only crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I'm blissfully unaware <- same as two prev....

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, although I got (and said yes to) a request to translate Da Pacem, a sestina about Aziraphale and Crowley stealing hours to meet under cover of darkness to plan their resistance (and perhaps to engage in... other activities).

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Other than BooB Omens, no! (Which was an extremely loose and wild collab that just kinda happened one evening; I spent all of like 15 minutes writing a deliberately stupid paragraph.) I would love to collab more!

All time favorite ship?

Aziraphale/Crowley, always. I do not know why, but they have taken over my entire brain in a way that nothing else ever has. And I was there for Picard/Crusher, Mulder/Scully, and Buffy/Angel, which were a lot.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hnnnng I really want to write one followup to the Auprès de ma blonde timeline, but it's so so patchy and poorly developed as of the last uh six months.

What are your writing strengths?

I am told that I am good at multi-sensory smut, and humor, and that there is a smoothness and flow to my writing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I do not know what I am doing with any sort of complicated plot! So far, the most plot I have ever managed was a very very simple and short-lived apparent love triangle in Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. I am trying to write more of a plot for a fic containing Leonardo da Vinci, but that WIP has been superseded by Event Fics for the last few months. It will happen!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Sure? I can almost do it if it's French (as long as I am allowed to look things up). (French friends, privately tell me how bad did I fuck it up in Auprès de ma blonde; I will sneakily fix it. I am sorry that I did not know you when I was writing it or I would have asked you to beta-read it!)

First fandom you wrote in?

Ahahahahaha, Baby-Sitters Club, if you count handwritten fic in a notebook that never saw anybody's eyes but my own. We're talking original-era BSC books here.

If you mean posted on the internet.... it was Good Omens.

Favorite fic you've written?

Oh gosh. I cannot pick just one.

Is This Desire? is probably the one that I feel the most accomplished about.

O You and Me At Last has what might be my favorite smut scene.

Exsultet was probably the one that took the most effort to write -- I still have a completely-different alternate version in WIPs that is getting closer to seeing the light of day.

And my newest fic, Gibraltar May Tumble, is probably the most I have ever had to trust the process while writing; it started out so larval and had to go through a whole metamorphosis.

Gosh I don't even know who to tag that hasn't already played. Er, @onedappercat, @wingsofopal, ???

[riverdamien]

American Heroes!

Philippians 4:6-9

New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about[a] these things. 9 As for the things that you have learned and received and heard and noticed in me, do them, and the God of peace will be with you.

    Some key virtues that made Elizabeth Ann Seton, a great saint and (unofficial saints)  Martin Luther King Jr., and Sister Helen Prejean happen to be American ideals.  On July 4th, it’s good to remember what those American virtues are, because they stem from the Declaration of Independence.

    As Pope Francis put it when he spoke at Independence Hall in 2015, “The history of this nation is also the tale of a constant effort, lasting to our own day, to embody those lofty principles.”

All three were and are pioneers, willing to go outside what’s comfortable.

    Americans—from the Native peoples who lived on what God’s providence provided to the settlers and immigrants who came from distant lands—have always been people who journey and build.

        In recent years we've celebrated anniversaries that show this willingness on our part—75 years since we went to Normandy; 50 years since we went to the moon. There have also been anniversaries of American business pioneers: pop art innovator Marvel Comics turned 80 and fashion brand The Gap turned 50.

    Elizabeth Ann Seton’s, Martin Luther King Jr.'s, and Sr. Helen Prejean's lives are marked by this same willingness to journey and create. 

    At age 29, St. Elizabeth left New York for Italy, and that led to her conversion to Catholicism upon her return. At age 31, she started a school for young women in New York. At age 34 she was ready to leave the country for Canada but went to Baltimore instead. From there, she settled a year later in Emmitsburg, Maryland, where she founded the first free school for girls run by Catholic Sisters, and the first congregation of women religious founded in the United States, as well.

    Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was the leader of the Civil Rights movement that began the journey to equality for all minority citizens; Sr. Helen Prejean is presently leading a movement to abolish the death penalty, a movement of life and healing. Both left the safety of the status quo and have moved onto the line of the margins.

    That also shows another American virtue.

St. Elizabeth Ann, Dr. King, and Sr. Helen have the American ability to turn a “land of exile” into a home.

    Americans are also people of exile. The first Europeans who moved here were all fleeing something—religious persecution, political despotisms, and economic dead ends. Ironically, of course, we turned American Indians’ native land into a land of exile for them as we expanded west.

    Religious pilgrims understand living in exile. We long for “that blessed fatherland from which we are all exiles,” while we call down blessings on our earthly homes.

Especially after her conversion to Catholicism, Elizabeth understood how America was both her home and a place of exile.

“Oh joy joy joy a Captain B will take us to America!” she wrote when planning to return home from Italy. Her daughter, she said, was “wild with joy'— yet often whispers to me ‘Ma is there no Catholics in America? Ma won’t we go to the Catholic Church when we go home?’”

Years after becoming Catholic, she still found herself a stranger in her homeland. “I am gently, quietly and silently a good Catholic,” she wrote. “The rubs, etc., are all past … only a few knotty hearts that must talk of something — and the worst they say is ‘so much trouble has turned her brain.’ Well … I kiss my Crucifix which I have loved for so many years and say they are only mistaken.”

    Martin Luther King Jr. "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character"; and Sr. Helen continues to live out: "I saw the suffering and I let myself feel it; I saw the injustice and was compelled to do something about it; I changed from being a nun who only prayed for the suffering world to a woman with my sleeves rolled up living my prayer."

    Being American allowed all three to change their identities.

    Changing identities has become a cliché—from Taylor Swift’s new personae on every new album to our own new personas in our profile pictures. But there is also a praiseworthy aspect to this flexibility.

    Forging yourself anew with no foundations comes from rootlessness or narcissism. Forging yourself anew in Christ comes from authentic freedom and humility.

    The virtue of daily conversion requires that we stretch our definition of ourselves, getting rid of what holds us back from Christ. St. John Paul II called this “becoming who you are.”

Elizabeth, of course, embraced conversion in her own life. She went from Episcopalian to Catholic, from wife and mother to religious sister, from sister to Mother, from Mother to foundress.

    Dr. King left the security and prestige of being a Black pastor, to one who proclaimed justice for all; Sr. Helen went from simply being a praying nun, to a nun on her feet fighting for true justice in seeking to abolish the death penalty.

    All of these are very Christian and American. As John Adams said, “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”

    Self-government only works for moral people who can improve themselves and don’t require others to intervene.

St. Elizabeth Ann, Dr. King, and Sr. Helen are big thinkers.

    Americans have always had a genius for thinking bigger and bolder, from the desire to build a new nation from scratch in the wilderness, to modern America where everything is big compared to the rest of the world: Our houses are bigger, our washing machines are bigger, and our stores are bigger. This is a mixed blessing. Thinking big often shows a lack of humility and an insensitivity to the weak and vulnerable.      

    But Christianity and other religious expressions are a beautiful marriage of the big and the small. The same reality enlivens the strive for justice in our Capitols, and serving in soup kitchens and on the streets.

    Thinking small, but focused on the immensity of God, lands us in a big place. St. Thérèse of Lisieux’s Little Way leads to big change. Small contributions have led to changes in civil rights for all and in all contributions to the homeless.

    St. Elizabeth Ann embraced this paradox. a“We must often draw the comparison between time and eternity,” she said. “This is the remedy of all our troubles. How small will the present moment appear when we enter that great ocean.”

Her formula was simple: “The first end I propose in our daily work is to do the will of God;” she wrote, “secondly, to do it in the manner he wills it; and thirdly to do it because it is his will.”

So, how to sum up St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and Sister Helen Prejean?

    They have adventurous spirits, they made a home in hard circumstances, “became all things to all” for Christ, and have left a giant legacy. They embodied many of the best virtues of being American, and all three American citizens. Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

--------------------------------------------------------

"Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever. Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say It is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend. — Naomi Shihab Nye, “Kindness”

------------------

30th Anniversary Celebration

Victor’s Pizza

6 p.m.

November 9, 2024

WE ARE BEGGARS! WE REALLY NEED MONEY1

FOR FOOD, SOCKS, HARM REDUCTION AND OTHER SERVICES!

P.O. Box 642656

415-305-2124

temenos@gmail.com

pay pal

www.temenos.org

(Temenos and Dr. River seek to remain accessible to everyone. We do not endorse particular causes, political parties, or candidates, or take part in public controversies, whether religious, political or social--Our pastoral ministry is to everyone!

Temenos Catholic Worker

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

Dr. River Sims, D.Min, D.S.T.

PRAYER

THAT ALL PEOPLE—BELIEVERS AND NON-BELIEVERS-UNITE IN PROCLAIMING THE TRUTH

OF THE NONVIOLENT JESUS AND HIS WAY OF NONVIOLENT LOVE OF

FRIENDS AND ENEMIES.

Abba, in the name of Jesus

we ask you to send the Holy Spirit

to gather the Churches together,

so that with one heart, one mind, and one voice

they may proclaim as God’s Way

Jesus’ Way of Nonviolent Love of all people

—friends and enemies—

and thereby proclaim that

violence is not the Christian Way,

violence is not the Holy Way,

violence is not the Gospels’ Way,

violence is not the Apostolic Way,

violence is not the Way of Jesus,

violence is not the Way of God,

and thus set Christians free forever

from bondage to the unholy,

unapostolic, un-Christlike ways

of the false gods and theologies

of violence and enmity.

We plead this grace

so that the Nonviolent Lamb

may be our Lord in deed,

as well as, in word and sacrament.

We request this gift

so that the Christian Community may be

—for afflicted humanity—

a faithful witness to Jesus’ Way of overcoming evil.

We implore this healing

so that the Church may be an authentic extension in time and space

of the Way of the Lamb of God, of the Way of the Nonviolent Jesus,

which is the Way to renew the face of the earth and to Eternal Salvation for each and all.

Our Lamb has conquered! Let us follow Him!

SAME ENERGY!

Put me in jail, then. Throw me behind your religious bars since you have dubbed me a breaker of your law. I live my days in the courtroom of your criticism. I move unbothered under the gaze of your gavel. I have no interest in defending myself before your bench. Go on, clench your fists, raise your voice to make your point. Type the rebuke that you must make on my page. Who asked you to come through anyway? Is this rage your duty? We operate under a different set of obligations and get worked up to frustration for different reasons, even though we both claim fidelity to God. If you were interested, which I doubt, here is where my passion lies: feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, defend the rights of the orphan, plead the widow’s cause, and woe to you who unjustly enforce God’s Law. Why spend your energy policing me when that same energy could be used to love, fiercely? Justice, mercy, and humility. Go learn what this means. Drew Jackson

[jsbmarketresearch01]

Dhoni’s Incredible Gesture of Signing Gavaskar’s Shirt Upon the Legend’s Request Wins Hearts on the Internet

Many believe that Dhoni is playing his final season of IPL in domestic cricket. Cricket fans generously greeted him at Chepauk, where CSK faced off against KKR. As the crowd went into a frenzy, Sunil Gavaskar, the batting legend of India ran up to Dhoni and asked him for a special autograph. Dhoni in an incredible gesture, signed the shirt of Gavaskar after the match. And this suddenly caught up the internet, and went viral as Thala, as Dhoni’s nickname goes, became the talk of the day.

After Dhoni and other teammates from CSK marshaled on the field one last time in IPL’s 16th edition at Chepauk, Sunil Gavaskar resounded the feelings of the audience by saying that players like Dhoni happen once in a century and not in every generation. The former skipper of India had an emotional time during the final home game, where CSK battled KKR at the MA Chidambaram Stadium. Dhoni expressed his gratitude by hitting some balls toward the audience with a racquet.

This was in tribute to the home fans at Chepauk. He even shook hands with policemen there and tossed jerseys. He was the apple of the eye of the crowd before the IPL and after the final home game of CSK as well in 2023. In honor of Chepauk, the CSK team performed a special lap even after KKR defeated the four-time winner CSK at the venue. It was KKR’s first win after a decade over CSK at the Chepauk. In 20 overs, CSK scored 144-6 as they batted first.

Dhoni scored 2 runs in 3 balls and remained unbeaten with Shivam Dube (48) in their final game at home in IPL 2023 season. KKR’s Rinku Singh scored 54 and Rana 57, which granted them a win over CSK. Rinku was awarded the Player of the Match because of his great performance with the bat. The two-time winner KKR had a six-wicket win against CSK and made a place for their team in the seventh spot at the points table of IPL 2023.

CSK on the other hand is in the second spot in the IPL 2023 points tablet and the team is expected to have healthy competition ahead, and probably finish off as the first in the IPL standings. This IPL season, Dhoni-led CSK has till now achieved 7 wins in 13 matches.

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[doublegoblin]

Rituals and Red Tape Chapter 3

[I have edited and polished up this chapter! If you'd like to read the edited version you can read it HERE on my Wattpad -Max]

The grating squealed and protested. I grunted and strained against its weight as I lugged this iron behemoth to the side by means of unflattering shuffling. Several livestock raised their heads towards the noise, amber eyes shining from the shadows. My descent ushered them away with indignant vocalizations. The damp and mossy floor squelched as I pressed into it. A weak stream of liquid lazily flowed from the umbral curtains. After a few moments of messing with them my eyes could catch even the faintest rays of light from the entrance now only a pinprick of light. Life bloomed along the water flow with iridescent flowers and luminous mosses faintly glowing in the presence of motion. Redwoods made of stone and rebar held the roof above from crashing in.

Thankfully nobody noticed the rudimentary markings on a particular weather pillar; or maybe they just didn’t care? I shifted the loose slab to the side and tore the vines from my satchel. Draped loosely over my shoulder I followed the stream. Cool damp air carried the scent of old soil as the barn above pulsated. Each inhale sets off a wave of blue and green lights from vegetation disturbed. 

I left the light show as I traveled deeper towards the center. Stopping as a hulking mass of fur trotted between the pillars, followed by smaller fur balls. The Sow must have just given birth. Giving them a wide berth I sat upon the worn stone that gave me my favorite view over the pond. Insect too small to see flashed as they searched for a mate. The water rippling as the winds flew past gave away the hiding predators snuffing out those same lights.

Once the family outing was a safe distance I hurried past; the moss became thinner and gave way to the concrete floor as I came closer to my destination.

There it was. In the center chamber; a monolithic conglomeration of stone, metal, and flesh. The many eyes trained on me as I drew near. Steam billowed from fleshy ports as The Fountain gurgled to life. Gears grinding, bones snapping, and the crushing of rock deafened the chamber as a face took form. A pleasant smile crept across the golem’s lips as I set my satchel down.

“Hey buddy. Ma and Pa said you weren’t producing enough water for the farm. Something up? You got a blocked port? Maybe a misaligned cognition crystal?” I patted along the ‘body’ as I inspected them.

An unseen speaker rumbled to life.

Error log:

Once in the dark

Twice in the light

Solitude

Company

Anxiety to fear

Let the waters of life flow

Ceased

Impact

Confusion

Growing only to die and wither

Seeking the light of Prometheus

Great, I love riddles…

“You know what would be a great help,” lifting a stone slab I looked over the runes inscribed within “is if you would just tell me what was wrong, I don’t have time to play twenty questions.” Kneeling down I set the satchel on the ground and rummaged through it.

The fountain remained silent, eyes staring through me as I retrieved the codex and poured over the pages; cross referencing them with the runes inside The Fountain. 

“No?” I grabbed a stray neuronucleus; it squirmed and vibrated but nothing unusual “I guess it didn’t hurt to ask.” I closed the slab back up and walked back to the face, “Your runes look okay, no weird readings from the production matrix, and we can see your homunculus drive is still operating. So I guess; request to access diagnostic reports?”

Access denied

System Stable

Input not recognized

“Okay…well so we aren’t having a technical problem then. Hold on, I’m going to try and get a hold of someone a bit more qualified.” I turn away grabbing a hold of my pendant. The Fountain cast an intense light down near my feet as alarm sirens howled.

Alert:

Output levels decreasing

Partner

Stray

Consuming from within

Virus

Parasite

Indulging in the decomposition

System overloading

Output overflowing

Alert

Alert

Alert

Maintenance required

The speakers blared loudly, shaking the chamber. It was then I saw them. Scars upon the stone, deep gouges caked in blood.

“Fountain, buddy, hey!”  shielding my eyes with one arm I waved the other hand towards the face, the deafening noise slowly falls and the light fades away “Easy, easy, I think I get what you were trying to tell me. Go ahead and go back to sleep, we’ll get this sorted out okay?”

The Fountain returned to its dormant form; I knelt down to inspect the damage. 

Five feet long, two feet deep. Cleanly cut. Slightly curved clockwise towards the end.

From behind me a noise. A heady hiss and clattering. The thing was heading this way.

I took shelter behind a pillar grabbing my pendant. 

In hushed tones “Hey Andrea? I think I figured out what’s causing The Fountain to act up.”

“Alex? You’ve got to speak up. What, has one of the farm animals got you spooked?” Her laugh chirped through the pendant.

“Andrea, shhhh!” I peeked around the corner, nothing yet, “I need you to get in contact with the wildlife department for me, I’m out of my league with this one.” 

“Gotcha. I guess just hang tight?” Left alone in silence, each moment felt like an eternity.

Forest green light dimly pierced through the robes, finally! 

“Hello, this is Alex from Auditing.” Still not daring to raise my voice above a whisper.

“Sup, this is Ishmael from the CBCDNR. What can I do you for? Also can you like, speak up? Can barely hear ya’.” I could practically smell the sunscreen just from his voice.

“I’m currently down in the Fountain chamber at The Farm and I think we have an unwelcome guest. I’m worried if I talk any louder I’ll attract some unwanted attention, sorry.”

“No worries lemme just,” muffled movement and analog clicks “there we go! Cool, so, can you give a description of our friend?”

“Haven’t seen it yet; just some claw marks and I can hear it. Would any of that help?”

“I mean yeah? Not like, a lot, but a good starting point. Shoot!”

“Okay well, the claw marks are about five feet in length and pretty deep. Also it sounds like a big snake hissing mixed with what I can best describe as throwing some bones down a flight of stairs. I think it’s moving towards The Fountain now and it’s like somebody is dragging a giant metal drum and digging up the ground with several pickaxes.”

“Uh-huh, rad.” I could hear him typing away “So, that narrows it down a bit, gonna need a visual before I give you anything solid. Can you get a little peaky-peek at it for me?”

Something massive was now near The Fountain, obscured by shadows,

“Alright I have eyes on it-”

“How many eyes?”

“Sorry, not what I meant. Long serpentine body, arachnid-like legs, and I can barely see the head…I’ll try and get a closer look.” I crouched down and approached as Ishmael chattered away.

“Cool, think I got something, just gotta let me know what that noggin looks like and you’ll be in ID-ville.”

“So it’s just bone, like a dog skull but stretched really far. I can only see one side of the face but three eyes in a row, the eyes are a deep purple and self illuminating.” I retreated back to safety as I watched this beast slither around The Fountain. Occasionally it would lodge its entire face into it and drink the fluid.

“Oh man, so I got great news, good news, and really not great news.”

“Give me the good stuff first please.” My heart was racing and I needed something positive. This thing was huge and I had to know what I was getting into.

“Alright, so the great news I have a positive ID. Says in my syst’m here that you are in the presence of a Royal Coiling Terror, congrats! The good news; despite their appearance they are totally chill outside of breeding season.” 

“Let me guess it’s breeding season, is that the bad news?”

“Nah, that’s a few cycles away. The bad news is he’ll need to be relocated. So for us to help you we’re gonna need you to keep this dude where he is. The capture seal is trained on your location and can’t have him boogie’n too far or else it’ll just be a massive headache.”

“I don’t see how that is bad news, you said they were chill?”

“Well I mean yeah, when they are in their native habitat. My dude here isn’t kicking it back home is he? He’s most likely gonna be a bit grumpy. I just let my team know the sitch’ and we’ll be there soon. Oh yeah before I let ya go, gotta mention this dude is an endangered species so, like, don’t go roughing him up too bad. Later!”

“Wait!” It was too late, he hung up.

Right, sure, like I’m crazy enough to mess with this thing. I think it’ll be easier for me to just lay low an-

An acrid stench stung my nose while a warm and fetid wind rustled my robe. Above me the grinding of stone and claw. Turning my head slowly I came face to face with a purple orb; one eye large enough to fit inside. It was then I truly appreciated the size of the beast.

A low note shook the ground I stood on as the throat of the Coiling Terror reverberated.

I was a statue. Hoping by some miracle this thing's vision wasn’t that great; or at the very least I wanted to look less like prey.

Agonizing stillness.

The head of death ascends away; I let out a sigh.

I am thrown into the inky darkness as the pillar explodes into nothingness.

Skidding to a halt the moss covered flooring spared me the worst of it. Though I laid there nerves screaming. The wind lost from my breast returned as I groaned. Hands trembling, I gripped the medallion.

“This is Alex from auditing. Requesting permission t-ugh-permission to engage.” 

I felt the beast approaching as the pain subsided. Getting back to my feet, with the world spinning, I stumbled to another pillar and rested my weight on it. Bones and tendons snapped back into place. My vision cleared; I held the medallion once again, greeted by stock music.

A mane of colorful feathers erected at the base of the skull as the beast lowered itself into an insect-like slither. Prey cornered and weakened, he could take his time. The ground hissed as corrosive saliva dripped from the eager jaws.

Limping away I tried to speak through the music “This is Alex from au-”

“We’re sorry there seems to have been an issue with your previous submission; please contact processing support.” A synthesized voice spoke with a passive aggressive tone before silence again.

Finding my stride once more I took off into a dead sprint. The beast roared and gave chase. Fumbling to get a hold of the medallion I found my grip and tuned to the correct channel.

“Thank you for contacting processing support, we’re currently assisting other callers, please remain on the line and someone will be with you shortly.”

Oh come on!

Hold music droned through the cavernous expanse as I ran. The chipper and soulless notes with the odd moments of static adding a morbid humor to a chase.If there was a silver lining to this all, I was most certainly more agile than the beast.

 Ducking to the left as a stream of acid whizzes past my head, I dropped an arm down to pivot my body into a sharp curve. Letting the momentum carry me I shot away from a last second collision with a pillar. My footing though was unsteady thanks to the slick moss; the smooth escape turning into an uneasy fumble and tumbling. The beast, not as mobile, crashed into the pillar; its body coiling around like rope. An agitated screech coupled with the sounds of struggle as it tried to untangle itself. When I could finally get a solid footing I dove into a side drain. 

Pressed against the stone I was at least safe on three sides. Centering myself I knelt closer to the ground and returned my attention to my correspondence.

The music cuts to silence “Hello?”

 “Thank you for holding, our operators are still assisting other callers, please remain on the line.”

Why do they keep reminding you of that? 

Peeking my head out from the circular opening I wasn’t sure if I’d rather see something or nothing. Bittersweet nothing; the beast was also in hiding. The hold music cut away once more; thankfully it was an actual voice.

“Thank you for contacting processing support, we apologize for the wait, how can we help?” Just like the music before these words held no joy, only a hollow veneer.

“Hi, this is Alex from Auditing. I am in a bind at the moment; I requested permission to engage but something went wrong I guess,” I dared to peek out once more “I really need to get this sorted out.”

“Give me just a moment while I pull up the record, may I put you back on hold?” Keys quietly clacked under the voice.

“I would rather y-” at least this track was different “great.”

Oh right, my satchel! I had been saving it for potentially rowdy livestock, but priorities had definitely shifted.

Weighing my options I cautiously stepped from the safety of the drain. On the one hand there wasn’t anything to greet me, but, there also wasn’t anything to greet me. Sticking low to the ground I scuttled from pillar to pillar. How something so large could vanish without a trace was mind-boggling. The Fountain came back into view as the operator came back.

“Thank you again for waiting, I was able to find your submission. Looks like there was some background interference during your request so our system got confused.”

“That’s awesome, so were you able to get it sorted out?” The satchel was just within arms reach now.

“Unfortunately you will need to resubmit the request. I can help you with that if you’d like.”

“Sure, please.” my finger was inches from the strap when the ground to my right sputtered and hissed.

“Very well, now, please state your name and department.”

Raising my gaze to the ceiling “Alex…auditing.” I croaked out as six purple orbs dimly illuminated the serpentine form.

“Mmhmm,” gentle keystrokes “and why are you submitting a request for engagement?”

With a bone chilling screech the Coiling Terror lunged from above with maw stretched open wide “Hostile entity!” I struggled to find footing on the slick moss in a desperate attempt to flee.

“There is no need to shout. Also please be sure to keep background noise to a minimum, it is hard to hear you otherwise.” 

It was no use the maws closed around me, lifting both myself and foundation alike. Complete darkness. The stench of a thousand rotting corpses. Skeletal hands clawed at my ankles from the beast's throat.

“Your request has been submitted. Thank you for contacting processing support. Please stay on the line as there will be a survey.”

My body shuddered with new vitality; teeth scattered across the flooring as I came to a skidding halt. A pained screech as the beast retreated back into the darkness. Unfortunately a shimmering barrier halted his flight. Dazed, it slumped into a pile.

“Oh no, not this time, I am done playing cat and mouse with you.” Rummaging through my bag I withdrew a small black gemstone obelisk. It glowed a dull red as it merged into my hand. 

I can’t take this thing down, but I can keep it in place until backup arrives.

The Coiling Terror shook it’s head as it arose from it’s momentary slumber. Curiously, it inspected the barrier with a talon. I held my ground just observing him, had he forgotten about me already?

“Thank you for staying on the line. To help us better help you, please answer the following questions on a scale of one to five; one being not very great and five being very great…”

The feathery crown erected once again. As its eyes came to rest on me I severed the connection between me and the automated voice. We stood in stillness, anticipating the first move but not willing to make it. Then, to my shock and horror; the beast spoke.

“E’oarJ”

A denizen. This thing was a denizen? Softening my posture I lowered my arms. 

“Hello?”

“Leux” Tightening its coils, the beast I think was trying to appear smaller.

“Sorry I don’t understand the tongue you are using.” I started to approach but a defensive hiss stopped me. “Can you understand me?”

“Otlu’vyr’yux”

Can’t get a read on if this thing is actually communicating or parroting. I guess it doesn’t matter, he’s not trying to eat me anymore.

“So that’s it then? I go through all that for you to just give up?” I didn’t trust it.

Trusting or not didn’t matter for much longer as I heard the footfalls of backup. 

From the shadows marched a small platoon of deep green camo-print suit wearing men and women. Their leader wore a neon orange bandana that limply fluttered in the breeze. His bronzed skin glistened with tiny jewels of sweat, Ishmael. 

“Sup!” he approached with a leisurely jog as his squad formed a perimeter flanking him. 

“You must be Ishmael.” I turned my body to speak with him but also keep the Coiling Terror in my line of sight. “Looks like our ‘friend’ here has given up.”

“Oh rad!” looking over at the beast he lets out a long whistle “What a beauty! Your words did not do our boy here justice,” taking out a small notepad he started writing “but yeah, makes sense he’d give up the ghost, these guys are ambush predators. Give ‘em a good hit and they’d rather turn tail and run.” He motions for his squad to circle in on the beast.

“How can something that big be an amb-...nevermind. Hey Ishmael, are you sure this thing isn’t a denizen, it just started talking.” I turned my full attention to the conversation, turning my back to the beast.

Absorbed in his notes “Yeah? Nah. At least I haven’t encountered one that has before, they pick up words here and there…usually from their last meal; smart things but like, not that smart you feel?”

Wind buffeted my robes as the Coiling Terror launched from it’s coiled posture towards me. Thankfully I had just enough time to hold up the hand the obelisk had fused with. Chains of gold emerged from several floating portals and bound the beast to the ground. Ishmael didn’t even look up from his writing, just wiped dust from his brow.

“Rule one of dealing with any wildlife, don’t like, turn your back on it.” A coy smile traced across his lips as he closed the book “C’mon that’s day one orientation; though I guess the other departments have it easy so stuff like that just kinda goes out the backdoor.” He claps me on the shoulder and walks past. 

My robes fluttered on an unseen wind, the fabric of my hood turning to a bright crimson.

Without another word Ishmael and his team left with the beast. The sounds of livestock returning to what was once silence and stillness. I found a dry spot to sit and breathe. The obelisk fell from my hand shattering into fine dust, scattered away along a gentle breeze. Easy assignment my ass.

[romioneficfest]

Ring

Title: Rings Prompt: Bonus Day - Kisses Name: Rated: T Brief Summary: A row about payments turns bad real quick for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Will they overcome it? Content Warning: harsh language, domestic rowing, lots of angst.

Set out in front of his seat at the dining room table are two past due payment notices. For whatever reason, their council tax wasn’t paid and they had a past-due notice from the Utility company. ‘Bloody Hell! How did I miss paying these? I swear I paid them the last time I was in Gringott’s,’ says the very annoyed redhead, as he proceeds to slam them down in front of him while running a hand through his shaggy hair. 'And I know I mailed off the utility bill the day after you left. I don’t know why that past due notice was sent.’

‘We shouldn’t have to pay these interest fees if you would’ve paid them on time when I told you to,’ said the bushy-haired witch.

‘Oi, it’s not my fault. I did pay them. I’m not the only one that has to pay the bills around-’ his words were cut short by the deadly glare his fiancee is giving him. 

‘I pay bills too, Ron, and might I just add that it was your turn to pay since I was away on a business trip, not some fancy holiday. I told you before you made the payment to make sure you're listed as a representative for the account.' 

'I did check ahead of time, why don’t you trust me, it's like you think I can't take care of it on my own’, he retorts. 

‘Don’t make this about trust, you know I trust you. Maybe you forgot to send the payment because you had other plans. 'Tell me what you were doing while I was gone?’ She puts her finger to her mouth and bites her pink lip, pretending to think for a moment. ‘Oh yes, you decided to go with Seamus to a Quidditch match and drink the weekend away! Then you got so bloody pissed that you went on a spending splurge and bought almost every piece of ridiculous Quidditch gear, memorabilia, and posters you can think of,’ Hermione fired back with so much bite that Ron thought she was going to hex him any minute. 

He rolls his eyes then looks at the table linen, just now noticing that it’s so torn and stained that you can barely call it a tablecloth. Shaking his head, he lets out a moan, ‘Come off it, why can’t you let it go? You already told me off for going in the first place. It was the Cannons vs Puddlemere, championship game, and guess what? After they got rid of that rubbish manager as I said, you know who won? The bloody Cannons won. I’ve waited my entire life to see that happen. I thought I’d never see it. And I don’t regret going with Seamus… well, maybe a little since we got pissed and he got sick on me but other than that I had an amazing fucking time and yes, I bought some things so what? I work two bloody jobs to afford a few fun things.' The Auror leans back on the uneven chair and glares back at the woman in front of him, basically challenging her to come up with something else to say. ‘Going to the championship match with him was a once in a lifetime opportunity.’

'Oh Merlin, I can’t even take a break here,' he tells himself. It’s not like she has actually been wanting to be near him for the past few months, well technically it’s been a few weeks but it feels like it’s a lot longer. She would find some sort of excuse to occupy her time, at first. ‘I didn’t think much of it, telling myself she’s been working longer hours.’ However, it didn’t stop there. She would bring so much work home with her that our flat felt more like an office rather than a home. He surveys the room, seeing all of the bright orange memorabilia clashing with the piles of books and parchment all over the place. He grumbles under his breath. The only thing left to get is one of those muggle paper dispensers that give you a number since it’s obvious that he has to arrange some sort of appointment for his petite curly-haired witch to even look his way, he tells himself bitterly.

‘If you had such an amazing time with Seamus, then why don’t you tell him that you’ll be having a blast bunking in his hotel room he’s renting, oh and also tell him next time you decide to go to a Quidditch Match with him that you might as well buy the whole stadium since you are not capable of being a man that remembers his responsibilities or common knowledge to be an adult!’ she explodes, not realizing she crossed a thin line.

As she gets up from the chair, she knocks it back into the wall with force and crosses her arms against her chest. She turns back to him while shaking her head and tries to discreetly wipe the moisture from her eyes, with a frown and despising the fact that every single time they’ve had a blazing row it always ends the same. No matter how many years she has known the piercing blue-eyed occasionally insufferable git, the outcome of a row is practically the same, with her crying like she was 11 and overheard a boy call her insufferable. She always believed that their rows hurt her worse than any curse thrown her way; even her torture at the hands of the most sadistic woman in the wizarding world hurt her heart less. Why couldn’t he follow-through without her supervision?

Only the ticking of the grandfather clock was the only noise in the entire flat. Seconds turned into minutes, he can’t believe she said that to him. Why can’t she see how her words stabbed him straight through his heart. It's like she transformed from his beautiful fiance to the taunting ghost-like figure he destroyed years ago. 

He realized right then that nothing is the same, not like it used to be. He reached up to rub his eyes and found his face wet with tears. She knew about his insecurities but for her to tell him he’s not man enough made him think back to the one nightmare memory. He was a failure. What he never could overcome is finally getting the better of him. He’s frozen to the chair, just staring at her back in utter silence. Noticing every minuscule detail of her, every single curve on her tiny body that he is immensely crazy for. To every chaotic chocolate curl on her head, the way her shoulders are hunched and shaking, making her look even smaller than she actually is. He sits there, soaking in every single detail, trying to memorize everything, fearing that if he blinks, the woman of his dreams would vanish.

Slowly getting up with tears streaming down his now bloodshot eyes making it hard to distinguish whether his eyes are blue or red. Wringing his hands together, he takes a deep breath and tries to not let out a choked sigh.

Why did the locket have to be right? All those nights when he wore it because he knew that the rhythm of the heartbeat emitting from that locket just there taunting him, night after night. It wasn’t there to protect her from that evil. It wasn’t to have her avoid wearing it for one moment because he felt she shouldn’t be mentally tortured by that bloody object. No. The reason he wore that damn thing more was that he knew, deep in the pit of his heart, he wasn’t man enough to be in her life, not good enough to even have a place to call home.

His voice failing repeatedly,  Ron finally finds his voice. ‘I n-never t-thought…,’ damn it, why when I decide to talk I’m failing to even say words correctly, he thinks to himself. Trying again and he wipes his eyes hard with his hands and takes a deep breath. ‘I never thought… you felt that way. I’m so… sorry to disappoint you,’ he tells her, trying his hardest to not break down. ‘I know I made the payment, but maybe I messed up when I sent it. I won’t tell Seamus anything but I’ll leave if that’s what you want. Everything is pointless if you’re not in my life and if you don’t think I’m man enough for you then… well, I’ll get a few of my things.’ He looked up, piercing her with a bereft expression. ‘Keep the ring I bought for you because from what I know… you need a man to stand up to you and for you and love you and I’m not the one for you since I don’t… know how to act like a… man… or an adult.' His voice leaves him practically wheezing out each word like it inflicted physical pain to him. He grabs onto the table almost as if it’s the only thing that is helping him stand up as he weeps. He didn’t notice the woman he loves had stopped shaking and had turned around and is now staring at him with so much anguish.  

It finally dawns on her that when she said he wasn’t man enough she never meant it. Once again, her anger got the best of her. She needed him and he was spending so much time with Seamus and didn’t have time for her. Since Seamus said he knew someone who could get them tickets to the championship tournament and back to catch up with her fiance, she’s barely had any alone time with him. She’s had no time, let alone any time in general with him because of all the work the ministry is pushing on her. 

She is shocked to the core of the way she sees his knuckles, white as snow as he grips the table for dear life. Tears are pouring down her eyes as she gives up holding them back, she wants to, no, she needs to show him she loves him and that she won’t give him back the ring he gave her when they went on a trip with her parents to Australia when he proposed to her. She has to make him understand that he means the world to her. Why is it so complicated when it could be simple? He is a man, she is fully aware of that aspect, but why did I say the opposite? Oh Merlin, why did I have to make him doubt himself. Finding her voice, she tells him in broken sobs, ‘I never meant to say those things to you, I love you so bloody much..' - whatever she was going to say next was cut short from the look he gave her.

It was the same look he gave her before he left the hunt on that rainy night - cold and emotionless, nothing else showing in those beautiful deep blue eyes that she loves almost more than his freckles. She then sees his guard go down and thinks that she might have broken down the barrier that was put up when she first began rowing with him.

‘It’s not that simple, you… you can’t act like things are fine if you apologize.  As the muggles say, ‘actions speak louder than words,’ he replies back and takes a moment to breathe then says, ‘I’m tired of this, Hermione, so tired. I don’t think I can do this anymore. Every time we row, you expect me to apologize, to say sorry when I’m not at fault. Why can’t you ever say, ‘I made a mistake,’ or ‘Let’s see what happened and sort it out,’ not yanking my bollocks for a mistake? If I want that, I’ll go back to work and hear it from them.’ He heaves a desperate sigh. ‘It’s not like I’ve not been a bastard too, saying shite when I’m upset, but you went too far this time. I won’t be your house-elf, kicking me when things go wrong.’ He sighs again, ‘I think it’s best if we go our separate- ‘

‘No!’ she interrupts. 

She lets go of her hand, the one fidgeting with her engagement ring that he spent quite a few galleons on for her and walks to stand under his chin, looking up at him. She had one chance to save everything they’d worked for, one risk to take to admit how much she cocked up and how she was going to fix things between them. 

She had to admit how painfully wrong she was.

He was worth it, wasn’t he? All of the times he backed down, swallowing his pride so she could feel right, all of the times he put aside his needs for her just so she could belittle him over a late council tax payment? She was going to blow apart everything over 5 galleons? Were 5 galleons all their relationship was worth?

How many times did he stay in with her, saving money to afford this flat, affording the occasional nice thing she asked for? How many months did he pull extra shifts with George to afford the ring on her finger, forgoing almost every bit of fun to afford their flat, a few holidays together? He did so much for their relationship because of the future they wanted together.

Why did she get so angry over something so petty, so trivial? What was it that made her explode over something so pointless and say terrible things to her fiance?

If they were to marry, she absolutely needed to work on herself, her temper, her sharp edges that hurt others. She had to quit lashing out at him, the one who supported her ambition completely.

He has done so much for us so why can’t I admit I’m wrong and do my part? 

She lets go of her hand and closes the distance that was made between them and grabs his face and brings her plump lips up to his soft ones and kisses him so hard that she thinks that her lips will bruise. If it does it wouldn’t matter. She can’t let him go even if he isn’t kissing back at first. He is still as a rock but when she lightly bites his lips he seems to come alive and kisses her with so much intensity he forgets all about the wizarding world they live in and only focused on how much he missed this. He almost forgot how amazing of a kisser she is, it's been too bloody long. Every time their lips meet it sends him teetering on the brink of insanity, he can’t get enough.

Wait, no, this won’t be fixed with snogging like any other row, he thinks. 'Hermione,' he gently pulls her face back from his, seeing the tear tracks on her face. 'Kissing me won’t make the problem go away, not this time.'

She stops, taking a very deep breath. 'Ron, I know we need to talk. I needed you to know that what I said was wrong and I made a terrible mistake. I said something that wasn’t true and said it out of anger and frustration when I shouldn’t have done so. You are the best thing in my life and I would be a right foul git to throw it away over 5 galleons. And you have every right to be hurt. I said things that I shouldn’t, especially when it wasn’t honest.’

Ron sits back down in the chair, almost eye height to her standing. She instead kneels down, looking up at him. 'I’ll do whatever it takes, including making an appointment tomorrow with a Healer. I never want to lose you. I did once and it was the worst time in my life. I don’t want a repeat of it again, especially when it’s my fault. I’m sorry.’ She drops her head down, not looking him in the eyes. ‘I need to learn to not hurt you when I’m frustrated. Taking my frustration out on you is wrong.’

He reaches out to her, lifting her chin. 'OK. I’m willing to do everything as well.’

An owl taps on the window, breaking the moment. ‘I’ll get it,’ Hermione gets up and goes to the window, collecting a bit of mail from the owl. Hermione tears it open, reading quickly. A sardonic laugh breaks the silence.. ‘It’s from the Utility company. It seems that it got lost in their mailroom for a fortnight. The post stamp on the envelope was the day I left.’ Hermione turned and her face was tomato red. ‘I was wrong to doubt you.’ 

[crescentblue-acnh]

Genshin Impact Cosplay Collection pt 4 - Inazuma Edition Featuring Kazuha, Yoimiya, Raiden Shogun, Thoma and Ayaka! Yoimiya, RS, and Thoma are available in skin tones 1, 3, 6, and 8, and more can be made upon request. Links below for all my other Genshin Impact ACNH Cosplays! Part 1 - Starter Characters Part 2 - Liyue Set Part 3 - Mondstadt Set Part 5 - Inazuma Set 2 Part 6 - Liyue Set 2 Part 7 - Dragonspine Set

MA-4019-4067-9725 ⚡ IG | ko-fi | Pinterest

[otptings]

Oops

Idol; Mark

Genre; Smut

Warnings; slight exhibitionism, raw sex, nipple sucking, blow jobs, head (f receiving), choking, daddy kink (mentioned once), praise kink (implied)

Synopsis; You spill water down your shirt, accidentally making it see through and flustering your poor fwb, Mark

requested by anon I hope it is too your liking, thank you for requesting it means a lot to meet is 3 am where I am so I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes ill edit it in the morning

Fuck. Looking down at my top I saw that it was absolutely soaked in water. Playfully glaring at Jisung I saw him look at me with an apologetic smile, the least he can do considering he made me spill most of my water bottle all over myself. Standing up I walked to Mark's dorm room. Looking around for a hoodie to through on over it I was interrupted by the door shutting. Glancing over my shoulder I saw Mark standing in front of it, his face a pale red.

"Are you okay?" Sighing I nodded my head before turning around to show him the full damage.

"Yea, my shirt is just absolutely soaked though. I'm borrowing a hoodie."

"Shouldn't you take the shirt off?" Raising my eyebrow I watched as Mark started to stumble over his words. Giving him a once over I realized that his eyes kept getting drawn to my chest. Looking down I saw that my lacy pink bra was completely on display.

"I mean it like you might get sick dude. Not that I want you to take your shirt off, not that that's a bad thing dude I just want you to be comfortable." Walking over to Mark I pressed myself fully against his chest, forcing him to lean back into the door.

"Do you like what you see?" At my words, Mark swallowed hard not knowing what to say. Smirking I leaned off of him and quickly pulled my shirt off of my head, throwing it behind me.

"If you wanted to see me without my shirt you only had to ask." Mark's mouth dropped open upon seeing me, we've been dating for a couple months but we haven't done anything more than make out due to the boys always being around.

Putting my hand under his shirt I rubbed down his chest, feeling his abs. Mark's breathing slowly started getting faster the lower I went. By the time I got to his belt I thought that he would pass out, his face almost completely red and him letting his awkward laugh. Undoing his belt, I quickly pulled his pants down, leaving his boxers in the way.

Rubbing along his cock I could feel that we was already fully hard just by my little bit of teasing. Looking up at him I rubbed my face against his cock, hearing his breath catch, whether at the sensation or the visual. Mouthing over his cock through his boxers, causing him to let out breathy moans, quiet enough so that the boys wouldn't hear us.

Pulling away I saw the wet spot at the tip, that I had purposefully avoided, was bigger. Playing with the elastic of his boxers I looked up at him again, seeing his head through back against the door. Tugging his boxer's down I felt myself get wetter at the sight of his cock.

He wasn't too big, but he was a perfect size with a curve to is. The tip was a light pink due to all of the teasing, and a precum was leaking from the tip. Not taking any more time to tease I wrapped my mouth around the tip, causing his first moan of the night.

Slowly going down I looked up at him through my eyelashes, surprised to see him looking back at me. I felt his dick twitch in my mouth, before I pulled back off. Licking all around the tip I flicked my tongue over the bundle of nerves under the head, causing him to let out a louder moan than the first.

"Sh you don't want the boys to hear us do you?" Quickly shaking his head Mark bit his lip. Turning my attention back to putting it down my throat, making my nose touch the little bit of stubble at the base of his cock. Moving my hand down I softly grabbed his balls, rolling them and lightly squeezing them as I sucked him off. His moans got increasingly louder the more I did.

Taking turns from sucking on the tip, to licking over his ball sack making him into a moaning mess. I felt his dick twitch again, along with a particularly loud moan and pulled off causing him to let out a little cry.

"I don't want you to come until youre in me? Okay?" Standing up I pulled Mark towards his heads, telling him to sit on it. Quickly taking off my shorts I straddled his thighs, leaning in to kiss him.

Our make out sessions normally were calm. Our lips move smoothly against each other, sometimes when it got more intense they would move faster. They were nothing like this kiss.

This kiss was full of list, him sucking my lower lip into his mouth causing me to moan. Licking into each other's mouth, feeling our tongues glide over each other, constantly fighting for dominance.

Suddenly Mark flipped our position so that I was on my back and he was in between my legs. Pulling away from the kiss, Mark pulled my bra. Placing both of his hands on my breasts, he slowly started to play with them, rolling his thumbs over my nipples until they were hard. Leaning down he placed my left nipple in his mouth, sucking on it hard causing me to let a moan at the sensation. His warm tongue swirled around my nipple, while his other hand continued to play with the other one, pinching and twisting it. Switching his attention to the other one I whined at my pussy getting neglected, I could feel the way my underwear was sticking to my soaked cunt.

"Ma-Mark please." I tried to speak but it ended up being a high pitched whine. Looking up at me I swear if I wasn't already horny I would've been soaked.

Mark looked at me with almost pitch black eyes, blown out pupils. He looked as if he wanted to eat alive, and I wouldn't put it past him. I felt a little like prey just waiting to be devoured.

"You were so vocal before what happened?" He sucked a bruise on both of my breasts before moving his kisses down my body. Stopping when he reached my underwear, glancing up at me again before he took them off and tossed them. I felt exposed by the way that he was looking pussy that I knew was dripping at all of the foreplay he had already done. "You look so pretty. Why haven't we done this before?"

Before I could answer Mark licked a wide strip up my pussy, before flicking my clit with his tongue. I felt my mind going fuzzy at the intense pressure in my stomach. Reaching my hand down I ran my finger's through Mark's hair, trying to catch my breath from the intense way he was eating me. I felt him slip in two fingers, and my mind truly went blank. I tried to warn him before I came but the way that his fingers were massaging my g spot, and rubbing against my walls all I could do was release a moan before cumming.

Pulling Mark licked his lips, before letting a growl leave his mouth. I've never seen Mark look more feral than he did in that moment. Coming back up he smashed our lips together, shoving his tongue back into my mouth. I could taste my essence, and moaned into his. I hadn't even realized that he had taken his boxers off until I felt his cock pushing into my entrance.

Separating our lips I watched as he pushed into me, bottoming out in one fast thrust. Biting my lip I felt a little bit of discomfort because of the stretch but the pleasure from the foreplay helped.

"You can move." Mark lifted my chin up forcing me to look in his eyes as he slowly thrust out of me. Biting my lip I tried to hold back my moans, finally remembering that the boys were in the other room. But Mark had different plans.

Without warning Mark started thrusting into me quickly, his hips meeting mine causing the sound of my wetness, and skin on skin to echo throughout the room. His thrusts were powerful that if it weren't for him holding me in place I would've been up by the head board.

"You don't know how I long I've been waiting for this baby." His hand went from my chin, to holding my cheek rubbing his thumb across it. The moment becoming more intimate.

"You're so gorgeous, I wish you could see how you look right now. So needy. Your pussy is sucking me in, you're so tight." Leaning down so he was beside my ear, I could feel his breath hitting my neck. Felt myself squeeze around him when he let out a groan directly beside my ear.

"You're doing so good for me. So pretty, my pretty girl. All mine." His thrusts slowed but never lost any of their power.

"All mine, your pussy is mine. Your heart is mine, all of you." His words combined with how he was thrusting into me, caused my eyes to roll back. I felt a shiver through my body, I never thought sex with Mark would be this good.

Sitting up Mark grabbed my thighs, pushing them further back. Leaning forward he started his fast thrusts again, grinding against me when his dick was bottomed out. I felt my orgasm coming again faster than before. The way his dick was massaging my walls, and the sensitivity from the previous orgasm. Sliding my hand down I rubbed my clit in time with his thrusts.

"Daddy I-im cumming." I didn't even realize what I let slip, until Mark's thrust got impossibly faster. He pushed my legs farther back, causing his dick to hit deeper.

"Cum for me." After two more thrusts I felt my thighs start to shake, as my orgasm hit. A couple more thrusts, and then Mark pulled out, jerking himself quickly before cumming on my stomach.

Closing my eyes I took a deep breath, opening them when I felt something warm and wet against my stomach. Opening them I saw that Mark was cleaning me up with a wash rag. Tossing the wash rag on the floor Mark slid into bed with me, tugging a clean blanket over us. Pulling me into his chest, I felt myself instantly pass out.

-

Little did I know the Dreamies had left for their dorm, after hearing the first moan. Jaehyun, Johnny, Taeyong, and Yuta had come back to the 10th floor, and had actually heard the whole thing.

Johnny and Jaehyun were proud of him.

Yuta was turned on.

Taeyong was disappointed in everybody, and questions his life.

[ask-healthy-light]

After Celestia, who had entered the room just after Light had finished their explanations and story to Decaf and Banana, took a moment to breathe, and allowed herself to work through the overwhelming surge of emotions she experienced, Light, still taking deep breaths, for the energy in the room continued to hold its grasp upon them, walked over to her, and gently held her hoof.

A little while later, Luna appeared from the staircase, followed closely by Nox, Eclipse and Caff, and grasped at her chest before even managing to enter the room, and as her eyes began to well up rapidly, she sank through her legs, and laid on the ground, sobbing quietly and uncontrollably, only managing to be consoled slightly by Nox, who only just managed to hold in her tears herself.

As Caff and Eclipse, elated to see their friends and family alright after the tunnels collapsed, started to run towards the room, Light asked them to wait, warning them of the intense, overwhelming energy that emanated from the room, affecting everyone, no matter how strong they were, and though they only had somewhat of an idea of what caused it, they would try to explain.

After everyone mentally prepared themselves to enter the room of artefacts, only briefly stopping to look at the plaque upon the door to read what it was for, they sat down on the floor, making sure to tell Decaf and Banana about what was written when they took a seat, and patiently waited for Light to explain what they could, though they questioned why they had to stay in this room.

As Light took a seat upon a small desk, making sure to not touch any of the artefacts that stood upon it, they grabbed the book they first read from when entering the room, explaining that when they read what was written, many things fell in place for them, and they hoped that by reading it to them, it would help them understand this room, the book, and a familiar, yet foreign face.

"The first chapter", Light said, "starts as follows: "

Early Life My early life before I met the Princesses was uneventful. In fact, I was one of the very few stallions who never had their flank mark - as we called them back in the day. Honestly, back in those days, I was always alone. The family was never home much, Pa was always busy, and Ma…. She had more on her plate then I could ever handle. I didn't mind the solitude, for I had great company in the moon and stars, and though they weren't always around, I took comfort in the fact that I had them when I did. I'd often sing songs in an old clearing, where now the Castle of the Two Sisters stands, back when the area was just an empty clearing of grass, long before the Castle had been constructed. Sure, it was in the most dangerous part of the world back then, even more so compared to now, but it was mine, and it was the only place I could ever escape to. When I think back on it now, I was never really afraid of what was in the forest, as a part of me always wanted to find a wild Timberwolf, or perhaps, an Ursa Major, or any wild animal, really, or rather, for them to find me. At least, if that happened, I'd know what they wanted, as the only think they thought about was whether I was food, an enemy or a friend. I never had to guess with them, because they avoided me, just like I did with other ponies, and they with me. Turns out, it's true that animals just want to be left alone, which was the one thing I had in common with the wild beasts. Loneliness and solitude were the norm for me for a very long time. It wasn't until that one fateful night that I met them. Two mares, whom I had never seen nor met before, that I dare say were the most beautiful mares I had ever seen. And to think, if I stayed hidden from view, I never would have met them. At least, I wouldn't have, had it not been for that tree that fell on top of me. Written by: @thedumbguywithaheart43 Edited by: @jdeck306

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Banana Pie from @askbananapie Caff and Decaf from @askcaffeinehazard Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing

[sinceileftyoublog]

Hedvig Mollestad Interview: The Rhythm of Care

Photo by Kim Hiorthøy

BY JORDAN MAINZER

On her upcoming album Maternity Beat, Norwegian guitarist and composer Hedvig Mollestad redefines what it means to be maternal. Though she has two kids, her exploration of motherhood is not autobiographical, nor is it dependent on having children at all. Really, Mollestad boils the concept down to its essence: caring for something other than yourself.

Around the European migrant crisis of 2015/2016, Mollestad had her first child but was faced with images, whether on the news or in person, of immigrants from Syria coming to Europe to request asylum, many of whom had young children of their own. At the same time the unfortunate nativist aftereffects of the crisis arose around the world, Mollestad was beginning to feel like she needed to do something different with her music. She drafted Maternity Beat for the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra and pitched it to the Molde International Jazz Festival and Midtnorsk Jazzsenter. While they rejected it in 2017, they eventually accepted it for the Festival’s 60th anniversary in 2020, which, unlike so many other festivals that year, actually did go on, albeit at a much lower audience capacity. Last October, Mollestad and the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra recorded Maternity Beat, which finally sees release next Friday on Rune Grammofon.

Though the recorded version of Maternity Beat is a bit shorter due to studio time and vinyl constraints, the ideas are consistent: It’s a piece about how we support each other and help each other grow. Mollestad knew pretty early that she wanted to include spoken word, or at least voice, on the record, and from the very first track, we’re presented with what’s at stake: “Is there a boat on the horizon? / With mothers and children and fathers?” Atop rolling drums and sharp guitars, and eventually woodwinds that sound somewhat hopeful, we experience the rollercoaster of emotions brought upon by these images of desperation. “Do Re Mi Ma Ma” contains improvised nonsensical vocals that sound like a baby trying to say their first words, and clattering drums that are akin to how one might play with their toys. Eventually, the band picks back up, with horn blasts and searing guitar solos, the song developing in sophistication along the way. “Her Own Shape” is comparatively subdued, inspired by parents giving their children tools they need to create, with peaceful, wordless harmonies over bendy, exploratory guitars. 

But it’s “Donna Ovis Peppa” that’s the album’s centerpiece, touching on the brunt of the record’s themes. The title itself is inspired by the phrase Dona nobis pacem (“Grant us Peace”), which comes from the Agnus Dei section of the Roman Catholic mass. “Ovis” itself is a play on Ove, the name of the father of Mollestad’s childhood best friend, who was a big supporter of her as a child and was sick with cancer at the time Mollestad was writing Maternity Beat. “I had a little contact with his family...in spring of 2020,” Mollestad told me over Zoom a couple weeks ago. “I had this urge to make something in this music for him. That’s the 5/4 pattern in the middle. It’s made only for him and his family.” He ended up passing away the day before Mollestad and the Orchestra performed for the first time. The last part of the song’s title is, yes, inspired by Peppa Pig, whose instrumental theme you can hear in the song if you listen closely enough. Mollestad’s children loved Peppa Pig, and though they’re too old for it now, I guess she wanted to nod at least once to her own motherhood.

Read my conversation with Mollestad below, edited for length and clarity, in which we talk about the album’s themes, working as a guitarist with a large orchestra, and the distinctive cover art.

Since I Left You: Last time we were talking, you mentioned Maternity Beat in context of reading Dag Hoel’s Fred er ei det beste, about ammunition production in Norway. Now, I understand the context, you thinking about the world you want your child to grow up in. As such, this album is your first time exploring gender and motherhood in relation to your music, which you were reticent to do before. Why was that, and what changed?

Hedvig Mollestad: The main reason in the beginning was as simple as I thought it was very important for there to be female instrumentalists where [people] were only talking about their instruments and their craft, the subject of their music and guitar and art. Very often, I saw female musicians being asked to comment on their gender, and of course, male musicians never were. So I was very strict on that. Gender-related stuff wasn’t my expertise. My experience with it would have been a very selective voice to the matter. If someone wanted to know something about it, they could find some good feminist research about it.

Music and art today are fighting a lot against the media. At the same time, it’s a way of reaching people, as that’s the nature of music, to be heard by others if not necessarily everyone. You want to find a way of getting into the ears of people who appreciate it. But [the media] is also problematic because it’s taking away the focus from the music itself. Very many musicians have to work with the media to be there in the right way, and you have to produce and tell people you’ve done it and present it in a way. [The media] grasping into the places where the art is made and taking over a little bit. For that reason, I was trying to focus on the music. As it’s instrumental music, I don’t have lyrics I can pull meanings and philosophies from.

Now, as I’m 40 and a mother of two, I’ve understood that as a touring musician and a composer, it’s also important for others that mothers are visible as musicians. Now, I’m sharing a little bit more for both female and male musicians. Touring as a family member is hard. It’s very good for the community to be open about it and talk about it and share our experiences. I’m also in a position to be able to work with my music as it is. 

I was playing with my much beloved Trio for many many years. I started feeling that I wanted to make music for other kind of ensembles using other kinds of instruments and expressions. [I had the idea for Maternity Beat] very early in 2017, and I drafted it for the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra and the Festival. They didn’t pick it up at the time, but they picked it up a couple years later for their 60th anniversary. It took some time for it to come to live. I started to work on it and was supposed to work on it at the start of 2020. The pandemic came. The festival was so big, they decided to go through with it even though the capacity would be very low and very uncertain. I got to work on this February-June of 2020. The children were not in school. I spent time with them during the day when my boyfriend was working, and when he came home, I just left the house for my rehearsing and working space. I worked the evening and the night and came back. It was very focused and so undisturbed. It was such a good place to dig into another world, thematically and in terms of deeper structures and working them out all the way.

SILY: When did you start to think about motherhood and parenthood as it relates to the various social issues you explore on the album, like the migrant crisis?

HM: The idea for this music was first and foremost musical. I wanted to write for a big orchestra, and I wanted to put the guitar in a way that could drive it without taking up too much space and without being an instrument like the saxophone and the trumpets [that are] playing lines. The title Maternity Beat was very good to work from because it suggested rhythm and something that, yes, [has to do with] motherhood, but also mother earth. I wanted to connect it to my experiences, but I was also clear to myself from the beginning that it wasn’t going to exclude anyone. It’s not about being a mother; it’s about caring. What’s happening when you’re caring for someone or something? What’s waking us up to care for others? For people that have children, it could be parenthood, but it doesn’t necessarily have to me. Many people have bad relationships with their parents [or no parents] at all. [Maternity Beat] is a way of describing how we care and what makes us care. That’s the only thing we have in common. We all come from parents, but not all of us know them or like them.

When you’re a new mother, you’re very full of hormones, and it’s very overwhelming. Suddenly, another life is relying on you and your presence so much. That was very shocking for me as it is for very many new parents. There are so many parents and children around the world that have so many bigger issues than putting their kids to bed and making them go to sleep. When the migrant crisis happened in Norway in Europe in 2015/2016, that was when I had my first child. I found it very disturbing we were [having] this amazing experience at the same time there was a crisis for people in my situation. I was going around and making my baby fall asleep, but I felt like I wanted to go and help others because they really needed it. It’s a cliché, but with the loss of power you feel when a global crisis comes close, it feels meaningless to go on with your life and letting [the crisis] pass by on the side. So I didn’t want the album to be about [speaks in precious voice] my child and the beauty of life. It’s such a harsh contrast and still is.

SILY: Even though your music doesn’t usually have lyrics, this album does have passages of spoken word that allude to what you’re talking about. At what point during the creative process did you realize you wanted something more lyrical on here?

HM: I knew it quite early, because I was setting up what type of musicians I wanted to be a part of the project. I wanted to use vocalists for that purpose, not just to use their voice but to speak words that had meaning. I also knew very early I wanted the opening track to contain lyrics about the darkest part of this, to set the pace and get it over with. [laughs] For the first track, I was very inspired by Scott Walker and the opening of Tilt. It hasn’t been many years since I heard that for the first time. It made such an impression on me. The atmosphere that he creates, and the emotionlessness of the words. [sings] “Do I hear, 21, 21, 21.” There’s no metaphor. It’s very simple yet extremely powerful. I really wanted to go in that direction because the focus he managed to make there is really amazing. During the composing process, I wanted to have different theories in different parts of the music. I didn’t want it to be one big fat sausage. I wanted various things represented, both humorous and my experiences with motherhood. So I put in the words for when I thought [the music] needed it.

SILY: You really get at what you’re aiming for on “Her Own Shape”, which is about parents giving children the space and tools they need to thrive. That song is so spacious as compared to the rest of the record, almost like a canvas that demands to be filled.

HM: The words [on that song] are so very specific and filled up with serious meaning, the music cannot be as emotional as the text. It should be beautiful and easygoing, and a place for that lyric to be able to be what it is without too much disturbance.

SILY; Can you talk about the song “Do Re Mi Ma Ma”?

HM: The recorded version is a lot shorter than what we’re doing live. There’s a wonderful transition from the first part to the second. In general, [on the record], I was very specific for how the lyrics should be performed. I read them, recorded it how I wanted it to be, how short, etc. But I wanted to give [the vocalists] a task where they were a lot freer. So I thought, “Okay, what’s the [simplest] thing they could say?” It was, “ma.” So I gave them 5 minutes of improvisation. I said, “You can use 'ma,' but you have to avoid it sounding like 'mama,' at least for the first three minutes.” It was so funny and so interesting how they worked around that. I also wanted to have a bassline pattern that I could write so I could focus on the horns and trumpet section. “On The Horizon, Part 2″ has a lot of things happening with the band, very busy patterns with the guitar and the time signature changes. So I wanted to [follow it with] this very slow, bluesy bass riff where I could get the most out of the horns. That was a good thing to bring together with the vocalists.

SILY: You mentioned wanting to use the guitar in unexpected ways with this orchestra. Both of the singles, “All Flights Cancelled” and “On The Horizon, Part 2″, do that. When you think, “Guitar in a jazz orchestra,” you don’t necessarily hear the sounds of those two songs.

HM: “All Flights Cancelled” is a band song, with an A part and a B part. Rune Grammofon released that single first, but I think it’s the least orchestrated piece on the whole record because it’s only the band. I like it because it has a whole other mood than when we recorded it with the Trio. It was a good way to break everything up and bring back the focus to what I’m usually working on, which is the guitar in a band setting. [This time,] it was much more complex and involved a lot more composing. It was so hard to make it fit with the rest of the music. It had to be pointy and very audible. I’m not used to pointy and audible; I want to be broader. The tempo was quite high, and the time signature was changing. [The drummer] was really mixing the ingredients. That helped a lot with the role of the guitar, which had to be restricted.

SILY: I was also surprised by how much music from other regions of the world snuck in. “Donna Ovis Peppa” had some klezmer, and the hand percussion on “Maternity Sweep” was almost Latin. Was that intentional?

HM: I don’t think it was very intentional, but it was important for me to have percussion, other rhythmic impulses besides drums, to have another person go crazy on all these other rhythmic sounds. It’s an orchestra, and it should be in the drum section as well. The percussionist was instructed very little. He was encouraged to do what he thought would fit. Then we worked on it. We used congas and so many woodblocks! He was very free there. He’s amazing and eager and has so many ideas. He’s so vibrant and was working so hard. He was the one who left the studio the latest.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the cover art?

HM: I’ve been working with Kim [Hiorthøy] since the first record I released on Rune 11 years ago. When I signed there, cover art was one of the only things I couldn’t decide. They said, “Kim is making the covers, and he’s making them the way he wants. If you really hate it, you can tell me, and he’ll make another one, but if you just don’t like it, it’s not enough.” I was very cool with that because Kim is amazing. But I really wanted to have pictures on the covers. I talked to him about it, and he was cool about it. When we make new covers, we meet up, talk, maybe have a beer, hang around at some strange place. For the first cover, we did a lot of straight things. I showed him around my rehearsal room while he was taking photos. For the second, he came to a gig. For the third, we went to his very small studio. For the fourth, it was outside where I used to live. Then he came to the rehearsal space again. He’s into closed places.

When Maternity Beat came up, it was obvious it was something a little different, elevating on a philosophical level. I don’t know why, but I think he wanted to try another technique. He suggested we would do it in two processes. He would first take photos of me and then project it. I instantly liked that idea because it was very analog and something I could relate and connect to. He couldn’t fix it; he had to develop the film, make small [versions], and then we could meet up again. It was going to be a process that would take some time. I came back [to him] and brought my grandmother’s dress, and we tried different ways of projecting me on myself. It was another way of working with him. Of course, it took a lot more time, but it didn’t matter because it’s so nice to spend time with him. Whatever session I have with him, something extraordinary comes out of it. He has an eye for something else. He’s not looking for the face, or what the media tells us is beautiful. He’s looking for something very human, other structures in a photo. There’s so much to think about when I see all of his photos, which is so much better than having a big, fat face on the cover.

SILY: You mentioned “Do Re Mi Ma Ma” is a lot longer live. Are there any other stark differences between the recorded and live versions of these songs?

HM: Yeah. There are very many transitions that have been left out. There’s even a whole part with a lyric and an improvised piece that had to be left out because of time limitations both in the studio and on the vinyl. We haven’t performed this live more than twice, but it was a main idea to have transitions. “Do Re Mi Ma Ma” is one of them. There was a longer part in “On The Horizon, Part 1″ where Ingebjørg [Loe Bjørnstad] actually spoke in Norwegian. There was a solo bass transition at some point. For the record, I really wanted to shape and tighten things up because there was so much going on anyway. I was pleading on my knees to have a conductor. It was freaking impossible to play this piece and still get the most out of a horn section, putting them in where they were supposed to be. I was with the guitar in another room. We tried to do most of it as live as possible. But we had to move a little away from that because I couldn’t do all of those tasks. We [did get] a [conductor] who was working with the horn section--saxophone, trumpet, flute, and violin--and taking over the score. I really depended on him. He was really important in making the peaks as good as they are. I wouldn’t have managed to do that without him.

SILY: Do you have any upcoming dates playing this material?

HM: Yes, in a year. That’s because I have this big residency at a Norwegian festival in July, playing so many different shows with a lot of different projects. I’m going to have to work for 6 months. But next October, we’re going to have 5 shows in Europe. It could be that some of them have to be in Norway. It would be amazing to go to New York and play there. The Jazz Orchestra have played there. I really hope we can play this live.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, reading, or watching lately?

HM: I’ve started to only read newspapers since February. I stopped reading news online. It got to me. [But my decision] freed up a space inside of me, not worrying as much. I feel happier.

I’ve been listening a lot to Led Zeppelin lately, as well as a lot of fellow musicians in Norway.

I’ve been touring a lot.

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[sexen-sven]

Lucius malfoy

Warning this contains: smut, multiple orgasm, spanking, harsh words, knife play

Things you should know before you read:

(s/c) - skin colour

(h/c) - hair colour

(Y/n) - your name

(l/n) - last name ( your)

Somewhere below the Malfoy manor in a deep red room that was heavily enchanted with no escape laid a girl with beautiful (s/c) skin on the beautiful deep red silk sheets already pooled in her own cum and blood, chained by each extending limb to a post of the bed, blindfolded, and two thick silicon vibrating dildos from the Muggle word ranging from the sizes of 6-8 inches deeply shoved in her soaked cunt.

While the rest of her body was littered in either blue and purple bruises/hickeys, dried up blood, or wounds that were still slightly bleeding out.

In this very room all you could hear were the screaming and moans that erupted from this girls mouth as she tried to stop the dildos to continue letting her over stimulate yet again, none the less it was proven difficult with her legs being spread apart so nicely giving anyone who walked in a clear view of her throbbing pussy as she pulled against the chains on her arms

This girl was an order member and known as the black cat around the Wizarding word she was: y/n l/n

~ㅅ~

At the top of the Malfoy manor

It was quiet nothing but the quill being used to write by the head of the house hold; Lucius Malfoy. As the manor was nearly empty except for the few house elf's and their master, as his wife was out of town and his son far away at Hogwarts.

Stress and fed up with his work Lucius sighs as he runs a hand through his long, silky platinum blond hair.

"Bloody fudge...laying out all this work for me" Lucius mutter to him self but then thought back to his little slut, play toy, his mere pet being tortured by him to get more answers to the dark lord in a room beneath his office.

Smirking to himself he decided to go pay his little whore a visit. Tossing his papers aside he powerfully waved his hand over the floor right under his seat making the ground ever so slightly shaking a portion of it sliding off aside revealing a stair case to a darkly lit passage way.

A wave of his hand was all it took for the powerful dark wizard to open a securely, heavily guarded door charmed and casted with many spell.

Making his way down Lucius started to unbuckle his belt, loosen his robes, all while running his hand through his hair getting comfortable and ready to strip.

Reaching the final step Lucius look around seeing the familiar corridor lined up with candles alone each wall going in a liner path, a space for each door.

Each door had a different purpose but the one door with heavy metal plating and a secure surrounding was the one that Lucius had visited quite often.

As it's purpose was: his personal sex torture room

Lucius took long strides power defining every step he took and when he finally reached the room he waved his hand yet again and the door open.

~ㅅ~

with a swift movement and a thud of something heavy opening you gathered all your remaining energy and lifted your head to see if it was the the usual house elf to change your sheets or the one who was keeping you captive here.

With exhausted eyes Lucius came into your view,

"Ma-Master !" was what came out of the (h/c) girl mouth with a huff as it took some strength to even talk when there was so much pleasure pulsing through your veins.

Lucius just looked down towards where you laid and just smirks and stares at you and says nothing as he strips into his boxers.

You watch him walk over to you with his wand and he mumbles something under his breath that you couldn't quite catch but you knew what it was as you felt a rush pleasure forming a quick knot in you and near to breaking

He had just increased the speed of the dildos

"Ahhhh...mmm...I'm gonna cum" you scream out as you release your high

"Who said you could cum in my presence" Lucius asked you, no more like demanded for an answer

You cowered in fear and looked to the other side as you tried to avoid his terrifying gaze, but shivers still were sent down ur spine as you heard a louder voice, Lucius's louder voice thundering across the room asserting his dominance

"I asked you who let you cum in my bloody presence, do not make me repeat myself y/n" he demanded again

".... no one" you quietly mumbled out

He peered down at you "what" he question in disbelief while harshly grabbing your jaw turning it as he slowly caressed your lips

u looked anywhere but his eyes and then finally tried to yell out "no one master....I'm sorry master"

Smirking he looked at you "hmm...that's better you little cumslut" he harshly spat you

you whimpered as you felt his cold hand brutally

Rub your bud and soon enough slide both the dildos out and shoved two digits in instead and started thrusting in such a fast pace you just accepted it pushing ur hips forward moaning along the way

Every few moments he would rub his thumb over the open slit of your carven and trace around your pussy in a such a way teasing you further

Slowing adding another finger you we're going to have another orgasm

"Mmm...ahhh!! Let me cum!...please master!" You kept begging Lucius and you didn't want to repeat the same mistake

"Hold it" Lucius told you in a stern voice

Thick hot tears where streaking your cheeks as you tried to continue hold your high in for some more time

"I can't...ahhh...master" and you finally released after a lengthy moan

Lucius look at you with fury "didn't I say to hold it in you stupid whore"

With a rough force he grabbed each chain and broke it, then flipping you with your arse over his lap

"You deserve a punishment..*scoff* cumming twice in my presence without permission" Lucius said to you in a sly tone while he started caressing your ass, following with his rough hand then coming in contact with your ass turning it a bright shade red, a hand print taking form on one cheek

"Please Lucius I'm sorry...ahhh" you tried to beg but another slap was struck making ur butt slightly shake

"Ahhh...but that's not my name, and I thought I told you to count my little whore" he spat in a teasing but dominant manor

Once again spanking you

"mmm...th-..thre-" not even getting to finish, but Lucius already has stuck his hand harshly against your soft (s/c) skin

"FOUR eeep" you said through pain but pleasure was also laced through your voice

~ㅅ~

"haaa...haaa thir...thirty...ni- nine" you said breathlessly

With another spank already on your arse now looking blue and purple due to bruising in some area but still bright red covering most of it he caressed your ass one again like he had the few time through giving you, your punishment before slapping ur cheeks again

"For- forty...nghhh" you said with a dry mouth, tears running down your ass, but most of all you enjoyed every. last. S p a n k.

A amused hum escaped Lucius' lips as he caressed your ass yet again in a slow motion "have you learned our lesson hmmm y/n? " he questioned

"Mmm mhmm " you said muffled as you nodded with your head buried deep

"Mmmm let's reward you shall we" he told you with a grinned plastered on his gorgeous face as he walked over to a drawer (cabinet) and he skimmed his eye across the drawer and pick up a small sleek black and red butterfly knife and made his way back towards you.

In a fashionable manner he opened the knife and ran his hand over the under ur breast and gave you a slight squeeze on your right breast and he then started to crave in 'cum slut' in capital letters that made that area slightly bleed out.

As he carved that in your skin you felt a slight sting rush through your vein and you tried to get out of his hold but he places a firm hand on you

"Stop squirming y/n" He told you as he continues to crave into you

When finished he pushed you roughly with you ass sitting up in the air and in a swift movement he took his boxers off and without any warnings shives his thick lengthy cock into you and started to thrust without letting you catch your breath or adjust to his size.

Groaning while giving you no stop as he continues to pound into you while grabbing a hold of your waist with one arm and hold back both your arms with his other hand as you were screaming and moaning while he constantly hit your g spot over and over again, and you just couldn’t get enough, while you buried your head in deep into the deep red sheets as your eyes felt as if they were rolling into the back of your head and you’re toes curling and squeezed as your stomach churned in pleasure

~ㅅ~

After some time you felt him twitch and get sloppy and he just kept on going

While moaning you yelled out “ahhh...mmmm please master pleasee”

While continuing with a steady voice he asks “please what my toy, what do you want from your master, come on don’t be shy” he toyed with you

“mhmmm pleas cum on me master....fill me up with all your cum...ahhh ha” you said shamelessly not thinking about anything else but wanting him to release his thick hot seed all in you

He starts slowly but sloppily making his way up your body leaving wet hickeys behind earning very lewd moans from you as he then starts groaning in your ear while he cums in you

With a last thrust he pulls out and let’s go of your body and watches you collapse on to the bed having no support to hold you up and your legs shaking in bliss satisfaction

Lucius with a quick wave of his wand changes the sheets new and has the house elf clean you up while he watches your chest rise and fall as you sleep with a peaceful look his gets dressed, takes a seat right beside where you sleep, while gently brushing your hair aside, covering your body up but is shaken when he sees your body move and your arm wrap around him with a smile ghosting upon your lips as you continue to sleep

He decided he would stay there a bit longer until the house elf abruptly came into the room and announced with his head slightly bowing to his owners back “mistress has returned home master”

——————————————————————————

(not edited)

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that if you have any more requests I will try my best to write them I hope that you can give me feedback since I am a new writer please don’t be afraid to request