#Fear Free Tribe

[justwriterbritt]

Uncomfortable

Bishop Mark S. Filkey, and pastors Jake and Joel Filkey are teaching about, "The Uncomfortable."

[rebelscums]

Angel (Qimir x Jedi reader)

Part One of Angel

Ratings: Angst | Fluff

Summary: After the death of your master you begin to question the dark side and just who keeps appearing in your dreams…

The ringing in your head only grew as you opened your eyes. Your vision was blurry, but you knew that you were hanging from something… You drained your neck up to realize that it was a tree. You were stripped bare from your robes and something dropped slowly down your forehead past your nose… Blood.

“Master?” Your voice cracked as you called out to her.

The air felt thick and the smell of blood grew stronger, but you could hear her to your right.

“You must whisper, my padawan.” She whispered in the same predicament you were in, “It is hunting.”

“What is?” You whispered confused, hurt, and you knew you had a concussion, “What is going on?”

“They betrayed us and now they are offering us to the beast they fear from this jungle. It has already taken the other. We must remain vigilant and strong as we find a way out of us.”

You looked around, the moonlight brightening the forest floor just enough to see all of the blood and bones scattered everywhere.

Hours had passed as you both struggled to get out of your bindings without falling to the ground. You realized quickly that the tribe you were trying to help had drugged you heavily making it even harder to escape.

With the luck of the force, your master unblinded herself and swung over to one of the large branches on your tree.

“Stay still.” She requested as she began to untie your bindings, “Once you are free we will make a run towards the north river. Our shop is just across the river.”

“Okay.” You whispered as you began to feel the rope loosen.

“Almost…” Master Runh went to untie the rope. You were almost free… Almost.

It was so quick that you could barely see it grab your master between its large jaws and drag her down to the forest floor. Her screams echoed throughout the night as she yelled over and over…

“Run!”

Tears streamed down your face as you watched her get torn apart. Struggling to free the last not so you could help her… Save her… You needed to save her. You were so close.

“Master!” You cried out as her final breath left her body and through your tears you saw something or was it someone standing beside the beast over your dead master just watching you…

You jolted awake in your room with a startled gasp. It took you a moment for your brain to let you know that you were safe and it was only a dream, but but the wetness on your cheeks had let you know that you had been crying.

You quickly wiped your tears and went to the fresher to compose yourself. It had been a couple hours since you have been in hyper drive and you knew you would arrive to the next planet soon.

That means you had a bit of time to talk about your dream to Master Sol… Maybe he would have an answer for the mysterious figure.

“Master Sol.” You drew his attention away from the map he was looking at from where he sat at a table.

His tired eyes were now trained on you, a calm look on his face as he greeted you with a smile. He was an ever present and diligent master and you silently thought of how lucky Jecki was.

You have been missing master Runh dearly these days. She was a great master, someone that you could count on for anything. She was wise, and strong, and brave too… She aided and guided you as you grew up, leading you down the path of the Jedi. You were grateful to her for everything she has done for you. You believed in what it meant to be a Jedi.

Until she was killed a few months ago.

It wasn’t her fault, the two of you were betrayed and sold out by the tribe you were trying to help… It shook you to your core, leaving you with nightmares and sleepless nights. You could still hear her screams, see her body be torn to shreds by that horrible beast… A beast you barely ran away from with your life.

You remember it’s sharp claws digging into your right side, leaving you with a painful reminder of that night.

That was when the urges of darkness started to rise. A growing pain that settled in the pit of your stomach and rose to your throat almost like a scream. Your calm temper had grown shorter these days and with no other master willing to take you in during your last few months of training as you were too old and they were looking for someone with a more pliable mind.

You remember scoffing as you stood in the council room, an annoyed look suddenly spreading across your face. Not one free master would take you in so you could pass your trials. You almost threw a chair at the weak minded fools.

That was until you were placed in the care of Master Sol. He had graciously stepped up and offered to take you under his wing along with his current padawan. Master Runh was a dear friend of his and he refused to let her padawan be casted out.

“Yes?” He asked.

“My anger towards what happened to my master…” Your voice lowered into almost a whisper, “I feel as though it is getting worse.”

His gaze turned concerned as he lowered his voice, “I know what have you experience has been painful, but rage will only lead to the dark side. It was not your fault young padawan and I know that you will overcome this tragedy with great strength.”

“Thank you master, but my dreams…” You shivered as you remember them so vividly, “It’s always the same every night, but last night was different… It felt as if my master was warning me of someone.” You whispered, “There was…” A dark figure standing above my masters body.

My explanation was cut short as his former padawan butted into the conversation, “We’re nearly there. I was hoping you and I could talk before we go find Master Torbin?” Osha asked master Sol.

A torn look spread across his face as he tried to choose who he wants to help more… The sinking feeling in your gut at him looking back at Osha sealed your fate.

He started to say, “Maybe we could…” continue this another time.

It was the same thing you heard before and you raised your hand to stop him, “It’s alright. I should probably go get ready anyways.” You stood up from your seat and Osha quickly took your place.

“Another time.” He said again, an urgency in his voice.

You didn’t spare him another glance as you walked away, “Sure.” You knew you wouldn’t talk about it again.

You thought back to the figure in your dream as you followed after the group. Yord fell into step with you as he kept a watchful eye out.

“Your lost in thought.” He mentioned which seemed to work in snapping you out of your daze.

“I’m just worried for master Torbin.” You lied and a part of you hated the feeling, but you felt that it was necessary to keep the figure to yourself for now. At least until you can find out more about it.

“Mae has already killed Master Indara.” You continued, “Who knows what she is capable of.”

“The Jedi do not judge someone we do not know.” He said and his words twisted a not in your heart, “But I am confident that we will get to him in time.” He glanced at you, “There is no need to worry.”

His confidence made you cringe. How could I not worry when there was a Jedi killing assassin on the loose? Is no one here concerned? You thought.

It was safe to say that Jord’s plan to confront the mystery man was stupid.

“Or we skip that and she just talks to him.” Jecki said, “If he’s Mae’s accomplice, we can send her in. She can talk to him and we can record and monitor the conversation that way we have a lead on Mae plus we also get a confession from him. Seems like the most logical way.”

“That sounds like the better option out of the two.” You agreed.

“I’m in.” Mae nodded her head as she stepped forward.

“We will follow your plan padawan. It’s a good one.” Master Sol agreed.

That was all that was needed to spring into action on our mission. You watched as Osha stepped into the shop.

“Hello there.” You could hear her say over comms.

“Oh… Hello.” His voice sounded… Chipper. It seemed that he was happy to see her. Maybe he and Mae do know each other on a deeper level?

“Hi…” Osha’s voice trailed off as she seemed unsure of what to say.

“Hi?” His tone now held confusion to it.

“Come on Osha.” You muttered praying to the force with words of encouragement.

He continued sounding concerned, “You alright? You’re back so early?”

“I wanted to see you…”

“See me? Oh?” His light chuckle sent a pleasant chill you didn’t know the exact reason for, “Mae… Are you okay? Did the poison work?”

“That’s it.” Jecki looked up from the comms ready to go, “That’s all we need.”

“Pull her out.” Yord stated taking out his lightsaber.

You also made motion to grab your lightsaber, ready to head into the shop and confront the mysterious man before Sol put his arm out to stop you.

“Wait!” Master Sol’s sharp word had you, Yord, and Jecki all freeze in place. The four of you paid closer attention to the comm.

“You’re acting so strange…” The man spoke through the comms. There was a pause, as if he was assessing something about Osha, “Wait.”

Please don’t figure out she’s not Mae… You thought with worry.

“You killed Torbin without the poison.” He assessed with a light tone to his voice, “He will be so pleased.”

That seemed to be all Master Sol needed to hear as he said, “Go.” And pushed his group towards the man and Osha.

He was different than you expected him to be. A good way perhaps… He was easy on the eyes for a smuggler or was he a dealer? You weren’t sure. What you did know was how quick he was to sell out Mae.

You stayed partially hidden behind Jord. Your hood was up and your hand remained on your lightsaber as the stranger continued to explain himself.

“Wait wait…” He stumbled over his words as he tried to explain, “That isn’t my thing. This is her. I didn’t know what she was going to do with that stuff.”

“If you cooperate. We will consider letting you go with a warning.” Master Sol walked around him, assessing if he was a threat.

The man clasped his hands together, “Okay! Thank you! Thank you sir, ah… Please don’t do the memory wipe thing or whatever it is you guys do.” He held his hands up in surrender as he followed Master Sol’s movements.

You studied his movements, they were graceful compared to the nervous way he spoke.

“What is your relationship to Mae?” Was the first question Master Sol asked.

“I’m just her supplier.” He explained quickly walking around the room and using his hands as he spoke, “Yeah, I started out gun running for the hits and now I supply people like her with what they need. For the right price.”

He seemed to calm but too fidgety at the same time as if it were almost forced…

“Well maybe you could supply us with the truth.” Jord’s voice was stern and left no room for debate.

You hid further behind his stance as the man turned around. Not ready to reveal that you have been studying him intently to see if he was telling the truth or stalling for time…

“Who is he?” Master Sol asked.

The man gave him a confused look, “Ah… I? I thought he was with you?” He asked pointing back at Jord.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped past your lips, but quickly stifled it as his amused gaze tried to find your behind Jord’s frame.

Master Sol didn’t find it funny as he continued, “Does Mae have a master? Is someone training her?”

“Listen I have no idea what’s going on with that girl.” He stepped towards Master Sol, “All I know… Is that she wants revenge on four Jedi.”

The room fell silent as a grave realization settled… Four Jedi was stationed on Osha and Mae’s planet and Master Sol was one of them…

His eyes widened as an idea sparked, “If you want to get to her, she’ll be back here tonight. I’m holding some things for her.”

“Jord. Secure the perimeter. Keep an eye out for Mae.” Master Sol ordered, “Jecki get to the ship. Mae, you are coming with me and…”

Your heart beat quickly in your chest as Master Sol looked in your direction, “You will stay here and make sure that he does not try to escape.”

“But—“ Your pleas were left unanswered as he gave you a look. You bit your tongue and nodded, “Yes master.”

“Good. Let us go.” Master Sol stated, “Mae will be here soon.”

You watched with a knot in your stomach as your group left. How could they just leave me here alone with a stranger? You thought as you clenched and unclenched your right fist to try and keep your nerves at bay.

You tried to take a calming breath. You are a Jedi. You can guard an unarmed man. He couldn’t hurt you. This will go smoothly without any problem… You squeezed your eyes shut as the screams of your master rang through your ears.

You were alone then too… You but your biotin lip, grateful that your hood hid your face as you stared longingly at the door. You didn’t want to be left alone with a stranger… You couldn’t handle it, not again. Your breathing began to pick up, something that the stranger noticed immediately.

“So…” He spoke in an airy tone in an attempt to lighten the mood and get your mind off of whatever you were thinking about, “Who might you be Angel?”

[swivi]

Be warned. This is my first time writing something like this, so it may contain some errors. I was actually quite stressed while writing this and didn't want to disappoint anyone so..if you have any suggestions. Feel free to send them to me. Just no hate please and thank you..enjoy🩷

The almighty k'uhul Ajaw is tired of you both being oblivious.

It started as a joke, Ajaw would see you both being close and then proceed to mock kinich about how obvious his crush was for you. Now it was just tiring. It was safe to say the Almighty k'uhul Ajaw was at his limits.

First strike

You both had decided to hang out with each other at a new resturant and ajaw had to come along because of this stupid contract with Kinich...Oh the humiliation he thought. Having to watch you both throw "secret" glances at each other was actually driving him insane. "How much longer?" Safe to say Ajaw could not find his appetite that day. It was true torture for the poor pixel dragon lord.

Second strike

You both getting jealous easily. Whether it was from him talking to mualani and {{name}} getting jealous or you talking to the traveler and him getting jealous. It would never end..The almighty k'uhul was actually close to his limit.

It was another day at the Scions of the Canopy and the traveler and paimon had decided to come over for a visit. While on the way, they bumped into both you and Kinich, who both seemed to be happily walking away..well you were doing the talking while he listened.

As the two walked closer, paimon couldn't help but speak. "Hey..doesn't Kinich seem a little more softer when talking to {{name}}? It's actually quite funny..", The traveler nodded along seemingly getting her point. As the two slowly made their way over to the two people talking. Seeing the traveler and paimon, you quickly waved them over with a smile.

Quickly forgetting about what you were walking about as you conversed with the traveler. It was quite obvious that kinich was glaring at the two and paimon couldn't help but sweat nervously floating over to the traveler. "H-hey...Paimon thinks we should go..", Paimon nervously whisperied to the traveler. The traveler seemed confused at first, before finally feeling the glare as they glanced over, some of the passing tribe members also seemed to be quite scared as they throwed nervous glances at something. The Traveler slowly turned around and, there and behold stood Kinich. He seemed rather calm, but something about how he was staring at the two without blinking was actually quite scary. It basically screamed "Leave before I make you."

Safe to say the two quickly made a excuse to quickly go. Leaving a confused {{user}}, a seemingly happy Kinich and a frustrated Ajaw that had to witness the entire thing.

As the traveler and Paimon walked off, Paimon finally broke down. "That was so scary..Paimon thought she was gonna die!". Paimon yelled in slight fear and panic. For the first time, the traveler seemed to agree as they both scurried away for their lives

Third strike(Final strike)

Everyone has their limits..even the small Pixel dragon that claims to be a god.

Kinich had finally decided to ask you out on a date after 7 long months. To which you agreed to, excited yet nervous at the same time. The date was meant to be on a nearby cliff, when the sun was going down and the world fell almost completely silent. And completely silent it was as none of you had gotten the courage to talk to each other, leading the setting to be quite awkward. That's when he finally had enough, even watching a group of ants would be more entertaining than watching two awkward adults.

Ajaw was practically bright red, as he finally went on a rant. "God! Can you both be anymore dense!? Kinich likes you, he thinks about you every night and almost every thing he sees reminds you of him. And you...", Ajaw turned his pixel body to you. "Your both so obvious that even the saurians probably know you like him! The almighty k'uhul Ajaw is tired of this you hear me tired! He deman-" As quickly as he appeared, the pixel dragon was now nowhere to be seen clearly put in time out as a small sigh escapes Kinich's lips.

A tense silence filled the air around you both, with only the occasional sounds of the wind and birds flying off to god knows where. After what felt like forever. Kinich finally broke the silence, clearing his throat with a light blush present on his face. Kinich turned to you, for the first time...he actually looked quite nervous. Which was surprising. He was always to composed and calm time. As kinich turned to meet your eyes, he finally found it in himself to speak.

"I'm sorry about Ajaw..he can be quite annoying at times, although what he said was true..I've been quite tired of hiding my feelings for you and the truth is, I really like you {{name}}. I know I'm not one with words..and I can be quite blunt at times, but what I speak is only the truth. I really liked you..for quite a while now." Kinich spoke, his voice holding a unusually soft tone to it.

A few minutes later had passed, and it was obvious what had taken place as you both we're now sitting closer to each other. His hands holding yours, as you both looked off into the distance. Maybe having ajaw wasn't too bad, for the first time Kinich thought.

In another space

Ajaw was seen practically fuming with anger as he cursed Kinich in the darkness

"Curse you kinich! Just you wait...the almighty k'uhul Ajaw will have his revenge soon!" Ajaw yelled off in the darkness.

To be continued

"Next chapter: Ajaws plans of revenge"

[home-fire]

Stately Aphrodite, gold-crowned and beautiful… who subdues the tribes of mortal men and birds that fly in the air and all the many creatures that the dry land rears, and all the sea… in perfumed garments is clothed at all seasons, in crocus and hyacinth and flourishing violet and the rose's lovely bloom, and heavenly buds, the flowers of the narcissus and lily… diffusing the scent of cinnamon and bedewing the air with balsam… from whose cheeks shine unearthly beauty-- when men behold the awful, ever-lovely mien of Aphrodite, in fear they hide their faces and turn their eyes aside.

🌺🐚❤️‍🔥 e-offering to Aphrodite-- praise be to Her ❤️‍🔥🐚🌺

Dusk In The Garden, 2021 Jana Brike/Perseus Freeing Andromeda, 1611 Joachim Wtewael/The Birth of Venus, 2012 José Manuel Ballester (after Botticelli)

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How can you appreciate your body ?

I want to give you a hug ...

Good evening pretty soul ! I am so excited ... IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! DAY : 13-14

You want to have a sneak peak into my readings (for 2.22$), you can join my Chérie d'Amour (soul tribe)

SEX Doula =SALE READING

PILE 1

To appreciate your body more, begin by recognizing that the discomfort or doubts you're feeling are temporary. You’re not stuck, and by embracing the natural changes that come with life, you can start to see yourself with fresh eyes.

Use your inner wisdom to see through the insecurities that cloud your view. You’re sharp, perceptive, and capable of cutting through negative thoughts. Just as you respect your mind, show the same respect to your body. It deserves appreciation for its strength and uniqueness.

The habits or thoughts that have held you back are loosening their grip. This is your chance to free yourself from those old patterns, to accept your body in a way that liberates you. When you let go of that baggage, you’ll create space for something new—a healthy and loving connection with yourself.

Someone is about to enter your life, and this new relationship will reflect the love and acceptance you’re starting to cultivate within yourself. By embracing your body, you're preparing yourself for the affection and admiration that are headed your way.

💌 : Dear Chérie d'Amour, if you wanna to UNLOCK your sexual potential you can always join ''CHÉRIE D'AMOUR'' for only 2.22$/month you have access to audio pac, extended writing pac, collective pac. A place where we can build our little community. This week pac is : How can you give yourself self love in a sexual setting ?

PILE 2

To truly appreciate your body, start by giving yourself the kindness and care you deserve. You’ve likely been giving so much of yourself, but it's important to receive that love, too. This means recognizing your worth and treating yourself with the same generosity you give to others.

Right now, you’re holding on to past trauma, and it’s keeping you stuck. The trust issues you carry are impacting your relationship, but they come from old wounds, not from what’s happening in the present. Accusing your partner of things without proof isn’t helping; it’s only creating distance. You’ve been through a lot, and it's understandable that trust is hard for you, but by holding on to those fears, you're adding weight to the relationship that isn’t necessary.

You’re nurturing and strong, but it's important to nurture yourself, too. Give yourself permission to release the need for control or suspicion. When you stop letting your fears guide you, you’ll notice how much lighter things become. Your partner has shown you that they’re not doing the things you're afraid of, but until you trust yourself and the love in your relationship, these fears will keep resurfacing.

It’s time to slow down, reflect, and understand that your partner isn’t your past. The more you focus on healing and trusting, the more your relationship will thrive. By appreciating your body, you'll start to ground yourself in the present, letting go of those old habits that are no longer serving you. This will give both you and your partner the space to grow and love each other in a healthier way.

💌 : Dear Chérie d'Amour, if you wanna to UNLOCK your sexual potential you can always join ''CHÉRIE D'AMOUR'' for only 2.22$/month you have access to audio pac, extended writing pac, collective pac. A place where we can build our little community. This week pac is : How can you give yourself self love in a sexual setting ?

PILE 3

Okay, here’s the deal: to appreciate your body more, you need to stop thinking you're stuck in a cycle of feeling bad about it. That feeling? It’s temporary. Your body is always changing, and so can your thoughts about it.

You’re smart, and you know better than to keep being hard on yourself. It’s time to see your body the way you see your mind—strong and worth respecting. Don’t let your own negative thoughts drag you down.

Those old habits that made you doubt yourself? They're starting to fade. You're ready to let go of them and embrace your body for the amazing thing it is.

Once you do that, things will start falling into place. The universe has good things in store for you, but you need to clear out the doubts first. And guess what? There’s someone great coming into your life soon. By loving and accepting your body now, you’re making space for all the good things waiting for you.

💌 : Dear Chérie d'Amour, if you wanna to UNLOCK your sexual potential you can always join ''CHÉRIE D'AMOUR'' for only 2.22$/month you have access to audio pac, extended writing pac, collective pac. A place where we can build our little community. This week pac is : How can you give yourself self love in a sexual setting ?

[melzula]

Heyaa, when the requests are open can you maybe do a princess x Zuko where the princess is always clinging to Zuko when she's cold? Just a random thought that came into my mind since Zuko is a firebender hehe :)

pairing: zuko x princess!reader

a/n: this is technically part of the fire lilies series but can also be read as a solo piece independently

summary: princess and zuko go penguin sledding

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

The rush of cold wind against your cheeks is exhilarating as you glide down the snow covered hills. Your delighted laughter carries through the air and brings a smile to Zuko’s face as you enjoy a day penguin sledding out in the palace courtyards.

Being kidnapped by Gilak and having your life threatened once again had been a traumatic experience for both you and your boyfriend, so Hakoda and your mother had advised you take a much needed day off for yourself. He could handle the work of drafting plans for an eco friendly oil rig and the foreign embassies while Pakku and Katara took on the school for the time being. Though you were hesitant to take a day off knowing there was so much to be done, Zuko had been the one to finally convince you that you desperately needed a break.

Today would be his last day in the South before he had to return home, and so you figured the best way to spend your time together would be with a trip through memory lane. You hadn’t been penguin sledding together since you were kids, so it seemed like a good idea to both of you to revisit your favorite pastime from when you were children.

You slow to a stop as you reach the end of the hill and land onto the plush snow below you with a laugh. The chill of the ice sends shivers down your spine but you choose to ignore it. All the back and forth traveling you’ve been doing hasn’t allowed your body the chance to acclimate to the weather of your home yet, but you try not to let it bother you.

“Having fun?” Zuko asks with a laugh as he helps you up off the snow. You immediately cling to his figure in an attempt to steal some of his heat, prompting the Fire Lord to raise a brow as he wraps his arms around your frame. “You’re not getting cold, are you?”

“Of course not,” you scoff indignantly, though your subtle trembling says otherwise.

“Maybe we should head inside-“

“No!” You immediately cry out in protest before he can finish his sentence. “We’ve hardly just begun the day. Don’t you want to keep penguin sledding?”

“Of course I do,” he assures you with a comforting kunik, “but I worry the cold might be too much for you.

“Too much?! I’m Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, I don’t get cold.”

“Alright,” Zuko relents with a chuckle at your adamant rebuttal. For a water bender you’re surprisingly stubborn, but he loves your headstrong nature more than anything. “Let’s keep sledding.”

Your face lights up with glee when he finally relents and allows you to carefully pick up your penguin and carry him back up the hill while showering the creature with praises and pets. He’d forgotten just how much you enjoyed the activity, and it was nice to see that same smile from your childhood again. It had been years since you both went sledding, since you both were just two kids unaware of what the future held in store for you, since you both were free of fear and responsibility and hurt. The war had taken a lot from you, forced you both to grow up too fast, so he was grateful for the fact that you both could just be kids again, even if only for a day.

“Y/n,” Zuko calls as the sun begins to set and the day begins to end, “I think it’s time we head inside for dinner. Your mother said she was making five-flavor soup for us.”

“Just one more time down the hill?” You plead with your best pout, though you know it doesn’t take much to convince Zuko to give in to your requests.

“Alright, but that’s it,” he tells you with a chuckle before following you up the hill. The courtyard lanterns begin to glow beautifully below as the moon starts to overtake the sky, and you exchange playful smiles with one another before beginning your decent down the snow.

Zuko’s hair blows wildly away from his face, his grin the biggest you’ve ever seen it, and you’re so caught up in admiring him that you don’t even notice the large pile of snow you’re about to crash into.

“Princess, look out!” Zuko tries to warn you, but it’s too late. You can do nothing but pull the penguin to your chest and shield it from the impact as you collide into the snowy mound. The Fire Lord winces on your behalf before quickly rushing to your aid. The otter penguin emerges after a moment and shakes the snow off its body before waddling away, but you fail to do the same. Zuko has to dig through the slush to pull you out, and as he lifts you up and into his arms he’s able to feel just how cold to the touch you are.

“Th-Thhere’s s-snow e-every-wh-where,” you complain through chattering teeth as you wrap your arms as tightly around his neck as possible in a desperate attempt to feel his warmth.

“Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death,” he comforts while carrying your trembling figure back inside the palace. If not for Zuko’s body heat, you’d surely already be feeling the effects of hypothermia taking place.

Thankfully, your boyfriend is able to swiftly make it back inside the palace and carry you through the halls towards your room. The heat of Zuko’s embrace melts the ice inside your clothes, but the dampness only seems to worsen the feeling of cold. You shiver incessantly, and he can only look on guiltily as he tries his best to ease your discomfort.

Finally, he swings the door to your bedroom open and carefully sets you back on your feet before helping you remove your heavy coat. He sets the wet material aside to dry before coming up to your trembling figure and rubbing his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to spread heat across your limbs.

“I’ll go find your mother and tell her what happened. You stay here and get out of those clothes before you catch a cold,” he advises you with a meek smile, a red blush tinting his cheeks when he realizes he probably should have phrased his sentence more delicately. Zuko presses a tender kiss to your forehead before leaving to give you your privacy and shutting the door behind him.

Your skin feels like ice as you peel off the rest of your ensemble as quickly as you can. You were so used to beach days at Ember Island and swims in the lakes with your friends that you’d forgotten just how cold the water could be. Considering you grew up in the South, you’re a tad embarrassed to know how easily it gets to you now. You’d been away for so long, and even when you returned home you still found yourself venturing out often, so a part of you wondered if maybe you’d never fully readjust to the climate.

“Y/n?” A voice calls from the other side of the door followed by a gentle knock. “Zuko sent me to check on you. I have the warmest blanket I could find. May I come in?”

“Just a second, Mom,” you reply as you scramble to throw on a fresh set out of clothes and make yourself decent for visitors. After slipping into the warmest dress you can find, you open the door and allow her into your room.

“Someone got a little carried away penguin sledding, I hear,” she says with a teasing smile before draping the blanket around your shoulders. “You’re like ice! Thank spirits Zuko has that natural fire bending warmth to him or you might have frozen out there!”

“Yeah,” you murmur in agreement with a dejected frown, one that your mother notices right away.

“My little koala otter, what’s the matter?”

“I’m just a little embarrassed, I guess,” you admit with a sheepish laugh. “I thought I’d gotten over my aversion to the cold.”

“I think anyone who managed to get snow in their clothes would be cold,” she notes with a faint smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just happy to see you having fun again. You had to grow up very fast, something your father and I should have worked harder to prevent, so it’s nice to hear your laugh again and see you sledding like you did as a little girl.”

You smile at her words before pulling her into a tight hug, hoping the action conveys all your appreciation for her. Zuko walks in then with a tray of steaming five-flavor soup and tea in the hopes it will return some of your warmth to you.

“I’ll let you both enjoy your dinner alone,” she says after removing herself from your embrace. Exiting the room, she pauses to give Zuko’s arm a light squeeze. “Make sure she stays warm.”

“Yes, Kira,” he replies with a nod before returning his attention to you. “Let’s get you settled in.”

Setting the tray aside, Zuko escorts you back to bed and tucks the blanket around your figure as best as he can with you sitting up. Once you’re comfortable, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead before handing you the cup of tea. It’s the same cup from the set Iroh had gifted you some time ago, and the sight of it brings a faint smile to your face as you take in the smell of jasmine.

“You’re already starting to feel warmer,” Zuko notes pleasantly before trading your cup for the bowl of soup. “I should have warned you about that pile of snow sooner.”

“It’s okay, I don’t regret a thing. I had so much fun today, the most I’ve had in a while. I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry,” Zuko assures you as he uses his bending to reheat your tea before it can grow cold, “the day will come where we’ll never have to be apart ever again.”

“I can’t wait,” you confess with a smile only for it to fall at the sudden sneeze that leaves you.

“I think you might be catching a cold, my love,” Zuko notes with a frown.

“Will you stay and keep me warm?” You ask with a pleading look, one that makes it impossible for him to deny your request. How could he say no to your sweet face?

Climbing into bed with you, Zuko envelops himself around your figure and allows you to steal his warmth. He’ll never get tired of being your personal heater, and he’d be happy to spend the rest of his days like this.

You’ll never reacclimatize to the cold, because no matter where you go, Zuko will always be there to bring warmth to your life.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu @aerikim246 @heartfully10 @creationcitystreet-em

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @rinalsword @cipheress-to-k-pop @potato87123

[redundantz]

Ancient Loz AU Story

10,000 years before the events of BOTW the Princess of Hyrule and the Hero who wields the sword that seals the Darkness first fought off the Calamity. With the help of the Sheikah, Guardians, Champions and the Divine Beasts. However, the hero and her best friend; the Prince of the Gerudo, were now missing. The only one to return from the fight was the Princess… Bloodied and bruised. She emerged from the castle alone. No longer the energetic, and free spirited person she used to be. Now, she is filled with a sole dedication to her Kingdom. But cold, and filled with deep sorrow. She orders the Sheikah to create shrines to train the next hero.They prepare the towers, store the Guardians under the castle till they are needed. Research started on the slate where it can be used for building infrastructure and even battle. Anything to help prepare for another Calamity.

The Gerudo Prince wasn't seen again and the heroes identity was forgotten But, the Royal blood of Hylia lives on….

Link is from a traveling caravan. His family has blood from the ancient Zonai tribe. He travels with a decent size troupe along with his sister, father and grandmother.

He meets Zelda during a festival where he was entering an archery contest in castletown. Zelda, who was disguised as Sheik, was also entering. She beat him at the contest(barely), but was extremely bothered by how good he was.

The festival goes on for about 3 days and at the end there is the sword ceremony where all the people coming of age(18) can attempt to pull the sword. She was presiding over it and witnessed him pull the sword and his whole life change. Not long after they meet officially and Link is appointed as her Knight; She introduces him to Ganondorf, her best friend from childhood.

And the chaos and comrade-ere ensues~

Over 3 years they travel, train, fall in love and wait for the day when the evil is supposed to show itself. With no sign of the great evil, they start to relax a bit. But that is when it strikes. Ganon travelling by himself at this time. Explores a cave in the Gerudo desert and encounters something ominous. Whispers in the dark speak to him and his fears and wants and his distaste for the King of Hyrule…. The voice is familiar, much too familiar, and before he can fight back it consumes him. When he awakes he is alone. He isn't instantly ‘evil’ but over time it twists his thoughts and actions. His closest friends and mother grow concerned. He becomes harsher and radical. Cruel. During a secret meeting with the King, Ganon assassinates him. Zelda happens upon Ganon covered in blood. She thinks he's hurt and is concerned by his behavior the past year. He snaps. He tells her every dark thing he has been thinking, and that he killed her father. In shock, and devastated, she can’t move as Ganon is about to strike her. But Link manages to get to her in time because the master sword was glowing, something he has never seen before but an instinct so old took over him. He races to escape with her. Ganon takes over the castle. But only as a steward because the King and the Princess are nowhere to be found. No one is the wiser to his malevolent plots. Yet. He knows she has to act fast since Zelda and Link escaped.

Zelda and Link make it all the way to Kakariko Village and Impa and they are all Informed that the Calamity is upon them. No one can believe it is their Ganondorf who is doing this but it is undeniable. They grieve, but they must act fast. With the help of the Sheikah they gather the guardians, monks and send word to the Races and Champions to prepare for battle. Zelda listens as Link hums an old Zonai Lullaby his mother used to sing to him. And it makes her remember something she read about. A story about there being an ancient Zonai device below the castle that would help defeat the Demon King.

Impa knows the tunnels She can help them sneak in. So they prepare to infiltrate the castle.

Under the castle they find the Zonai Artifacts that were left behind for sealing the great evil.

Ganon's followers saw them enter however and informed him. Knowing this is his chance he stops all pretenses and releases his power. Unleashing a mob of monsters and a cloud of malace into the castle and across Hyrule. But the Champions and Shekah are prepared to meet them.

Looking around for any clue. Trying to think of anything they read or that Link heard from his family that could be used to turn on the sealing jewelry. They don’t know how to activate it, but Ganon is going to be upon them soon as they had to fight through hordes of monsters beforehand.

Out of the dark behind them he emerges.

Zelda and Link manage to avoid the surprise attack. They both go on the defensive. They fight and try to reason with him. They can’t believe this is their friend, their lover. The fight is tough, because they all know each other's moves after training together for years along with the emotional turmoil. Zelda tells Link he needs to figure out how to activate the artifact if they are to succeed. She will hold him off. But by this point they are both exhausted.

Ganon manages to cut Link, spraying blood over the floor and the statue. Link falls to the floor and Ganon towers over him ready to strike him down, but Zelda blasts him away. Ganon turns his attention to her. Annoyed with her meddling and manages to land a blow on her also. Cutting the tip of her right ear off.

The statue lights up from the blood. The blood of a zonai. That  was another part of the Lullaby from Links family Zelda realizes. The Jewelry glows and expands before flying off the wrists of the statue to Link. He is surrounded by a green glowing light that blasts Ganon and Zelda back. The bands constrict around his arms and legs disintegrating the clothing underneath. He screams. Zelda watches on in horror as Link transforms before her. His skin is turning black and his bones and skin stretch until he is 6 ft tall. What did she get him into? This was supposed to help them what was happening… She is living in a nightmare. What else will she have to give up. She cries as she looks at him, feeling his pain and fear. His hair band she had given him falls from his hair. Rolling across the floor towards her. “..Zelda….” He says 

She picks up the hair band and goes to him! But he is not really responding. He is restrained and struggling within himself. His head is filled with the spirits of the Zonai he knows what he must do…he knows this is the last time he will see Zelda and Ganon. To seal the Demon King he must sacrifice himself. He says the last part of the Lullaby to Zelda and she knows. This is it. She kisses him. Though a bit strange now that he's so tall and his lips are cold. Ganon is getting up across the cavern from them, laughing. He mocks them and their weak attempts at thwarting him. One last clash. Zelda manages to get his weapon from him and Link plunges his arm into Ganons chest activating the sealing power. Glowing green. They both freeze in place and all is quiet. Entombed under the castle. The malice and monsters disappear. Zelda cautiously goes up to them. She doesn't touch them lest she break the spell somehow. The only thing she does is grab the hair bangle that fell to the floor in the final fight. It was the one from Ganon’s hair. And she left for the surface.

Alone.

Thanks for Reading! <3

[myherobkg]

THE ROLE OF A LIFETIME; dungeons & dragons au

Katsuki was born a half-giant and bred to roam the plains with his barbarian brethren. He was a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, reckless brute adorned in fur and armor with his mighty mace hanging over his back. He was born to rule them all.

But fate had other plans, and his tribe was wiped off the face of the Earth after the King of the skies razed hellfire on them. Returning from a hunt, Katsuki arrived at his decimated home, ruined to ash and rubble.

His family—his people—were there one moment and gone the next, reduced to charred statues. After that, Katsuki wandered aimlessly until he became enthralled by the allure of alcohol.

A young half-giant, the last of his tribe, turned to mercenary work to fund his gluttony.

Katsuki's last payment came from a clean-up job, clearing out a small wooded area infested with monsters. The small village on the outskirts of the wood sent for him, requesting his help for a large sum.

It was an easy feat for a warrior of his stature, and his success wrought fruitful results—a free room at the pub and all the drinks he could ask for.

However, the offer had its contingencies, and Katsuki was forced to enjoy his pints amidst the celebration held for the village people. That's where he met the Businessman.

The Businessman kept two men at his side as he sat down with Katsuki. His companions remained standing behind him.

"Enjoying the festivities, Warrior?" The man started the conversation cryptically.

Katsuki doesn't look up from his pint. The party raged around him, but no one dared touch him in passing. "No."

Clearing his throat, the man decided to skip the niceties. "I have a job for you."

"Not interested," Katsuki gruffs out before touching his lips to the rim.

"I will pay you 100 gold," the Businessman bid.

"I want 300." Katsuki slammed his glass on the table and signaled for another. The man's jaw dropped.

"300 is outrageous. It's a simple delivery to the Earl." He laughed pathetically. "I'm sure the Earl will reward you handsomely for your efficiency."

"You pay me 300 now. I'll have the Earl pay me 500 when I get there."

"So, you'll take the job?" The Businessman clenched his hands into fists with a broad smile before remembering Katsuki's rate. "If you come with us, we can pay for the cargo. However, you must leave tonight."

Katsuki froze, lifting his topped-off drink. "Make it 400."

The man choked mid-breath. "Warrior, I implore you to reconsider your price. Think of the honor you'd receive for escorting such an important gift for nobility."

Katsuki lugged half of his drink down, spilling some down the sides of his face and neck. "It's 400, or you shut the hell up and quit bothering me." His ruby-red eyes glimmered dangerously in the lamp-light.

The Businessman shrank in his seat and waved his hand for his men. The guard on his right went off to get the payment.

"If you wouldn't mind following us as quickly as you can," the Businessman murmured nervously, avoiding direct eye contact. "We can settle you with the cargo, and you can be on your way."

Katsuki looked at the weak man standing behind his employer. It wouldn't take any effort to throw that man through the ceiling, but it somehow felt appealing for the Businessman to bring security.

With this in mind, Katsuki didn't expect any issues from a little side quest for money. Perhaps he was tired from his last battle, but the adrenaline and deep, crippling fear of loneliness kept pushing him to suppress it.

"Let's get this over with." He grumbled, disregarding his last sip of beer and pushing away from the table.

The Businessman and his guard led Katsuki outside to a barn on the edge of the village. The night was calm, and the skies were clear—a good omen for this task.

"The cargo is just inside here," the Businessman murmured, sharing an uneasy expression with his guard, which alerted a few alarms in Katsuki's head. As he led Katsuki in, the guard stayed outside the entrance.

The first thing Katsuki noticed was that there was no "cargo." Two more guards were standing inside, and you were chained to the floor. Your hair and face were dirty, and your clothes were covered in dirt and cow shit.

When you looked up at him, he took note of your cat-like eyes and pointed ears. The chains around your wrists had runes etched into them.

Magic?

"Is this a goddamn joke?" Katsuki asked loudly, making one of the guards flinch. "What do you goddamn hicks take me for?"

He turns on his heel and starts walking out when the Businessman shouts out for him.

Katsuki falters in his step, and something compels him to turn to turn around. He sees the Businessman sweating profusely—he must be desperate to get you off his hands, Katsuki thinks. He catches the two guards adjusting their grips on their weapons: a spear and a bow. The sight of them shaking in fear and regret almost makes Katsuki laugh.

He licks his lips and pulls out a dagger—decides it's expendable. When he winds his arm back, all three adversaries flinch, fearful of being the target. The knife flies through the air between their shoulders, aimed for the floor where your cuffs come together.

Katsuki's taken by surprise when you slam your wrist against the ground, breaking the cuff on your right in one attempt. You tear off the other cuff with ease. He stands back and watches you jump between each man, slaughtering them with your clumsy, desperate hands.

After the men are dead, you're left standing over their bodies with blood on your hands, panting heavily.

With his arms crossed, exuding confidence, Katsuki whistles for your attention. He knows he has it when your head turns, angling your ear to him.

"How did men like them get their hands on a magic-wielding elf?" He questions, sincerely curious.

You turn to face him fully, blood and hay falling from your tunic.

"Auction houses," you answer breathlessly, with sweat matting hair to your forehead. Wiping it out of your face, you trip on your shaky legs to the barn post and release a heavy sigh. "You would've delivered me to my sixth owner. You looked like a good one when you walked in, too."

You were still breathing heavily. Katsuki recognized it as panic.

"I'm not going back," you say quickly as he approaches you. Your eyes are wild, and your appearance makes you look hysterical.

"You aren't going back," he promises quietly, raising his hand for you. Your arm shakes when you reach for him.

When he brings his fur around your shoulders, you bat it away, spitefully refusing it.

"I want to leave," you whisper anxiously, pushing against Katsuki's arms.

"Then cover yourself," Katsuki orders firmly, wrapping his fur tightly around you. His fur, which drapes over his shoulder like a garment, wraps around you like a blanket. "There are still folk wandering everywhere."

"Where are we right now?" You ask as he ushers you out of the barn.

"A village. Heldenfaire," Katsuki answers.

"There's a town in this land. I wish for you to take me there."

"We can discuss the details of our arrangement later." Katsuki threw his cloak over his shoulders and pulled his hood over his head before steering you toward the nearby stables. "Let's first focus on getting a horse."

—please reblog & comment if you like it! do not copy or repost ©

[yuesya]

There are children running in the streets. Laughing, free and carefree, and the sound of their joy is a balm to Gunther’s ears.

Gunther straightens, a motion that’s accompanied by the sound of a popping joint in his back. Ah, these old bones of his are starting to become rather creaky, it seems. But the pain of his body is negligible in comparison to the lightness in his heart –this sort of brightness that floods his chest, at the sight of the happiness that they’ve managed to build for themselves here…

… under the protection of their young god.

From the moment that Lord Decarabian had accepted Gunther and his clan into her territory, everything changed. No longer were Gunther and his kinsmen forced to flee endlessly across the lands, escaping from one danger to the next as they struggled for survival. Here, they were finally able to rest, beneath the protection of a young god who was sympathetic to their plight.

A young, powerful god who was sympathetic to their suffering. Or at the very least… even if she was not sympathetic, she at least had not turned them away, when they’d bordered on the verge of extinction.

Word spread. Gunther and his clan were the first to arrive upon these lands, but they were not the last. Lord Decarabian rarely showed herself, but the corpses of monsters that attempted to trespass upon her lands were left to bleed out upon the ground in open warning, making her presence felt and heard in a way that few other gods benevolent towards humanity in these parts could match.

And for human tribes that had already experienced far too much suffering at the hands of the beasts that roamed these lands, the sanctuary that Lord Decarabian offered was a true haven.

There were no restrictions that Lord Decarabian placed upon them. No particular rules, no demands for any sacrifices or offerings, and anyone who wished to was permitted to leave.

Was it any surprise, then, that the number of Lord Decarabian’s people continued to grow? That those who enjoyed the god’s protection would decide to devote themselves to Lord Decarabian entirely of their own will?

Gunther had been here from the very beginning, when Lord Decarabian’s lands had consisted of little more than empty fields and barren trees. Under the efforts of the growing population, houses were raised from the ground, fields were cultivated, and…

And Gunther still remembers the early days, when everyone had worked tirelessly to build a new home together. New changes were constantly being made to the landscape, to the point where it was unrecognizable from what it had been when Gunther initially arrived–

There had been a single moment, when Gunther had looked up into the overhanging branches of a nearby tree. For no particular reason, really, merely a casual glance –and he’d seen her. Their young god, white-haired and pale-skinned, standing on the branches and hidden among the foliage… expressionlessly watching the humans bustle around below.

At this, Gunther had experienced a sharp jolt of fear. Lord Decarabian had said that humans were permitted to remain on her lands, but… had she given them permission to change these lands?

Then Gunther had blinked, and Lord Decarabian was gone. Nothing remained in the place where the young god had stood, save for the soft whistle of a stray breeze that filled in the resulting emptiness that came from the loss of her presence.

And in the following days, there was nothing that indicated any signs of displeasure from their god. Humans were permitted to continue building as they pleased, and a few days later, one of the scouts reported finding the corpse of a winged tiger in the grove to the north. A man-eating winged tiger, as Gunther and the others later find out from a new set of arrivals who’d lost a good number of kinsmen to the beast.

“May the Great Hunter watch over us all,” one of them murmurs fervently, kneeling in the dirt and touching their forehead to the ground. Lord Decarabian does not reveal themselves often, but there is no doubt that they are present. In every whisper of the passing wind, and in the blessing of every gust that sweeps through the air, felling any beast that dares to encroach upon her lands.

Lord Decarabian is not a warm, personable god. Not like the God of Fruits who is always full of smiles for her followers, nor the God of Fallen Leaves who always speaks in a gentle cadence.

Yet, there is no doubt in Gunther’s mind that the God of Storms who is the watchful guardian of these lands cares for the humans who seek shelter from her.

And with this, there is truly little else that one could ever need to ask for.

[rakhalofthestars]

Ikanaide

Synopsis: Ikanaide (いかないで) = Do not go. Words that you had used to plead with Boothill so he'd stay. Words that he used to plead with the heavens to not take all that he holds dear away from him.

Tags: Boothill x gn reader, Boothill's backstory, heavy angst and tragedy, Pre-cyborg Boothill, Established relationship, Boothill-centric

Warnings: Mentions of torture (Nothing graphic), cussing, major character death

wc: 2,5k

Varmints. All of them. They called his tribe savages. They had the audacity to call them uncivilised. As if they were any better. Would a civilised person have done what they had done to him?

The- What was it they called themselves again? Right. The IPC. The IPC thought they could get away with kicking his people out of their homes, disrespecting the soil his people had lived off of for centuries, and blaspheming against their beliefs. The IPC thought capturing a well-respected gunslinger like him, throwing him into a hoosegow and belting him, would break their spirits? That it would drive their twisted message home and stop his brothers and sisters in arms to back down?

Nay. If anything, it only further solidified their resolve to fight back. The IPC’s actions only made it abundantly clear that the cowboys must do everything in their power to drive away these devils from their home. 

These thoughts echoed in Boothill’s mind while he slowly dragged himself back home to the little wooden cottage just a ways from the farm he had grown up on. His body ached. Each step that he took felt as if he was getting stabbed by the prickly cacti that could be found on the sandy wastelands of Aeragan-Epharshel. However, it also served as a reminder that he was above snakes. Boothill had managed to run from the crowbar hotel but it had come at the cost of some of his fellow guerilla fighters to get arrested instead. He swore at the reminder. He’ll free them all. Their actions will not have been in vain, he’ll make sure of it. 

After what feels like hours, Boothill finally managed to reach the door to the cottage. He could hear faint humming from inside. The familiar tune brought a smile to his face despite the stinging pain that had the man on the verge of passing out. It was a tune that he had learned from Nick, a melody that Graey would hum in a wordless lullaby when he was still knee-high to a grasshopper to lull the rowdy boy back then to sleep. It was a tune that he had played on his guitar to serenade you on countless nights underneath the stars. One filled with warmth and love.

Raising one shaking (shaking? Why was he shaking? He’ll be fine. He has to be fine. For them. For everyone.) hand, Boothill knocks on the door. The humming stops. A shame, for now with the silent darkness of the moonless night shrouding him, Boothill was unsure whether he even was in the realm of consciousness anymore. Nay. He hears footsteps, hurried ones.

Without wasting another second, you rush forward and pull him into your arms, holding him in a warm and soft embrace. It was an embrace that he had come to associate with home. An embrace filled with so much love and gentleness that it made even a man as roughened up as him to go all soft and mushy. You just had that effect on him.

The door opens and Boothill stumbles back from it, lest he falls face first when it swings open. He sways on the spot and can only manage a half-smile half-grimace when you open the door and gasp.

“Boothill! Honey, what happened to yo-”

Your words are cut off due to the sight of Boothill swaying dangerously now on his feet. His vision was turning dark at the corners. Fuck, it hurt. Everything hurts.  

Boothill’s head slumps against your neck, breathing in the scent of the stew that you had been cooking and the mild, herbal scent of the soap you used. Even in his half-conscious state, the man could feel the worry and fear radiating off of you. Despite his condition, it brings a smile to his chapped and bruised lips. No matter how things changed, you continued to stay the same. His loving little worrywart. 

While Boothill was in his own little world, barely staying conscious, your heart was racing. The fabric of the grey shirt he was wearing felt oddly damp on his back. It didn’t make sense. Surely he hadn’t sweat so much on the way back? Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Wrong in the all the ways everything had been for the past couple weeks, ever since those strange men clad in black had stepped foot onto the planet you called home. 

You slowly remove one trembling hand from Boothill’s chiseled and broad back and bite back a scream. Your hand was damp with a faint, reddish liquid. Blood.

–

“Hon…what happened to you? Hon..? Boothill?”

You receive no answer and it’s then you realize that the cowboy’s body felt heavier and loose against you. He had passed out.

When Boothill finally comes to again, he hisses and groans in pain almost immediately. He blinked a couple of times, allowing his steely gray eyes to adjust to the lighting inside the wooden cottage. He was sitting up in your shared bed…well kinda. It’d be more accurate to say that he was slumped face first against the headboard. At least you had had the sense to wrap a softer headband around his forehead so it wouldn’t hurt as much. 

The man stirs and he hears you yelp from behind, cursing as his sudden movement has frightened you. 

“A warning next time, Boothill. Thank you,” you sigh. Boothill felt the raw skin of his back sting again and he hisses.

“ ‘Pologies, didn’t realize a man had to announce to the entire dadgum world that he’s awake,” is his dry reply. “The hell are ya doin’ anyways?” He tries to turn but regrets it immediately when a sharp stab of pain spreads across his body. 

Boothill can feel the heavy silence. He can hear the barrage of questions that were just waiting to spill from your lips. He can guess the assumptions in your mind. He knew you too well. 

“Don’t move, ya coot,” you chide him in a gentle voice. “What d’ya think I’m doin’? I’m clearly cleanin’ up yer wounds.”

Ah right. The wounds. Perhaps it’d be better to call them scars instead. There was no way those marks would ever fade, either physically or mentally.

“Look…”

“I’m lookin’ and I ain’t likin’ what I’m havin’ ta see.”

He rolls his eyes but welcomes the light humor, knowing it would fade once he explained himself.

“I got caught by them sons of bitches and- up up up. Lemme finish, will you? As I was sayin’, they arrested me and hauled me over to the good ol’ crowbar hotel.”

You frown to yourself while putting away the now dirty and damp rag, stained a brownish-red from the bloody scars.

“Well, it don’t explain the…the scars. What happened, darlin’?”

Boothill closes his eyes at the question, trying to block out the phantom sensations. Hands bound by rope. The crack of leather on skin. Raw flesh. Hoarse screams that echoed off the cold and grimy walls. 

“Don't work yerself into a frenzy over me, sweetpea,” Boothill murmurs against your lips. The response incurs a heavy sigh followed by a shorter, chaste kiss before you pull away.

“They belted me. Soaked a belt in saltwater and cleaned my plow. The assholes were questionin’ me, tried to get me to ‘fess up to where all the other resistance fighters were. What our plans were and to make us stop. The others…they sacrificed themselves so I could run.”

“Oh… Oh, my darlin’...” You shuffle closer to your beloved, gently turning his head and plant a kiss on his lips. Tender and languid with the lingering traces of his favorite malt juice and your favorite caramel sweets that he liked to buy for you. Just the way you both liked- no, loved it. 

“How can I not when this…” you gesture to the scars on his back, the dark skin raw and reddened from the torture inflicted. “When this is what they've done to you, what they're doing to our siblings and…what they might do to us.”

“We won't let ‘em. They raise their weapons against us to break our spirits but they don't know that our spirits are stronger than our skin.”

You were doubtful. You didn't say it out loud but the words were on the tip of your tongue. Boothill couldn't blame you for your doubts. The conflict was unlike anything that he had ever seen. 

A heavy silence permeated through the cottage, broken only by the sound of you getting off the bed and walking to a potted aloe vera plant. The man slowly shifts on the mattress so he could watch you.

You grab a small hunting knife that was beside the plant. It was one that Boothill had made for you. He had painstakingly carved the oak into a handle for the sharp blade and had branded your initials at the edge along with a little heart. Using the knife with practiced ease, you slice off an aloe leaf and come back to sit behind him.

“I've been thinking…” You begin, pulling back the dark green skin layer of the leaf while speaking. You dip your fingers into the clear gel and begin to carefully apply it to the scars on Boothill’s back, rubbing it in with gentle, circular motions.

“Is there really no other way?”

Boothill, who had already been relaxing under the soothing sensation of the aloe vera and your fingers, slumps. He had expected the question. He couldn’t blame you for it either. Hell, he wished there was an easier way to resolve this fight without any bloodshed. He had already lost a few members of his family and countless friends and siblings in arms. 

He didn't want to lose you too or the little 12 month old girl that had quietly stumbled into the room, her tiny feet pattering against the floorboards. Both you and the man soften at the sight of her stumbling in the same way Boothill had stumbled upon her a few months ago during the harsh winter. For a few moments, you both forget all about the gloom and doom of your situation, of your beloved home. 

“Well, hey there, sugarcube…” Boothill murmurs with a gentle smile on his lips. He stretches his arms out, catching the little girl as she slowly walks into them with little giggles sounding from her tiny little body all the while. Uncaring for his sore and aching muscles, he pulls her up onto the bed to join the two of you, holding her in his lap.

“I wish there was another way, really I do. But ya’ve seen that peace ain’t an option. Them sons of guns came here armed to the teeth. All they know is violence and we gotta fight back in a way they’ll understand,” Boothill finally answers, watching as his daughter played with the long white locks of his hair. 

“Y’should’ve seen her today… learned to walk just a few days ago and now all she does is put them tiny feet o’ hers to use,” you murmur fondly, continuing to treat Boothill’s scars to the best of your abilities. “She..was lookin’ for you the entire day. Kept on tryin’ ta ask where you was. I had no answer.”

As if right on cue, the small child in his arms babbles and peers up at him. He could just make out the little word she was trying to pronounce, “dada”. His heart felt heavy in his chest and he sighs. He hadn’t forgotten about your question from earlier. 

“Ya’ll see, darlin’. I’ll be in apple pie order in no time. Just need ta rest a bit and then, I’ll give ‘em hell, guns blazin’ and all. After all, there’s only two kinds of people in this world. Those with a gun and those who dig their own grave. We’ve got the shooting irons and soon, those varmints are gonna be the only ones rottin’ in a bone orchard.”

He was rambling again. Gabbing on and on without pausing. He was trying to comfort you but you got the vague feeling that he was also trying to comfort himself. 

Boothill could feel his heart shattering into pieces. Fuck…he really was a bastard to do this to you. To the little girl in his arms. What hurt worse was that you and him both knew his answer because your words, laced with love, desperation and fear, your gentle touch on his back that were soothing the raw skin more than any herbal remedy ever could, the child in his arms that looked at him as if he had hung up the stars in the night sky, these were all reminders of what he was fighting for, what was at stake should he give up now.

“...Do not go.”

“...What?”

“Don’t go… please. I…I dunno what I’ll do if one a’ these days, I’ll wake up an’ see that you ain’t here.”

“Sweetpea-”

“Death is the fairest form of grace. I wanna experience that grace with you. Stay, please. ”

Boothill was fighting for you, his daughter, his family, his siblings in arms, his tribe, the soil that he grew up on, his home.

In the melancholic silence that now filled the space, Boothill could hear Nick’s gruff voice resounding in his ears, the words further strengthening his resolve. 

"The water here is smooth as fine wine,

the cold snow is cutting like a knife,

this place is...

the perfect world."

– 

It burned. Everything was burning. The ground, the trees, the animals, the people. The conflagration consumed everything. 

Boothill felt as if he was burning too. The smoke burned within him. Was it the smoke or his rage? What was it that was suffocating his lungs, clawing its way inside him and threatening to consume him? 

He didn't know. He didn't know a damned thing. He didn't know whether his family was alive. Whether that little bundle that he had found in the snow was still alive. Aeons above, he hoped she was alive. She had just learned to walk. He didn't know whether you were alive. There was so much he still had left to do. He was supposed to take you into town and buy you the little trinket that you had been eyeing for a while. He was supposed to teach his little girl to play the guitar that he had made for her. He was supposed to have a little shooting match with his friends, pay Nick and Graey a visit, and fight off the beasts of the wilderness that now took the form of men clad in black. 

Boothill ran, trying to run from the screams of those around him, from his fears and from the smoke that was chasing after him the same way he'd be chasing after a certain IPC member in the years to come. 

He sounded his barbaric yell over the roofs of the world, echoing the same words that you had spoken- no, pleaded to him just days earlier. 

Do not go.

[justwriterbritt]

Faith for ordinary, everyday life, in your quiet moments, not in front of anyone but Jesus.

Bishop was preaching right to my heart tonight! 👏

More info here:

https://mywestcoastchurch.com

[thunder-opossum]

Woof. Okay guys. This is the rest of Sizzles story. I will still be drawing him, but I just want to tell his ending. Feel free to send asks and I will answer OOC.

So he leaves the shelter closest to the entrance of metroplis just as it closes, traping Artificer inside while he runs to warn the scavengers.

He jumps up the western wall, the one you'd usually leave the chieftains throne from. He gets pretty scraped up by narrowly avoiding spears and recklessly boosting into concrete. But he makes it.

Meanwhile, Artificer is exploding as much as she can to escape the shelter. This will leave her weekend but free.

Sizzle warns the chieftain. The chieftain's citizen ID drone labels Sizzle with the mark of the chieftain, adding to her understanding of Sizzle's situation. She is fully prepared to start sending elites tworads Artificer. However...

She's already here, much worse for wear, but burning with absolute fury. She doesn't even address Sizzle, charging straight for the chieftain, explosive spear in hand. Sizzle would most certainly end up with a new scar if Artificer had caught up to him earlier.

A fight ensues as Sizzle watches in horror, every second he is reminded of his life that lead him here. Every painful and joyful moment spent with Artificer or his tribe.

Artificer gets the best of the chieftain, splitting her mask in two, she raises a spear for one last blow...

And Sizzle tackles her to the ground. Rasing his own spear, his eyes tear up and his heart races. He stabs into Artificer's skull, killing her in an instant.

This scene is parallel to the one in this post where Sizzle kills a vulture to protect someone.

Sizzle is obviously left distraught. This was far from the hasty plan he made earlier. His mother was dead by his own hands. For all the pain she caused him, it was still difficult to come to terms with what he's done.

The chieftain comes to Sizzle's aid as he stumbles backwards. A karma flower blooms from Artificer's skull, quickly wilting, signifying permadeath. She was gone. Forever.

Sizzle is given one half of the chieftain's mast to signal his sacrifice. He lives among the chieftain, and her pup

Who bares a similar appearance and personality to Tangled Kelp.

Sizzle finds solace in this for the moment. So eventually, with his reputation restored, a key to Metropolis, and his freedom. He returns to Five Pebbles.

And that's really it. The rest of his days are spent hanging out with scavengers, helping deal with the damage Artificer left, and living his life. I'll do some stuff about who he meets (cannon characters) and how long he lives if you guys ask about it. It's not priority right now though.

Thanks for helping me through the motivation to finish this story, its been a blast to tell :3

Reminder that it's not the end of Sizzle content. I hope i gave you guys a good ending <3

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Sunlight (Trick or Treat #1- Kinktober)

Lady Jessica x Fem! Reader

MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: A quiet day in involves reminiscing and slow, devoted sex.

Kinks: Erotic lactation, sensual coupling.

Warnings: This is a trick or treat fic, so you might be in for more than you've bargained for. Read at your own risk, any kinks listed are the only kinks in the fic.

A/N: (See the bottom of the fic).

Word Count: 3.9k

Since the Holy War had begun, there were few places that felt untouched by the tragedy. Untouched by the despair that drew places and people into bitter vigil. All of Arrakis felt hollow, years of battle making the ever present sun almost ghostly. The sun no longer warmed your skin like you remembered it had on your first visit to the land of sand and spice. There were a few places that held onto memories from before Arrakis, places carefully crafted to remind the occupants of better, slower times. The quiet that had come before the storms.

Walking into Jessica’s chambers was like walking into a room at the old Atreides fortress on Caladan, so well constructed was the sentiment. The walls were lined with dark blue tapestries depicting waves and soft seascapes, each handmade and meticulously crafted to imbue that nostalgia. The floor was made of wood. It had been imported for a pretty penny, but it was real wood. Paul had done it for his mother when the fortress was being built. He’d done a lot for her, and it was clear from the craftsmanship of the room how much he loved her, how much you all loved her. The walls were exposed stone, artificially weathered to be smooth and inviting. It wasn’t the dark stone of the porous boulder that Castle Atreides had been carved out of, but it was a good substitute. And it smelled clean. Not stuffy and overpowering like the rest of the Fremen sietches, grainy and polluted by sand and sweat. Most beautiful of all was she, long brown hair falling down her back in soft waves as she read a book. Blue eyes scanning the text, lips pursed in her signature way. She looked good. Relaxed.

“Jessica.” you smiled, settling beside her on the couch.

Her eyes locked onto you, recognition devolving into tender affection.

“Lover.” 

Her arms were thin, but sculpted, and they cradled your body with soft reverence. The fabric of her dress was expensive, another luxury awarded to her by her ever-devoted son. One glance up and it was like you were back on Caladan again. Jessica’s face no longer bore the markings of the Fremen ritual, the markings that you’d memorized and traced on so many sleepless nights. She was no longer a Sayyadina, she no longer carried that burden, thus her face was free of such markings. The demotion hadn’t affected her, to what you could tell. She would always carry the burden of the Reverend Mother’s knowledge, that much she seemed to accept. And maybe that was why she didn’t need the duties, she had enough with Alia and Paul. Enough memories to keep her occupied for as long as she could bear them. But in this moment it was clear she wasn’t reminiscing, rather she simply existed in the moment. She almost hummed with soft energy. It was a beautiful thing, while it lasted. 

“I’ve been reading up on the tribes in the South. Paul has refused to let me see the death tolls, but I fear so many have been-” Jessica spoke, spiraling softly.

“Jessica, that’s not your concern.” you dismissed her, cupping her face. 

It was smoother than you remembered, but still littered with those soft freckles. Her face contorted into a soft frown, and her blue eyes didn’t land on you for some time. Cutting her off in the midst of one of her soft monologues wasn’t something you did often, but you did it frequently in recent months. She was no longer a Reverend Mother, she didn’t carry those burdens, she wasn’t meant to.

“It was once.”

You nodded, gently guiding her into her lap. She bent like a reed in the wind, resting into your comforting embrace. All of the little burdens she carried on her back, endless worries her mind created… You hated it. The Jessica you loved should never carry such troubles. 

“I was a lot of things.” Jessica finished, staring blankly at the far wall.

“Jessica, I want you to focus on something else.” you firmly spoke, leaning forwards to kiss her.

Her slow descent into depressive spirals was often contagious, so it needed to be stopped. She let out a startled sound as you kissed her, eventually melting into your advances. Her lips were soft and warm, but a little stiff. The distraction was old, a trick she was used to by now. But it caught her every time, causing her arms to droop, the muscles in her shoulders to go lax, even her breathing evened. Jessica’s tongue was wet and dexterous, if not a bit clumsy. But her hands were soft and warm against your cheeks, her nose brushing yours in that familiarly comforting way. And that was what broke your inhibitions, the need for propriety and distance in your love. Her hair felt like silk as you ran your fingers through it, her lips sweet, breath tinged with the smell of coffee. Every soft stroke of your cheek, the small little inhalations of breath she gave in between your sweet caresses of tongue and teeth, it reminded you of simpler times.

You focused on a particularly bawdy memory as you continued to kiss, one that inspired mood. A hot summer as your lady’s handmaid, the slow descent into nakedness as the two of you fought to cool off in her humid yali. The rise and fall of her breasts, how gorgeous she’d looked postpartum, a year or so it had been. And the smile she’d given, the flicker of amusement in her eyes as her finger cocked forwards, gesturing you to the bead of milk sliding down her breast. It had all been sweet, a forbidden delicacy partaken in during a moment of weakness on both of your parts. A minor relapse into the human; the selfish and carnal. 

“Suck, yes.” Jessica gasped, tangling her hands in your hair.

You remembered how the warmth of her breast had seeped into your face, more insufferable heat. Sweat dripped down your back, mirroring the sweat that dripped between her boobs. Salty and invigorating. Nothing like the bead of milk that landed on your tongue. You remembered how sweet it had been, how rich and… How Jessica’s.

“God, they’re so heavy, Alia isn’t weaning properly.” Jessica breathily complained, holding up her other breast to attempt to cool herself off.

She looked positively miserable. You both were. The sun penetrated everywhere, and you swore it wormed its way into the Fremen sietch. She was carrying too much fluid. That was bad. Storing it in your body was a temporary measure, one that would help Jessica. Her fingers tangled themselves in your hair, aided by the sweat of your scalp. Sweat everywhere, sweat and milk. You gulped down the first mouthful, the embarrassment of such a debaucherous act fading as you tasted the unforgettably delicious commodity that was her milk. Jessica’s back relaxed while her grip on your hair tightened, urging you forwards. The coming and going of others outside of Jessica’s yali hadn’t concerned you, neither did the threat of a hungry Alia. All that mattered was the soft pull and release of nursing, of nutrients, of passion.

This memory inspired mood.

The bed beneath you was cool, the internal arrangements of the rebuilt stronghold of Arrakeen were far more accommodating than her yali had been. Some nights you managed to feel a chill. Those were the nights you didn’t spend with Jessica, the nights where you weren’t tangled in her arms, trying to match the rise and fall of her chest as you slept.

Jessica was atop you, breathing heavily as you aligned your thigh in between her leg and hers in between yours. It should have alarmed you, how quickly the two of you devolved into such passionate entanglements. But this was the way you were designed, after all. This was the Jessica you remembered.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” Jessica admitted, beginning to rut against your thigh desperately. 

Sunlight streamed through the upper window, filtered by layers of tint. It was beautiful, and it covered Jessica’s body in a gorgeous glow. Of their own accord, your fingers began to trace each vertebrae of her spine, providing gentle stimulation to Jessica’s rutting.

“You’re not very receptive.” she teased. “I’m doing all the work, it’s very rude.”

Your eyes snapped up at hers, and you understood the hidden challenge.

“Oh, I’m not very receptive?” 

Jessica shrieked with laughter as you rolled her onto her back. You began to tickle her, starting behind her neck, then down her abdomen. Each little tickle caused her body to twitch and convulse, arms flailing uselessly as she gasped and giggled. Her neck craned upwards, face growing pink like the cherry blossoms of your home world. Her eyes sparkled with laughter, each little gasp causing her entire body to vibrate with contagious joy. She was beautiful like this, a magnificent creation of soft edges and hard foundations. It made you forget the evil of the world, the tragedies of the starving, the fate of the dying.

And then she began to moan. 

“Oh… Oh… Oh!” she gasped, eyes rolling shut as the tickling turned erotic.

All thoughts of melancholy, the inner guilt you carried on your shoulders at all hours of the day faded. Sisyphus was granted the momentary relief of falling, of sliding down the hill with his boulder before the toil began anew. That was the hold Jessica had on you. One sweet, muse crafted moan and you were set free from the realities of your environment. You ducked your head down, tasting the salty sweat that dripped down her sternum, like all those years ago. She’d long since weaned Alia. Her breasts sat small and firm against her chest. Sure, they had once been larger, more inviting, but they were still pretty. The change surely didn’t stop you from leaning forwards and capturing one.

Her nipple was soft and warm between your lips, as soft as the sounds that fell from her lips. Jessica’s hands drew over your back, fingernails digging into your skin just ever so, leaving their mark. You would leave your own mark, teeth softly nibbling at her nipple until it grew puffy and engorged, until her whines grew insistent and upset. Soft kisses and licks soothed the flesh, and her moans returned, breathier and husky. A subtle dance of teasing and torturing, one the two of you knew well.

“Other side.” she sighed, though her voice lacked the commands that had made up every word during her time as a Reverend Mother.

You complied slowly, pressing kisses to her sternum, taking a moment to feel her heartbeat against your lips. The beat was solid and familiar, one that momentarily distracted you. Only momentarily. You continued on, trailing kisses under her breast and wrapping your lips around an already stiff nipple. There was no milk to be had, no burst of sweetness, but there was the memory. You began to suckle, your hands splayed over her ribs as you worked, rolling the nibble in between your teeth, not half as rough as you’d been with the first side. Jessica sighed, adjusting her grip on your hair to slowly massage your scalp. Sensual, loving, comforting. You looked up, seeing the column of her neck elongate as she threw her head back in a moan that reverberated up from deep within her core. 

It was temporary, this particular attention. One sharp tug from Jessica, hand and your kisses trailed lower. The path was slow, you took your time to nibble at each of the defined valleys of her abs, flexing at your attentions. They almost stuttered in response to your soft kisses and nips, like the fluttering of bird wings. Her skin was less flavorful here, unaffected by the sweat that clung to her chest. You took a moment to savor her touch, tracing your tongue into her belly button to elicit a sweet giggle from her. The smiled you shared subverted the passion momentarily. Love made lovers, after all. She was perfect, soft and oh-so remarkable. Your mouth trailed lower.

The pubic hair that snuck up from her pubic bone was slightly damp, carrying a certain musk. It was different. She’d changed since she’d stopped feeding Alia, since she’d purposefully allowed menopause to set in. It hadn’t affected her sexual appetites, though. Yet. Another reason to savor this moment.

“Hand me that big pillow.” you murmured, kissing the crux between her torso and hip, nibbling softly at the divot there.

It was addicting, finding new places to love this woman, to honor the force that was Jessica Atreides.

Jessica obeyed your soft command, but in her own way. A thick pillow smacked across your head, and your chin hit her pubic bone. You both yelped in discomfort, and the two of you shared a glance.

“Stupid.” you glowered.

“Shut up and eat my pussy.” she retorted, giving an embarrassed smile.

You lifted your hands in mock surrender, slipping the thick pillow beneath her hips. It raised her up and did a lot for your neck. But you weren’t going to give her what she wanted just yet, oh no.

Taking a deep breath in, you leaned forwards starting just above her knee. Soft kisses working from her inner thigh up to her outer labia drew out the sweetest whines from her, and it gave you time to acquaint yourself with the new smell of Jessica. It wasn’t bad, just different. But her skin was still fun to nibble, and nibble you did. Jessica tangled her hands in your hair, pulling and jerking impatiently. She began to mutter under her breath in Chakobsa, a remnant of her past, you supposed. It didn’t bother you that she was cussing you out in a language you didn’t have true proficiency in, what bothered you was that she wasn’t moaning.

“Baby, what do you want?” you spoke, letting your breath hit her inflamed pussy.

Jessica’s breath hitched, and you swore her eyes dilated as she felt the first sliver of true stimulation. But that indicator of arousal was overshadowed by the curl of her lip as you refused to lean in further.

“Get to work, or so help me, I will do it myself.” she huffed, face red and upset.

“Empty threats.” you giggled.

It was enough teasing, really. With agonizing delicacy, you placed the tiniest kiss on her clit before parting her labia with your fingers. The smell hit you then, and you didn’t wince at its unfamiliarity; you wouldn’t dare. You dove in, as was instinct, and began lapping fervently at her fluttering entrance. The reward was the softest, sweetest moan she’d given that evening. It spurred you on further, until you were lost in her, lost in the sounds she made. Grunts, gasps, moans. All interspersed with the taste of her, the constant tugging of your hair. Her pubic curls tickled your nose, the smell of her sex concentrated. 

“Please! Yes… Right there, deeper.” Jessica huffed, desperately grinding her face against your mouth. 

Every undulation of her hips, every cuss word, both known and foreign that fell from her lips was proof of your success, the pleasure she was feeling. Your jaw ached, your nose moved from side to side as she ground her clit against it, but the feeling was worth the mild discomfort. No, the experience was worth the sensation. Jessica, your poor, sweet, tortured Jessica, thighs rippling as she clenched every muscle in her leg, abs rising and falling in time with her frantic breaths, nipples as hard as diamonds… It was a sight to remember. 

“Close, so fucking close… Oh.. OH!”

Her thighs clamped around her hair, and the threat of suffocation was one you shoved down in practiced disinterest. What mattered was holding her steady, holding her hips down so she didn’t buck too violently, rolling your head side to side so she could continue to grind her clit against it as your tongue plunged inside of her spongy canal. Her back bowed, head falling backwards in a tender curve of ecstasy. What mattered was her pleasure, the long moan that reverberated off of the walls, the sighs of relief as she slowly came down from her orgasm. Every muscle in her body went lax. You didn’t bother savoring her taste. Not this time, not when she was sprawled so organically in your bedsheets.

The world went still, and you just observed Jessica. The slowing rise and fall of her chest, the way her pelvis rested contentedly above the thick pillow beneath her hips. Sunlight streamed through the small windows above, bathing her in golden light. Your hands trailed up her stomach, you felt the softness there. Her ribs were hard and defined beneath the skin, and you traced over them, trying to recall if this too had changed. Her eyes flicked upwards, a confused pout on her face. The sun made this look natural too.

The desperate way you crawled upwards and embraced her wasn’t quick enough to subvert your grief, or the rising despair that crawled up with bile from your throat. It wasn’t the intimacy that triggered your cognitive dissonance, nor the underlying truth of Jessica’s lack of tattoos and minimal scars, it was the cognitive dissonance of seeing her so human.

“Jessica, come here.” you managed, wrapping your arms around her desperately.

Her eyes landed on you, and you tried to press your ear to her heart, trying to hear the soothing beat. It was firm and comforting, and it took away the ache for just a moment, but as soon as you buried your face in her neck once more, you could no longer fight the truth. 

Jessica didn’t smell like Jessica. 

And of course she wouldn’t. This wasn’t Jessica. Not really.

For all the months Paul had spent painstakingly creating the various pieces of the thinking machine, what he had never been able to get right for you, or anyone else, was the way Jessica had smelled. There was no way to capture her smell, after all, Paul had taken one mold and several scans of her body initially, but she’d been buried soon after. There was no one in your small inner circle that could bear seeing her face slowly fade from color, body growing bloated as the hot sun of the desert began to accelerate the natural decay of flesh. Paul was a genius, and he’d worked several miracles getting the machine to perform so faithfully. But as beautifully as the machine could replicate her laugh, her smile, the way she could flush and respond to stimulation, it couldn’t mimic her smell.

“...God, I miss you so much.” you whispered, fighting the urge to cry into its shoulder.

If you listened intently you could hear the whirring of the gears as it tilted its head, reaching up to stroke your hair in soft, too familiar gestures.

“I’m right here.” it whispered.

“No. Not really.”

The machine hugged you tighter, as you reflected. Its creation had been a blatant violation of imperial law, creating and shaping a machine that not only resembled a human mind, but attempted to mimic the mind of a woman long since lost. A crime such as this could have the machine dismantled and Paul under further fire, but Paul had been as heartbroken as you. As desperate.

“... I have her memories. Paul managed to give me those. I remember you. And I feel things for you.” it whispered, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“It’s not the same.” you sniffled, sitting up.

You pointed to a spot on her right arm.

“She had a birthmark right here. Small, like a bit of wine dropped and stained the skin a purple-brown.”

The machine blinked up in confusion at you. Such things could be fixed, and easily. A small bit of paint, and it would look more like Jessica.

“I know. I remember.” it said, voice soft and artificially intoned.

“You’re not her.”

The machine looked to the side for a moment, an imitation of the human process of collecting one’s thoughts. It was convincing, but from this angle you could see the way its eyes changed, the optics zooming in and out of the various possessions Jessica had around the room as it “thought”.

“No. Not completely.” it agreed.

It took all of your willpower to refrain from slumping into the bed. The thinking machine reached for you, manhandling you into the cuddle Jessica had so often put you in.

“I know this.” it said, voice hopeful.

You shut your eyes, stroking the back of her head. It was solid, but not quite her head shape, so you avoided the gesture most of the time. That was another thing Paul wasn’t able to replicate in addition to the minor scars and birthmarks. You were adding those as you remembered them, but the rock that had smashed her skull ruined any hope of an authentic reconstruction.

“Was she in pain when she died?” you whispered, pressing your face into her neck again.

It was a question you asked often, and the machine’s response was never dissimilar. You wondered if it had been programmed, or if the moment had been quick enough for Jessica to not ruminate on the sensation of her skull being cracked open by a rogue Sardaukar. 

“No.” the machine said simply. “Not the physical pain you think of. She thought of you. And Paul, little Alia. And Caladan.”

I shut my eyes, sniffling once. A hand came up to cradle me closer to it. Caladan. Jessica’s Caladan with the sea echoing off the cliffs and rain battering the metal roofs. 

“We did the right thing, burying her there?” 

The machine paused, gauging your mental state. It was capable of lying, you knew this. You’d caught it in lies several times, faux pas Jessica would never partake in. But you could tell that this answer was truthful.

“Yes. You did.” it answered, tilting its head to press its nose in your hair.

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath in. The room really did look like Castle Caladan, and you could swear for a moment that Jessica’s personal touch had been here. Perhaps it had slipped out of you when you picked out different decorations, when you’d placed trinkets that she would have enjoyed here and there. You pressed your ear to the machine’s artificial chest, listening to the heartbeat until you could believe it to be real. Until you were with Jessica again. It was a slow, exhaustingly long process to descend back into denial, but you did it. 

You shoved this moment down into your mind, into a box with other memories you wanted to forget. Finding Jessica dead in the sand, taking her hand and feeling it cold for the first time. Those awful things. But right now her hands were warm, and they cradled your face just as they had always done so. You looked up through teary eyes, and the eyes that looked back were without the stain of melange. Against your hand now, that was where you felt her heartbeat, the slow animation of life. The dimming light of evening blurred her features even more, and the warmth of her body became pronounced as the room rapidly cooled.

She didn’t speak a word as the two of you lay curled together in her large bed. Her arms never left your body, and the soft puff of breath upon your cheek lured you in further to the oblivion of sleep. 

In and out. In, out. In. Out. In… Out…

Jessica’s breathing evened.

<---->

A/N: This will be the only gut-wrenchingly sad fic of Kinktober. THis was a very dirty, mean trick, and I apologize to my fellow Jessica enthusiasts. Stay tuned for week three for a far more sexy and fun Jessica fic.

Tags: @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange @rosiesthehat

[losttrailsmaps]

Orc Tribe Map Pack

The Ironfist Tribe, known for their fierce warriors and shamanic traditions, dwell deep within the wasteland, where they harness the power of ancient blood rituals to protect their sacred lands. They are feared and respected for their unmatched prowess in battle and their brutal yet honorable code of conduct.

Greetings everyone, welcome to another map pack! It features 15 total maps, including fighting pits, tents, skull ravines, and much more.

Patrons get access to gridded/ungridded and watermark-free maps. The grid size of each map is 30x40.

Check out the map pack here.

[novankenn]

I fear for jaunes childhood when he is surrounded by all the crazy people

We find Mama Arc (Harley Quinn) sitting in the principal's office of Ansel's Elementary school. Once again dealing with the fall out of another "Arc Incident" with in the school.

Principal: Ms. Arc I'm sure you KNOW why I've asked for this meeting.

Mama Arc tilted her head, and appeared to be in deep thought, as she say demurely in the chair facing the Principal's cluttered desk.

Principal: Ms. Arc?

Mama Arc: Hum. I should kidnap her, shave her head and paint her face in clown make-up?

Principal: *Gasping*

Mama Arc: Oh, sorry. The voices.

Principal: Uh...

Mama Arc: So what are you accusing my babies of?

Principal: Well...

/==/ Seven Hours Ago /==/

Joan: Come on we have gym class!

Jaune: Hey! No I can't!

Jeanne: In!

Jaune: That's the girls locker room!

Joan: So?

Jeanne: Those beastly boys are NOT getting a chance to molest our dear brother!

Jaune get's hauled into the Girl's Locker Room by his sisters.

Multiple Feminine Voices: AHHHHHHH!!!!!!

/==/ Present /==/

Principal: This is the fifth time in five days that Jaune has been pulled into the Women's Locker room by his sisters! It is inappropriate!

Mama Arc: Joan, Jaune and Jeanne are triplets, of course they're going to want to change together. They've been doing it since they were born.

Principal: Well...

/==/ Four Hours Ago /==/

A well kwon group of bullies where running down the main corridor of the school, in utter panic and covered in paint splotches... away from a much shorter girl with green hair, rapidly firing a pair of... "juiced-up" paintball guns.

Rebecca: ^&$@&^&^%(@*(*%&@^*&^%^@&^%&##

Bully #1: Stop! It hurts!

Bully #2: We're sorry! We're sorry!

Rebecca: &^&^*@&^%@$^)%)@)()(%@)&(%*@&

/==/ Present /==/

Principal: Those boys were covered in bruises, some were even openly sobbing!

Mama Arc: So?

Principal: So?

Mama Arc: Where was this... concern when Joan, Jaune and Jeanne came home covered in bruises and mud?

Principal: ... um, well...

/==/ One Hour Ago /==/

Jinx and Tiny Tina stalked forward, sinister and more than slightly unhinged grins upon their faces. Their goal, a small ramshackle looking building near school property.

Gang Leader: Back off freaks!

Jinx: Did you?

Gang Leader: Did we what?

Tiny Tina: Proposition our baby brother...

Gang: NO!

Jinx: You... lie...

Tiny Tina: Let's shut up and shoot something!

The two young women suddenly had various weapons in their hands.

Gang: AHHHHH!!!!

/==/ Present /==/

Mama Arc: Sounds like my angels cleaned up a drug problem before it could become one. Wouldn't... *Grins in an unhinged way*

Principal: I... um... I...

Mama Arc: I'm starting to think... you're just wasting my time.

Principal: But... but... those are just the most extreme issues! Your children are completely out of control!!! All of them!

Mama Arc: *Raises and single Eyebrow* ALL?

Principal: Well aside from Jaune and Saphron...

Mama Arc: SO it's not... all...

Principal: No... but...

Mama Arc: I'll speak with my little angels... ask them to tone down things. Does THAT placate you?

Principal: Uh... yes?

Mama Arc: *Stands up* Good. Now I have a bandit tribe to... remove from our borders. Please...

Principal: Please?

Mama Arc: Stop expecting my babies to clean up your oversights with your administration. Agreed?

Principal: Yes... but... what about the locker room issue? That's not a problem being... fixed?

Mama Arc: Take them out of gym class, and give them a free period. I'm sure Jaune and his sisters would appreciate the extra study time... wouldn't you agree?

Principal: Well, those three are doing exceptionally well...

Mama Arc: *Beams a smile* Perfect. Problems solved. Ta-ta!

(A/N - Might have missed the mark on this ask. Might try again after five more cups of coffee...)

Utter & Complete Insanity Story Collection

[sotwk]

Social Customs and Faux Pas in Eryn Galen 

Dearest Gentle Reader:

You may have heard rumors about the “dangerous” and "less wise" Silvan people of the Woodland Realm, which conjure images of these native dwellers of Greenwood the Great as uncouth, untamed, or practically bestial creatures. As the oldest and largest tribe of Eldar to continue thriving in Middle-earth even into the Third Age, they certainly started out primitive and crude compared to their High-elven kin, as was their deliberately chosen path. However, many allegations by certain scholars regarding the wildness of the Greenwood Silvans have been exaggerated, and fail to acknowledge the cultural amalgamation that occurred within the first millennium of the Second Age.

Although the Sindar who arrived and settled in Greenwood were enthroned as the ruling lords, in the reunion and mixing of the two cultures, Silvan customs and language were the ones to prevail. Many of the rigid social constructs that governed the Sindar during their old life in Doriath were set aside, departing from what is typically still deemed acceptable and refined by the western cities of High Elves and High Men. 

Differences in social norms that carried through to the Third Age can perhaps be best illustrated by comparing the etiquette observed by the Numenorean descendants in the surviving Kingdom of Gondor, to that of the free-spirited Silvan Elves under Elvenking Thranduil’s rule. 

Below are some examples, written as answers to specific questions asked by one dear friend and a particularly curious Gentle Reader:

Would Silvans laugh at the idea of needing a chaperone to look after an unmarried couple? 

Silvans would most certainly laugh and shake their heads at the notion of a chaperone in any instance. What a most bothersome and inconvenient custom! What sort of calamity is a chaperone expected to prevent by their presence? In Eryn Galen, people of all genders, races, classes, and ages could openly or privately socialize with each other without fear of gossip or scandal. 

Are Silvans just going around holding gloveless hands with each other without a care in the world?

Only soldiers and hunters are known to wear gloves, and as Silvans are fond of physical touch as a show of affection, platonic or otherwise, then it would seem the amount of prolonged hand-holding and skin touching that occurs daily in Eryn Galen would make Gondorians swoon, indeed. At this point, I will refrain from describing the other popular forms of perfectly acceptable public displays of affection, should it prove too salacious for your nerves. 

Is there a socially acceptable way for them to make their intentions known (or to rebuff someone's intentions) during a dance? Or are their dances and parties so informal that they don't really compare to the regency idea of a ball at all?

Silvans absolutely love to dance, and they do so at every single community gathering and celebration. For most of the Second Age, dancing in Eryn Galen was done in groups (lines or circles) rather than with partners. Social dances and balls were not popularized until the Third Age; the marriage of Elvenking Thranduil and Queen Maereth romanticized paired dancing and introduced the concept of balls as a courtship ritual.  

While dancing with someone at a ball is not automatically viewed as romantic, balls are considered more formal events, most often hosted by the Royal Family themselves. They are seen as prime opportunities for unmarried people to socialize with the likely (but not obligatory) intent of romantic courtship and marriage. 

There are no hard rules or timelines to dictate how courtship is done among Silvans. However, it is greatly frowned upon for Elves (or anyone) to toy or trifle with the feelings of another, so romantic desires and intentions must be declared as soon as they are fully recognized in oneself. A ball could be a wonderful romantic setting to do this, but what is considered important is that one must look at the other person in the eye and speak their heart openly and plainly.  If the affections being offered are unwelcome or unreciprocated, then it is the duty of the recipient to gently but clearly rebuff those affections. Silvans are generally unbashful about this, and any shyness they may feel is overshadowed by their sense of honor. 

It must be noted that Elves never rush headlong into marriage, and thus a courtship often outlasts the lifespan of a mortal Man--even the long-lived Dunedain. Therefore, one can only conclude it is illogical to judge the customs of these two races against each other. 

What would be considered scandalous behavior (by Silvans)?

Outside of marriage, Silvans would not frown or judge one another on the quantity or quality of relationships they engage in throughout their long lives. The loose or lacking restrictions against displays of affection or proper public behavior would also indicate that flirtations, dalliances, and other practices that might be deemed promiscuous in Gondor would not raise eyebrows in Eryn Galen. It should also be noted, however, that compared to the race of Men, Silvans are more likely to be bored of or disinterested in sexual liaisons and far less moved by carnal impulses. This alone drastically decreases the occurrences of "scandalous behavior" as commonly defined by puritan society.

Silvans value honor, loyalty, and service to the community above all. Strong marriages and large, happy families are considered the pride and strength of their society, and so they take the commitments to these institutions very seriously.

Once a Silvan elf chooses to marry, they are bound to much stricter codes of conduct. In Silvan culture, the vow of marriage is considered an unbreakable oath, hallowed by the Valar and binding both the fëa and hröa of two Elves together. The commitment to monogamy goes hand-in-hand with an eternal oath to love and care for all children born to or adopted by the married couple.

The highest scandal in Eryn Galen, therefore, is the betrayal of these familial oaths, either through infidelity to one's spouse or the abandonment or estrangement from one's children. Divorce and family feuds remain virtually non-existent in Eryn Galen.

How long would someone's reputation be ruined?

“Ruin” or shunning people is not really something that happens in Eryn Galen. 

An immortal life is too long a time to carry a grudge, or so the wise say. But more than that, the Silvans tend to be a more forgiving and compassionate people, led by a gracious King and Queen who have deep personal experiences with the value of “second chances”. Any wrongdoing, from a minor faux pas to a blatant crime, can be pardoned as long as forgiveness is sought and the proper restitution (as dictated by law of the realm), is delivered. Once a transgression has been pardoned, it is expected for all to “forgive and forget”. Harboring ill feelings or prolonging disputes is considered vulgar and detrimental to the community. 

Banishment, on the other hand, is a rare and extreme punishment issued only by the King himself. It is done to prevent an unrepentant criminal from causing further harm to the rest of the community. 

Thank you to my Gentle friend @scyllas-revenge who sent in this Ask! <3 This was fun!

For more SotWK AU headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: Tags be added in comments temporarily while Tumblr tags are malfunctioning.