#I hold back from saying a lot of things cause the kiddies might be reading LMAO

[rius-cave]

Do you think that after a bit of having sex with each other, Lucifer would request a safeword so Adam doesn't get hurt in a bad way? I mean, Adam wouldn't really see the issue, but I honesty don't think Lucifer wants to hurt Adam during sex. Especially if his cries of 'no' and 'stop' are genuine and not part of the sex talk.

Hmmmmmmmm..... See anon I am a little conflicted about this.

I mean, of course they'd need a safeword eventually, yes, but in my fucked up head, I don't think Lucifer would care about hurting Adam at first LMAO. Dude was literally about to kill him in the finale???

But this goes off mostly on the fact that I think their relationship would start as hatesex. Like,,,, I don't think realistically Lucifer would go out of his way to hurt Adam during sex, but when it inevitably happens, he doesn't.... Care that much? Not at FIRST. (Adam is fine, he even likes some of it lol)

Once his sadistic side has been satisfied, I'd imagine he'd naturally be more gentle towards him and Adam getting hurt happens less and less. When they eventually reintroduce roughness into play, then setting up a safeword is kind of a given part of the process.

Listen guys.... This ship.... Is a little bit fucked up, we need to make peace with that fbsjfnsfb

[honeycombstrawberry]

Adrian with either 96 or 106 from that prompt list would be 😳😳😩

remember

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns, gn sex descriptions)

rating: e+

word count: 2,260

prompts: #96: “i love it when you talk dirty.” and 106: “i’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole’s name.”

one-sentence synopsis: adrian gets jealous when you get a little extra help on the mini-golf course.

author's note: unexpected little burst of a story here but DAMN what a combo you gave me for requests..... hot damn my friend!!!! hot damn!!!!!

read on ao3!

It’s fun, when the 11th Street Kids all go out to do something together.

You sometimes like to go out and get drinks, or go to the movies, or just get dinner. Normal adult things, you think. Things that adult friend groups are supposed to do together. You’re just one game night short of being a book club.

Today, though, you’re mini-golfing, just for a change of pace, and you’re starting to think this might have been a mistake.

At least, it probably is, judging by the way Adrian’s glaring at you from the beginning of the little course you’re on. Or, he’s not really glaring at you, really, but at the putt-putt employee who had taken it upon himself to “show you the ropes.”

Of mini-golf.

Even when you’d insisted you were okay, the guy had come out and shown you exactly how to hold your kiddie-sized club. When you got your bright pink little golf ball in the hole on the first try, he cheered like you’d won the World Series singlehandedly.

You know when somebody’s flirting with you. You’re not dumb.

Tragically, even though Adrian is somewhat dumb, he also knows when somebody is flirting with you, and he has spent the entire night getting more and more livid at what he’s seeing.

It’s not like either of you can do much about it. You’d both agreed to keep your relationship a secret, and him telling the guy to back off any more forcefully than Chris and John would might raise questions. The guy is handsome, and charming, so it would be a little weird if you dismissed him without cause, either.

The both of you are kind of stuck. So, you let the putt-putt employee flirt with you, and Adrian seethes from a distance, and the night goes on that way.

By the time you’re on the second to last hole, it looks like Adrian is genuinely about to blow a gasket. His face has gone completely red, and he keeps making comments to Leota in a hushed voice. You don’t know about what, exactly, but you can wager a pretty fair guess that it has to do with the employee— Paul— that has followed you all for most of the evening as if he wasn’t supposed to be working an actual job here.

Paul puts his hands on your hips to straighten you out, and you just barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Here, you want to stand like this.”

You glance backwards at Adrian to give him a look that you’re sure would scream, ‘Get a load of this guy, am I right?’, but Adrian is nowhere to be found when you turn around. Brow furrowing, you don’t see him before you have to redirect your attention forward on the game again.

That question answers itself when Adrian reappears only a few moments later, mere seconds before a car alarm that sounds suspiciously like his starts going off.

“Hey, isn’t that your shitbox?” Leota asks, turning to look at Adrian. He lifts his head as if confused, tilting as he listens.

“Sounds like it,” he replies. “I should probably go check on that.”

“I’ll go with you,” you say. You push your club into Paul’s hands, telling him, “I’ll be right back, you can take my shot for me,” and jogging to join Adrian. As far as covers go, it’s not your most subtle, but you’re definitely more mechanically-minded than Adrian is. If he did genuinely end up needing help with his car for some reason, you’d be one of his best bets.

If it’s a real burglar, he can more than handle that by himself, but you have a strong feeling there’s no real burglar, or any real car trouble at all. By the time you reach the parking lot, you see the lights flashing on Adrian’s car, and the back window busted in.

“Oh, shit, did someone actually fuck up your car?” you exclaim, but Adrian catches your wrist before you can run over to it. “Adrian, the—”

“I did that,” he tells you, dragging you in for a searing kiss. He cups your face in his hands, flames licking down your spine as you melt into him. His teeth are sharp when they find your bottom lip, a claiming, biting bruise left there.

“What?” you ask breathlessly when he draws away again. He drops to nose behind your ear, his hot tongue slick along the thin skin behind. “Adrian, you— You could’ve just hit the alarm button, you didn’t have to actually break your window—”

Adrian’s mouth stills. “Oh,” he says, and you huff a laugh.

“Yeah, oh,” you say. “Idiot.”

“Mm,” he murmurs. “I love it when you talk dirty.” He hauls you into another kiss, hard and harder, slotting his leg between yours. His hard cock is trapped in his jeans, obvious through the material to press into your thigh when he tugs you in closer by the hips.

You let your head tip back, Adrian ducking to bury his face in your throat, hot suction on your skin bringing a purpling bruise to the surface, marks of ownership from him. He moves on to make another almost immediately, frantic in his need to claim you. You figure out what this is about pretty quick, a smile spreading on your face. At least nobody’s out here in the lot, you note.

“Is this because of Paul flirting with me?” you ask.

Adrian makes a frustrated snorting sound in the dip of your collarbone. “Paul,” he repeats, spat with venom. “I didn’t realize you knew his name. What, should I let you go back and—”

“Don’t be a dick,” you cut him off. “You know we—”

“I know,” he insists. Frustrated, he sighs, then repeats, a little less angry, “I know. I just— It drives me fucking crazy seeing some other guy with his fucking hands all over you and I can’t do anything or else they might split our stupid fucking team up, but Chris can come onto Emilia all he wants without anybody saying shit—”

“Hey, hey,” you interrupt him, and he drops down again, seizing your wrists in his hands. He fumbles for his keys, snapping off the alarm on the car before refocusing fully on you.

The kiss is hungry— starving, actually, and Adrian’s hauling you by the arm before long, beelining in a straight shot to the nearest cover. The closest thing, it seems, is the large fake-cave that serves as part of the putt-putt area. Adrian doesn’t seem to care; he pushes you right up against it, trapping you between the flushed, hectic heat of his body and the rough-grit surface of the false cave, the friction contrast delicious on your exposed skin in the summer air.

The flat of Adrian’s tongue drags like a blazing lick of fire up your neck, and you shudder, a full-body rattle that has your head slamming backwards into the cave. Adrian works his hand between the two of you, all but tearing opening the fastenings on your pants and his. He turns up a packet of lube from inside his jeans pocket, splits it open by bursting it with his grip.

You huff a laugh at his impatience, but the humor disappears when he’s wriggling his hand into your pants, between your thighs, reaching for your entrance. You shove your pants down a little further; in the extra space, he thrives, slipping his fingers into you with an assertive push, claiming you as his.

“Fuck, yes,” he bites off into your flesh. “Fuck, you’re so tight— Shit—”

You fall apart on his fingers, letting him spread you open until you’re practically writhing, winding your fingers in his hair and yanking sharply to direct his attention. His eyes snap up to yours, blown black, and he’s devouring you again, reminding you that it’s his pace you’re following, delighted in the challenge you present him, sprawling through you, across you, into you.

When he’s satisfied with the way you’re spread around him, he withdraws his fingers. They make a slick sound of suction, and goosebumps raise up all over your skin, blood pounding hot in anticipation of him finally fucking entering you. You’re not exactly covered— anyone could walk by and see him pinning you up against the fucking fake mini-golf cave, laying into you like it’s his last day before going off to war— but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you want is him, to lose the imprint of anybody but him.

He clearly is of a similar mind, shoving his own pants down so he can take his cock in hand. His forehead presses hard into yours as he does, chasing touch, biting into a rough kiss when he starts fucking his own fist.

It only takes him a couple of strokes before he’s slick, hard and held tight in the circle of his fingers. He shoves you up against the cave wall again, slotting himself between your legs so he can push the head of his cock into your soaking entrance, dripping from his fingers. He buries his face in your throat, teeth sinking in when he fucks into you in a deep slide, hips meeting yours.

He doesn’t hesitate to start taking, his huge hands bruising in their hold on you as he pins you in his grip against the cave. His hips snap in dragging pulls, and you grind up into him. He’s hardly paying attention as he works his hand between your bodies to reach you. Sparks explode inside you immediately at his touch, and your back arches, desperate to push further into him.

Adrian drags your head into a tilt, licks into a kiss. He asks, “Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you like this?”

“Fucking— Yes, Adrian,” you gasp out. You can feel the burn of his smile, the bite of his teeth.

“Then that’s what you get,” Adrian tells you, muffled by your flushed skin. It’s like you’re welling up all over, heat radiating out of you, and Adrian absorbs it into his own flesh. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole’s name.”

You’re briefly bewildered and ask, “Paul?” without thinking, confusion in your tone.

Adrian snarls, a frustrated sound that tears up out of his chest with an animalistic fever. His teeth meet your skin again when he bites out, “Don’t say his fucking name, fuck. You’re not his, you’re mine.”

You’re sweating everywhere, slick skin gliding against his where your hips and thighs drag together with his. He doesn’t release you, working you closer and closer to the edge, his touch hard, tight, reeling your orgasm up and out of you until all you can think about is him, until all there is is him, flooding you from the inside out.

Adrian’s hand threads up to hang tight to your hair, cupping the crown of your head, snagging you for another rough kiss. He fucks you through his own release, until you feel like he’s fucking into the back of your throat, holding you through the last rattling waves in your limbs.

With his flushed face tucked into your throat, Adrian informs you, “You’re mine, okay?” in a tone that invites no argument.

Adrian lifts his head, his lips brushing the shell of your ear before his teeth find the thin cartilage and bite. There’s a slight edge in his words, like he’s worried you might say no and turn him away, but you wouldn’t. You couldn’t, not him.

Near your ear, the words rushed, Adrian confesses, “I know I don’t feel like people feel, and I know I don’t do shit right, and I know I’m fucked up, I do, I know that, but— but I really— I really, really fucking like you. It made me feel absolutely, literally crazy to see him touching you like that.”

Adrian’s hands fit over your hips where Paul had touched you, the burn of his touch replacing his with a scalding heat that engulfs you until it’s all you can feel.

You wrap your arms around his neck again, tugging him around for another kiss. He grins, ferocious and delighted, into it, biting at you playfully before he kisses up into the space under your eye, smiling the whole way.

“They’re probably going to come looking for us,” you remind Adrian. He groans, his mouth against your eyebrow. “We should probably go—”

“I could’ve gotten a hole in one on every hole, by the way,” Adrian tells you. “I have, like, an eagle eye for this shit. I just didn’t want to show off. Plus, you know, I was kind of hoping I could kind of— get Paul over, maybe sort of—”

“You can’t rough people up for flirting with me,” you say.

He laughs. “I wasn’t going to rough him up, I was going to kill him, c’mon. He’d’ve seen my face! No way, babe, not risking it.”

“He doesn’t deserve to—”

“Oh, yes he does,” Adrian says, gripping your jaw and chin, tugging you up into another bruising kiss. The way your bodies twist has his cock shifting inside you, and when you whimper into his mouth, a broken-off sound that’s drawn up of its own will. Adrian grins. “Think you can go again?”

“We have to go, Adrian,” you remind him. It’s a lost cause; he’s already dipping down into another kiss, and you surrender to him, to yourself. You didn’t really want to leave yet anyway.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @pieriinova @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans @ladyrebel25

[spooderboyandtincan]

You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone

Chapter 2

There’s a spider on the ceiling.

Peter can barely make out its eight gangly legs through a blur of tears. He feels some sort of bond with it- not only because of the DNA they share- but because they’re both alone. Then again, the spider has probably spent its entire life in this room, and Peter’s only been here- on a whole different continent- for a good couple of hours.

Maybe it’s just the jet lag. According to literally anyone who’s known him at all- he gets adorably grumpy when he hasn’t gotten his beauty sleep (Tony’s words, not his.)

Who does he think he’s kidding? He’s homesick, he’s alone, and he really, really misses Tony. Misses him as in the his heart is literally being torn apart sort of missing. He wishes he’d considered how his severe separation anxiety might play a part in this when he’d still had a choice.

Peter chokes on a whine- the one that forces its way out of his throat until he’s full on sobbing and gasping for breath.

He scrambles for his phone on the nightstand. He needs Tony, he needs him, like a fish needs water. He fumbles with the lock screen and desperately taps on Tony’s icon (a picture of Tony holding a proudly displaying a mug that reads “Number 1 Iron Dad.”) It rings once, twice-

“Pete? How’s it going, kiddie?” Tony’s voice, so gentle, so full of love and concern- he already knows something’s wrong, of course, because his Dad Senses are off the charts- makes the tear in his heart rip open.

“Tony,” he sobs. “Tony. I don’t- I can’t, I can’t do this. I wanna go home, Tony.”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay Petey, breathe for me okay?” He can hear, just barely over his sobs, that Tony is pacing, can hear that his breathing is just a bit too fast, and Peter feels awful for freaking him out, but just can’t stop crying.

“‘M so sorry,” he wails, “‘M so sorry. I-I wanna go home, I want you Tony.” He grasps his pillow tightly and buries his face in it, trying to stifle his sobs, pretending that Tony is there, wrapping his arms around him, kissing his hair, rocking them back and forth.

“I know, baby, I know,” Tony croons, “Everything’s gonna be okay, we’re okay. Right now I just need you to take a deep breath, buddy- in, two-three, out, two-three, okay?” Tony demonstrates for him, taking exaggerated inhales and exhales, which are probably benefiting him as much as they are Peter. “You’ve got this, Pete, I know you do.”

“I miss you, Tony,” Peter whispers after a few seconds of shaky breathing. “I wanna go home.” He feels so immature, begging Tony to fly across the Atlantic in the dead of night just because he’s a little homesick.

Tony, however, seems to consider his request very seriously. “Do you want me to fly out? I could be there in a few hours.”

Peter almost laughs, imagining Tony arriving to the hotel at daybreak, dressed only in sweatpants and a stained AC/DC t-shirt. It’s actually not a bad idea- Tony could act as a chaperone, they could explore the city together, make another precious memory.

“Yeah, um, that-that would be great, Tony,” he sniffs, wiping the wetness of his cheeks. “A-are you sure? I don’t wanna, like, make you, there’s probably Iron, um, Iron Man things, I don’t-”

“Pete, listen to me,” Tony interrupts, voice again so impossibly gentle. “Nothing- nothing- is more important to me than you, understand? I’m here for you. Always”

Peter smiles wetly, relaxing back into the covers, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I know. Tony?”

“Yeah, bud?

“Can-can you, um, talk? Please?”

“‘Course I can, Pete. What about?” Tony says fondly. The idea that his voice can bring such comfort to this sweet kid makes him feel all… schmoopy.

“Anything. I just… wanna hear your voice, s’all.” He tugs the covers up and curls into a ball, resting the phone on the pillow next to his ear.

“I’ve got you, bud,” Tony says. I miss you too. “Oh, you’ve gotta know what DUM-E did today….”

Peter feels himself relaxing as Tony talks about his day. It’s not just the words that soothe him, but the familiar sound of his warm voice that’s full of such love and affection. His thoughts begin to wander as he drifts into a barely conscious haze, but the voice remains steady and present in his mind.

Tony is quick to notice that Peter is on the precipice of slumber and wakefulness, and is just as quick to provide the last bit of reassurance Peter needs to fall asleep. “Sweet dreams, buddy. I love you,” he murmurs.

Just before Peter slips away, he finds himself slurring, “Love you too.”

Tony stays on the call for a solid ten minutes after Peter conks out, listening to the steady whoosh of his breathing against the speaker. Before he finally makes himself hang up, he whispers a quiet, “‘Night, Petey. I’ll be there before you know it.” Tony leaves for the airport at daybreak, not able to spend another second in that horribly empty penthouse. The absence of Peter’s presence is tremendously obvious, and Tony finds himself desperately trying not to imagine the unimaginable.

~~~~~

With a pilot on-call 24-7, and without the hassles of a public airport, he’ll be back with Peter around early afternoon.

Thank god.

He steps out of the Cadillac, barely noticing the blistering wind and the tiny snowflakes biting at his cheeks in his haste to board the plane. He greets the pilot- Allison, he thinks- with a nod, but she gestures to stop when he moves towards the stairs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark!” she says over the howling wind. “We just can’t fly in this weather!”

To hell with that, Tony thinks. “When’s it letting up?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Stark,” Allison says apologetically. “Not for a few days at least.”

Tony activates the suit with a simple tap of his watch, the nanobots rushing over him within seconds. Allison gasps and jumps back, gaping as he rockets into the air.

He’s been flying for a good 50 seconds before a neon red warning lights up the HUD.

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y says, tone filled with caution. “The wind is blowing at a speed of 78 mph. I must advise that you return to the ground immediately, or you run the risk of losing control of the suit.”

Tony curses loudly. Just his luck, really. “How high is the risk?”

“89%, boss.”

“So, not all that bad,” he chuckles.

Then, F.R.I.D.A.Y reminds him how devastated Peter would be if anything happened to him.

Tony returns to his car on foot and pulls out his phone to call Peter.

~~~~~

Peter basks in the sunlight outside of a bustling café, sipping from a cup of hot chocolate. He’s ordered a chocolate croissant, and added the tasteless protein powder Tony and Bruce had synthesized to keep up with his spidey metabolism to his mug. Despite the jet lag, he’s eager to explore the city and it’s merits, his enthusiasm only growing knowing that Tony will be here within a few hours.

Feeling pleasantly full, Peter leans back in his chair- it’s an armchair, on a stool, and it’s driving him nuts, he loves it- and beams at Ned, who lounges next to him in an identical chair. “Dude,” he says.

“Dude,” Ned agrees.

Peter is grinning, Ned is grinning, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, life is sweet-

Peter’s phone rings.

His first thought is that Tony’s plane has crashed.

His second is one of relief when he realizes it’s Tony who’s calling him.

His third is that his plane has crashed, and Tony’s calling him, mortally wounded, to say goodbye.

Ned stares at him, taking in the panicked look on his face, and mouths You good? Peter shakes his head and scrabbles for his phone.

“Pete?” Tony says as soon as he’s answered. He sounds fine, at least. “Hiya.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asks first, because he knows that even if Tony sounds like he’s fine, that doesn’t mean he is.

“Yeah. Yeah, Petey, I’m just fine, I promise,” Tony assures him. Peter relaxes in his chair, flashing Ned a quick thumbs up, because knows Tony would never lie to him, especially not if he was hurt. “How’re you doin’?”

Peter’s face lights up. “Oh, great! There are like, dogs everywhere here, even in the restaurants, and I saw this German Shepherd eating like- dog ice cream or something? And I got this super good chocolate croissant where we’re having breakfast. Y’know, I really thought the jet lag would be super bad but I’m not like, tired at all yet!”

“Aw, buddy, that’s great, I’m glad you’re havin’ a good time,” Tony says, voice dripping with fondness. “You’re drinking enough water, staying hydrated and all that, right?”

“Yup! Are you?”

Tony scoffs. “‘Course I am. Hafta set a good example n’ shi- stuff.” Peter snorts. He knows Tony does his best not to curse around his- and he quotes- “young, unsullied ears" but he ends up failing quite a lot.

“Which reminds me bud, how’s Ted?” Peter’s best friend’s health has pretty much no correlation with cursing, which makes the teen think that Tony has a specific reason for asking about him. He decides not to bring it up though.

“It’s Ned,” he sighs in mock frustration. And he’s good, he’s right next to me! I guess I didn’t tell you yesterday, but the hotel guy put us into two different rooms ‘cause they had extra or something and we didn’t realize ‘til we got to our rooms.” He sighs again then, for real, his good mood evaporating.

Tony’s Dad Senses pick up on it instantaneously. “Not ideal, huh?” he says gently, which earns him a small laugh from the kid. “D’you want me to talk to them?”

Peter nods sheepishly, then realizes Tony can’t see him. “Yeah. Thank you,” he says in a small voice, embarrassed that the genius is going to all this trouble just because he’s a little lonely. “Are you gonna be here soon?” he asks then, because he misses Tony, misses him just like he knows Tony is missing him.

Tony clears his throat. When he speaks, the guilt in his voice could rip him in half. “About that, buddy, well- Jesus, Pete, I’m so sorry. The, uh, the wind is too dangerous for me to fly over, and it’s not letting up ‘til around Monday. I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

Peter’s heart sinks. “Oh,” he says numbly.

He hears Tony lurch up. “Hey, Petey- shit, I’m so sorry, buddy. I- you know what, fuck it, I’ll fly over anyway, I-”

“No! No, I’m okay, I’m fine!” Peter says, wincing silently at the forced cheeriness in his voice, and knowing that Tony has seen right through.

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s okay, I’ll be perfectly safe-”

“You can’t,” Peter pleads, desperate to keep Tony safe. “Please, Tony, you can’t, you’ll crash, or-”

“Whoa, Petey, deep breaths,” Tony interrupts, voice gentle. “I’m right here, I’m fine, you hear me?” He waits for Peter’s breathing to resume a steady rate, then says, “Bub, I won’t fly over if it’s not safe, I promise.”

Peter sighs. He’s relieved beyond belief that Tony is keeping both feet on the ground where he’ll be safe- he better be- but he misses the billionaire more than ever.

“And hey, who knows, maybe the wind’ll let up in a few hours!” Tony chuckles. Sobering a little, he says, “If the weather is on schedule, I’ll be there on Monday, 6 am, sharp.”

Peter prays he will. “I miss you, Tony,” he mumbles- he feels childish, knowing that he’s just begged the man to stay in New York, and now is just making him more miserable knowing that he’s miserable.

“I miss you too, Petey,” the genius murmurs back, voice filled with sorrow.

“Peter!” The phone nearly flies out of Peter’s hand as Mr. Harrington taps on his shoulder. He gasps a little, and though his teacher doesn’t seem to notice, Tony sure does, his gentle voice turning harsh with barley contained panic. “Who was that, Pete? Are you okay?”

“Um-” he tries.

“Come on, now! The bus is almost here, I can see it around the corner!” Mr. Harrington says loudly, and abruptly struts off, frantically waving down the bus that is already stopping.

“Peter!” Tony exclaims.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it was just Mr. Harrington,” he rushes to reassure him. Tony breathes out a heavy sigh of relief. “Uh, the bus is here, I- I have to go.” He hurries to catch up with his best friend.

“I love you,” Tony says. “I love you so much, Pete, stay out of trouble, be safe.”

He doesn’t want to say goodbye. Neither of them do.

“I love you, Tony,” says Peter. “I’ll be safe, don’t worry about me!”

And with that, the call ends.

[yesvaldemarharder]

Being A Cock Warmer For The Males In Arcana

Yeah I ain’t stutter. Also the fact that y’all got 308 notes on the Nsfw Arcana bit I ain’t got 308+ followers hurts me. So cruel. 😤

Anyway let’s get started before I have a mental breakdown haha (<— old edit sorta)

Edit from today (7/25): WE ARE NOW AT 565 FOLLOWERS! (I do believe, I might have to check again) Thanks so much guys! I know I disappear a lot but with witch stuff and spirituality and shit like that I just need to take breaks. I don’t mind y’all asking me how I’m feeling though smh, it might bring me back sooner to know people care about me.

But y’all too scared to even comment on how much y’all like my posts so I know y’all won’t do it.. cowards. 😔🥺

Anyway here’s the cock holder post, I’m actually not sure if these are completely cock holder-ish because of how they turn out but here, have fun rubbing off kiddies uwu. (Please don’t be actual kids tho smh, I ain’t responsible for yo lil ass.. if you get caught rubbing one out)

EDIT 7/27: Finally I’m done, I just want to say thank you to all the followers that’s been waiting for this post! I’ve been in off and on moods these days so yeah..anyway I’ve been holding this post for months and well here ya go! Also if anyone else wants to Roleplay just hit me up! (However I need to see your style of Roleplay before we start anything..short rps and rps with plot or starters aren’t my thing. And I call dating Valdemar uwu, I’ll rp your fav character for you if you rp them for me.)

I feel like some of these are out of character but only a little, please deal with it considering how hard I worked to get this out..also if you read this whole top, you get this: a quick request from me! Request anything you want and I’ll upload it either today, tomorrow or the day after! You have to read all my top tho and I know some of you won’t so for people who do, in your request send me the call out note I put up here!

Honestly it shouldn’t be hard to find..but anyway enjoy!

(Also I might make edits later teehee..)

-

Asra

As yet another costumer walked asking multiple questions about crystals and spiritual awakenings you nearly whimpered to them as an answer to whatever they had just said. Your hand roughly clutching the edge of the greeting desk in front of you.

Asra’s cock nestled in deep inside you like a snug bug in a fucking rug. It pressed against your sweet spot, nudging against the g-spot and he’s carefully rolling his hips shooting pleasure all throughout your body. Your clit is rock hard at this point as his hand grips your naked thigh, your shirt pulled up and panties around your ankles.

Everything is hidden from the people coming in except your face which is trying to hard not to show how hot you’re feeling. You want to stick your tongue out so bad or let your eyes roll but you know that with the right person that’s a dead giveaway. When another comes in Asra greets them with a warm smile seeing you stumble on your words to do so instead. He thrust his hips a little and you hold back from crying out, ducking your head down into your arms to bite your lips. Just like the way he told you to.

‘What a good girl you are.~’ He thinks with a catlike grin. He’s enjoying this quite a bit and you can tell with the twitching that his cock is doing inside you. Asra has patience though, a lot of it..and while you want so desperately to bounce on his cock like a whore in heat he simply won’t let you until he sees fit. Maybe if you beg for it though he’ll simply not give a damn about the customers and will put you up for display, fuck you right on the counter in front of everyone that enters.

When the customer haults themselves mid sentence they take the time to ask if you’re ok. Of course you can’t answer, you can’t even trust your voice to sound somewhat under control. Asra is on it in a flash taking any words from you to speak instead. Maybe not with the words you expected him to say but really you can’t argue right now. Not when he lifts your legs a bit more and sinks deeper into your wet messy pussy. You shake against him letting out a strangled whimper.

“She’s just a bit sick right now, poor thing... I wished for her to sleep but she insisted on helping me today. Isn’t that sweet?”

Insisted on helping daddy work today.~ Oh such a naughty girl you were weren’t you? Don’t worry though, he’d made you squirt all over his cock like the loving daddy he was. What would he be if he didn’t?

After a couple of words between Asra and the customer the customer leaves with whatever they managed to purchase. The shop was quiet now only with the sound of wetness between your thighs and you breathless moans. It was quiet until he pushed you forward. You press firmly against the counter and he follows you pressing right up against your back, your hands find the counter and he chuckled into the skin of your back. “Such a good girl, you did a good job~” he mumbles as your cervix twitched against the slit of his cock and god, he has to cover your mouth as you cry out in pleasure because even though there aren’t anymore customers he still can’t be sure if anyone is still around outside.

You hips bucked against him now in a deep rut. He doesn’t even bother to tell you to stop because he know you won’t, he also knows you can’t help it at this point..your bouncing, tears running down your rosy cheeks. He just watches with a smug smile as his cock disappears each time you push back against him, his hands moving down to grab your hips as you moan and cry for more. Who knew a simple push would make you loose your mind? He did, that’s who knew.

You jerk with a high pitched cry and this time he doesn’t bother to cover your mouth, you’re just too far gone and he’d be a liar if he didn’t want to hear you babblering about how good his cock was. At one point you nearly collapsed but he holds you, lovingly as if you were simply cuddling in bed and not just breeding yourself on his cock.

“Shh, Shh. That’s a good girl, take daddy’s cock baby. It’s okay, I’ll let you cum.”

And oh god when his fingers came to play with your clit magick mixing in and you came so hard.. You were pretty sure you went to the astral plane for a second or some shit because it made you grip the desk for your life. Eyes rolling as he groaned, busting his load within you filling you with pups. You went limp against him, panting tiredly as he nuzzled you as if he didn’t just fuck the shit out of you.

“Such a good girl.”

Julian

You’re both flustered. His hands tightly gripping your twitching thighs as his large cock is deeply submerged in you. You’re in public, at the bar matter of fact surrounded by both men and women alike who are either drunk of their asses or are soon to be as such. Either way it’s risky to do this here but it couldn’t have been helped.

When you found your seat in Julian’s lap he turned a deep shade of red from the suddenly weight but simply chuckled lifting a brow, curious to know what you were up to now. “Darling? Careful now, I might ‘pop one’.” He chuckled and you purred, the noise making the glass you held to your lips vibrate a bit. He hugged you, like a baby clinging to a mother until you start to feel something prodding at your butt.

You make a small surprised noise and he freezes on the spot. You look back at him and he’s so flustered all he can do is look back up at you, sweating lightly, he even gives a shy little grin as if to say ‘told ya so’. After a short staring contest you bite your lip and purr once more. Why not take advantage of this, you and Julian we’re into many things so why not try out a little public play? You lift the glass back to your lips to down the rest of whatever you had been drinking in the first and then you shifted in his lap getting a feel of a twitch.

“Julian darling, you seem to have a bit of a surprise for me hm?~” He gives a nervous chuckle but nods. You take the momentary awkwardness as him being a bit shy and you know it’s understandable, even you’re feeling a little anxious with what you are about to do..however Julian was always one to try new things and you could tell he was interested the second his hand carefully cupped your hip.

You bit your lip in anticipation and without too much more hesitation you look around to see if anyone is watching glad to see that they’re not and you stand a little pulling down your pants and panties. He watches, he’s so nervous that you can practically see him gulp but the bulge in his pants is still growing so neither of you can help yourselves.

He fights his pants quickly pulling them down letting his cock bob out. Hard and already glossy with sweet precum already. If it wasn’t for a growing wetness developing between your legs and the group of people around you you’d get down on you knees and take that cock in your mouth. The tip is an angry red and you go to make a joke but shudder as he sneakily runs his thumb down the crack of your soft ass, playfully over your butthole and over your folds to your cute pink clit.

You nearly buck, humping the table but your careful. That’ll cause a scene for sure. Julian is impatient now, forgetting the awkwardness and embarrassment but he’s still cautious.. as much as he wants to beg you to hurry he doesn’t whine, not here, not yet..

You slowly lower yourself on the large, throbbing cock. It stretches you and you hear Julian gasp, his hands grabbing hold to your thighs the second you both connect. It’s hot in your belly, twitching against your fleshy pink walls, making your belly bulge ever so slightly. You’re shaking and he can’t quite literally feel you quivering around him. Biting into your lip you lightly roll your hips, slow to get a good feel of the twitching inside you.

You suddenly let out a muffled cry, your hand coming up just in time to cup your mouth when Julian bucks a bit on instinct. He’s quick to apologize though, sorry he couldn’t keep his body still but oh god...you’re soaking wet and so fucking hot that honestly he feels he might cum already.

You try to calm down, not to cause a scene when he presses his head into the crook of your shoulders, panting on your neck as he wraps his arms around you firmly keeping you in place. You practically whimper as he kissed your neck. “Q-Quickly darling, bounce on it. I’m going to cum soon~” Julian didn’t usually tell you what to do, and that might have been the reason you looked surprised at his words, might have also been the reason you grew wetter..

You felt...flustered, for the first time of being with him because usually you were the one in charge and yet here he was whispering in your ear telling YOU what to do. His lips on your neck, whispers in your ears encouraging you, cock deep inside and kissing your cervix, his taller build pressing so lovingly against your back. He moved his hand down to rub your clit curious to see your reaction as he lifts his head a little to look at your blushing face. He starts off slowly but soon he’s rolling his fingers in rough circles as you gasped and bucked, hips twitching and legs shaking.

“J-Jules, oh shit~ stop...stop I’m going to cum, I’m going to!-“

It was unexpected but he roughly slammed his hips up, cock hitting that sweet spot and he groaned as his cock throbbed before a thick release of cum flooded your insides. He held you tightly as you trembled. His hand tightly over your mouth to keep you quiet because you had been making cute little whines without even noticing. He suddenly was up and moved like a flash as he whisked you off to the bathroom where you squirted, your pussy twitching and spasming around him, eyes rolling because you had just came.

He held you against the wall as you struggled to stand on your own, no one was around now so he freely kissed you, a deep blush on his cheeks as he tried to calm you down. He’d take his time cleaning you up after you came down from your high.. “I’m sorry darling, please forgive me...I couldn’t help myself.” He chuckled lightly against you smiling as you huffed.

Lucio

You’re completely naked, skin sweaty, head buried in the same pillow where Nadia rest her head. His gauntlet squeezes your ass in a tight grip, voices in the hallway having normal talks. Your cheeks are a blood red.

He’s teasingly slow with each thrust, slow but rough covering your mouth with his other hand each time you let out a squeal at his cock spreading your cervix, the words in your ear he whispers are dirty and vulgar, humiliating but you can’t help the way your pussy squeezes around his thick veiny cock.

Lucio doesn’t seem worried, doesn’t seem like he cares if someone comes in to see him breeding his favorite servant like your just some toy. Maybe every once in a while you’ll hear Nadia’s voice and he’ll growl at how tight you squeeze around him, horny but scared she’ll come in and catch you both.

It’s so hard not to rock back into him, not only because he’s barely leaving any space for you but also because he’s in charge here. There’s a delicious twitch from his pulsating cock and you shake your hips now biting into that pillow snapping your eyes shut. It’s good, he’s good...no, he’s fucking amazing and it feels like you’re melting.

At one point it so good that you beg quietly. Soft whimpers and moans falling from your lips as the hand he had on you mouth moves to your hair, yanking those locks he loved so much.

His cock twitches inside you again and holy fuck you’re crying, you want to cum so bad but he’s keeping you still, stopping you from fucking back against him and so now all you can do is try to keep quiet.

This is torture, you think to yourself but then there’s a snap of his hips, cock burying deep in your womb and you scream, face forced into the pillows to shush you. He chuckles lowly in your ear, mockingly as you tremble violently against him.

“What’s wrong princess? Is something the matter? Use your words kitten~”

He knows you’re weak and he loves using it against you. At this point you really are crying, you want to cum to bad and he’s edging your orgasm at a level he’s never done before and it’s fucking killing you.

Beg, beg to get fucked like a bitch. Beg for him to take mercy. Beg for his cock, he fucking loves that.

And you did. “P-please sir~ please please please...let me cum please..” you sound so desperate it’s pitiful but with a hum he grants your wishes. If you thought the teasing was one thing the strokes he gave your slutty ass was another.

He fucked you so hard into the bed that when you came you couldn’t stop whimpering his name or shaking. You hips trembling seven after he pulled out. Your face pressed so hard into the pillows as his hot cum dripped out of your cunt.

He’d clean you up later but for now he kissed your lower back before giving that bum a nice slap watching as the skin brightened.

“Good girl~”

Muriel’s is a bit shorter because other then Portia I don’t really see him in a ‘LETS FUCK’ kinda way. Just my opinion don’t get mad please smh.

Muriel

It’s making your stomach bulge so much that you’re shaking, gripping his strong thighs as his large hands carefully settle on your hips.

There’s a twitch and you toss you head back to rest it on his chest, panting, whining like a dog and heat and even though it’s slightly embarrassing for you, looking up with lidded eyes and seeing that deep blush makes you purr. You bite your lip

His hand slides and now it’s on your stomach gently caressing the bulge he finds there. You shudder and then you let out a sweet high pitched moan as one of his thick fingers move to rub you clit.

His movements are slow but firm, he’s careful because he doesn’t want to hurt you but he also loves how your nails dig into his skin and how you buck and clench around him.

Keep doing that and might blow his loud sooner than he thought he would.

It’s just you and him, Inanna (did I spell that right? I don’t know I ain’t played his route like that..) is out, and he feels better that she is. Not hear to watch as the clear juices drip out of your needy cunt.

He hasn’t rolled his hips or thrusted up into you once yet and deep in your mind you feel a bit grateful but that doesn’t mean you can’t rub against him

There’s a shiver and then you wiggle those hips of yours, crying out in bliss as his finger presses against your clit and how you can feel his cock twitch again. The hand on your hips squeezes and then there’s a shaky groan behind you

He slumps a little, big strong chest against your back, lips against your throat in a gentle kiss and he’s shaking. He might just cum but it’s no doubt that you’re going to beat him to it.

When his hips stuttered you arched but now it was too late to stop. You cried his name out before you came hard around that fat cock of his. He gasped at the tightness but quickly wrapped his arms around your waist giving you a gently but firm hug.

His cumming and his cum is thick and stick. You convulse just having it in you and when you’re both done he falls back onto the bed panting with the same tempo as you.

Fuck, you loved this man and when you found your voice again you’d definitely tell him to his face. ❤️

Can I just say that Vlastomil needs more fluff and smut of him??? Like no cap he lowkey makes the pussy wet for me 🥴🥴🥴 his is a bit short but cut me some slack, it’s 1 am in the morning..

Vlastomil

You didn’t suggest this, it just kinda sorta happened. When you came into his office to greet him with a kiss you didn’t expect to end up staying for this long but you guessed when lovers are too busy with work the second they had time alone anything will go down.

A simple kiss turned to Vlastomil grabbing your hand carefully to pull you closer. He’s missed you and you’ve missed him too, what could it hurt to spend time together? You smile a little and come closer until you’re in his lap, facing him and that cute dumb grin on his face. His hands moving around your waist to pull you both together and then you’re kissing again.

His tongues are curious to roam your mouth and as you do so you can’t help but moan a little remembering the times those same tongues had been submerged in your pussy making your jerk and cry out for mercy. You’ve missed him more than you thought you did..damn Nadia and those amazing adventures you two seemed to always go on..

He paused upon hearing the sound come from you and as he pulls back there’s a glimpse in his eyes that you both know all too well. Then there’s a slight twitch beneath his robes and you can’t help but shift closer, pressing a hand to his chest to make him lean back a little. His hands are still on you but this time they squeeze a little at your hips to encourage you. “Well, we have the time now correct?” He hums and you purr, nodding a bit as you lean down to kiss his exposed throat which makes him shiver under you.

With a catlike grin you pull back lifting your skirt to show your thighs that’s encased in stockings and lace underwear that has probably five seconds to be dealt with before he rips them off you. His eyes are focused and his cheeks are a bit red but now you too have gotten this far, no need to stop now. Not with the bulge between his legs growing bigger and needier for attention. It doesn’t take long to get him inside you, his fingers have prepared your now wet cunt and now your slit is teasing the head of his cock.

Usually Vlastomil doesn’t mind a bit of playfulness but he really wants you and with out much of a thought he pulls you down, kissing your lips as you go to arch and moan out at the sudden move. He’s throbbing in you, his long cock pulsing happily to finally be surrounded by your hot wet insides. You clutch his clothes, legs twitching a bit and even though you want to keep kissing you can’t help how your head tilts back even more you you to let out a broken moan of his name.

“Vl-Vlast~..” you gasp as he shifts a little to which he hums. “Hush now, don’t be too loud dear~.” Because while he’d love to make you scream the last thing he really wants to hear are rumors from servants who are far too curious about his love life. You shiver and for a while he just holds you allowing you to be the one rolling your hips shakily against him. A quiet groan leaving him each time his cock moves inside you like it might just slip out.

You’re so hot that he buries his head in your shoulder to try and stop himself from pinning you down on his desk. With his movement he presses deeper in you and you whine rolling you hips a bit faster. He’ll allow you to chance your orgasm, until he doesn’t..where he’ll grab your hips in an almost bruising grip to stop you. Then he’ll edge you on till you’re shaking and crying like a bitch, begging for him to stop and just let you come.

Only then would he allow if, for now however, he liked the feeling of those tight walls hugging his cock like a life support.

As you fell apart to your bucking he leaned his head back to whisper in your ear on how you’re doing so well or how good you feel around him. He’s not actively trying to make you cum but oh he’s definitely help tug on the knot inside of you. You hips stutter and with a shout you cum, shaking, twitching, and begging for him to stop with his mistreatments.

When your down, breathless and used he’ll continue to hold you there until he’s cumming so much in you that it starts to overflow. When you could speak again he’d wait for you to say how much you love him, for now however he simply chuckled and placed a lovely kiss on your forehead. Later he’d definitely pin you down and be the one in charge.

Valerius

Whatever Lucio has been saying definitely didn’t translate to you, not when Valerius had his cock so far up your pussy that you struggled to even breathe evenly.

Not with his hand massaging the inside of your thigh underneath the cloth of the table, not with him pressing a light kiss to your cheek even once in a while and definitely not with his little dirty promises each time Lucio looked away.

Your breath came out shaky after Lucio asked you something about the food and you bit your lip feeling the cock in you twitch.

“It’s d-delicious.” It’s the only thing you can mumble after Lucio speaks on how’s the food, while trying to not bounce on the cock that’s getting squeezed by your cunt. You want to roll your hips so bad, make him fuck you on this table without a care, but at the same time you do care.

You care about what whatever the hell Lucio will say for whatever fucking reason and that leaves you shivering trying to fight off the heavy blush that’s trying to appear on your face.

Valerius leers close, his head finding your neck, his lips moving along your skin. Smooth lips kissing your shoulder, then the base of your neck and moving to your ear. He moves his hips and your hand instinctively comes down to squeeze his thigh. He lets out a low groan into your ear feeling the wetness that you’re pussy is letting off, your heat having him hard as a fucking boulder. It really is hard to not bend you over this table and fuck you like the slut that you are. He could see it now, your nails digging into the table cloth as his fingers yank and pull on your hair, his eyes on your cunt with swallows him oh-so nicely with each thrust.

“I’m going to fuck you darling..” he speaks into your ear and the shiver you let off made him chuckle. Lucio is back talking again now, something about another masquerade and how amazing he is.., it doesn’t matter. Valerius’s hand on your thigh begins to move and you’re so sensitive now that even the slightest touch makes you whimper under your breath. His hand moves to tickle your clit, fingers playfully rubbing against the hard bun and now you do bounce on him.

It’s sudden but it makes you both shudder, there’s a wet sound that’s made when you do it and now Valerius downs the rest of his wine somehow calmly managing to set the empty glass on the table. His eyes are closed and you bite your lip, Lucio perks. “Oh Valerius! Would you like some more wine? I’ll even go get it for you!” And you can’t stop him because he’s already running to the kitchen. There’s silence and then his hand wraps around your throat, it squeezes and you let out a choked moan.

“Do it again.” He hummed and fuck, you listen to daddy when told to. Your hips are quick to studder, you bounce, raising your hips just to slam them back down on him. A broken cry leaving your voice when he takes the lead. Your legs spread over his as he fucks you with vigor. His cock rutting so deep in you with each thrust that you can feel it in you tummy and you can feel yourself chasing your own orgasm.

It’s just you and him and your letting out whimpering and broken moans, babbling to your daddy on how good you’ll be if he lets you cum. He believes every word of course because right now the ball is in his field and he’s in charge of if you actually get to cum in his lap.

Your arching, eyes rolling and you can feel the tightness in your belly. It’s coming, you’re trying to warn him, your hands placed on his knees for some sort of structure. You’re so cute, he whispers lovingly in your ear how wet your cunt is or how much it’s squeezing him and then he comes to a sudden stop.

You almost cry, not a small whine but a pitiful yell. You were so close and yet he stopped..this is torture, you couldn’t help but repeat that in your head. Lucio is coming back and you can tell because who doesn’t know that snazzy silhouette by now. Valerius has his hands on you holding you tightly to stop you from taking from him without permission. You will only cum when he lets you, don’t forget that. 

They’re talking but you’re trying so hard not to really cry right now, your pussy trembling with juices dripping down his balls and down your thighs. He has a hand on your hip that’s squeezing, telling you to keep in your place and even though you’re desperate you know that the prize of waiting is much better than a punishment. Or was it? (Teehee 👅😈💦)

A wine bottle slides towards you and it takes you a second to realize what’s happening. You blink before wrapping your fingers around the barrel without a thought and then there’s another deep thrust. You jerk bitting your lip as your hand tightens around the bottle almost like you wish to crush it. Valerius leans against you with a hum “are you alright? Can you open it?” He spoke lowly and to be honest there’s been multiple times where you wanted to hit him but this one really took the cake.

You nod lightly and then his other hand is over your clit, you gasp as digits violently play with the bundle of nerves and you can’t see at the moment but there’s a wide smirk on Lucio’s face. You completely break and arch in his lap as he presses kisses against your throat. “C-coming!~ D-Daddy I’m coming!~~” you cry and while you try weakly to clutch his arm he bucks lifting your hips with his other hands.

The string breaks inside you and then you go to scream but his hand is quick to cover your mouth from such a blissful sound. You cream all over his cock and there’s a rough groan as he cums inside you, his cum hot and filling you to the brim. You slump against him shaking and shivering before peeking a little.

“WOW! What an amazing show Valerius!” The count chuckles and now your blush is hellishly red. Did Lucio know the whole time? Well it must be expected considering how close the two could be. Valerius had his head in your shoulder as he lightly pet your belly which only added to how tired you were now.. You were definitely going to hit him when you woke back up..

Now, for Valdemar and Vulgora. I KNOW they both go by they/them pronouns. I’m only saying this because someone once didn’t know the difference between a daddy kink and ddlg on my account and the last thing I want is some little fucker being like “bUt BuT bUt!..” Most of my post for Valdemar or Vulgora is them with a tentacle dick but I don’t mind writing them with vaginas either. (Tribbing post coming soon uwu) My point is they’re both capable of forming whatever genitalia they want and plus this is just for fun and horny folk, calm down.

Vulgora

A blood curdling scream cut through the air as blood fell to the dirt ground with a splat, the coliseum was bustling with hunger for violence and the screams of the weak. There were three reasons for coming here, for one, Vulgora loved the coliseum. How could they not, fighting and blood was basically what they were made for. Two, they loved to show you the things that they liked to get closer to you.

The third being that when screams filled the air, the screams of pleasure from your lips couldn’t be distinguished from the ones down below.

They grinned a bit before laying their chin on your shoulder, their strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist to keep the two of you attached. You twitched tossing your head back to rest on their shoulder as you let out hot pants and cooes. It squirmed inside of you, that seeping hot tentacle that stretched your cunt as if that was its job. Their tentacle was white in color other than the tip that grew a lovely pink/red, you bit your lip. Just thinking about it had you opening you legs a bit more.

Vulgora shifted moving their hips and you shake when they do because the way their tip wiggles inside your cervix definitely has you ready to start drooling and have their baby or some shit. Vulgora usually fucks you like your in heat but here, with the screams of death they want to hear you scream for more. It’s a bit sadistic of them in a way but why should they care, it’s only you and them on this row of chairs anyway, everyone else is much closer to the front.

Vulgora’s body is hot against yours and if it wasn’t for their arms wrapping around your midsection you’d probably arch away from the touch. Sometimes their so hot you can’t handle it, and more ways than one. Vulgora suddenly snaps their hips up and it’s so sudden that a scream rips right out of your throat before you can catch it. It mingles in the air mixing with a now dead man down below but now you hand moves to grab their arm.

“V-Vulgora..I can’t..~” you struggle to speak, your toes curling as the tentacle wiggles and squirms inside your belly, your eyes rolling as you bite down on your lip. Vulgora chuckles a mocking chuckle and somehow it makes you even wetter. Their tongue slides out to lick your throat, a gauntlet running up your shirt to expose your breast to the tangy air. “You can if I say you can~.” They mumble against your skin.

Holy fuck, you could cum right now but they’d definitely would turn your bliss into a punishment because did they say you could come yet? No, no they didn’t.

Your clit is so hard at this point and the adrenaline of someone simply turning around and catching you so exposed has you not only scared but squeezing them more. What if someone turned around? The whole stadium would see you taking the Pontifex’s cock like some whore. You started to shake at that thought laying your head back against them because you think you’re about to cum. They hum against your skin because out of all their time of dating you they know what goes on in the filthy little head of yours.

You like this. They grin a little before biting down on your shoulder before making a circle motion with their hips. Oh they way you begged, that’s what they want to hear. They want to hear how much you like it and how much it makes you feel good. Vulgora isn’t one to spend time fucking others so you have such privilege to be getting dicked down by them much less be their actual mate.

They don’t really edge you but you can expect more then one orgasm. When you’re practically crying and begging is when they’ll stop breeding you because now you’re full of cum and boneless against them. You pussy spasms around them and all the can do now is laugh a bit and rub your bloated belly. Even with how rough they can be you can tell they love you. They hands rubbing you carefully as the whisper how good you felt and how impressive you are in your ear.

If anything Vulgora is so in love with you you can proudly say your their addiction. You giggle a little when you finally have to strength to again and they hum lightly at the lovely sound.

Valdemar

Valdemar hasn’t been paying much attention to you but honestly what can you expect from them, you may have gotten them to acknowledge they feel a strong connection for you but when stating how you need their touch or how they should pay more attention to you can still be a bit of a struggle.

You huff seeing their back to you, those talented hands (which your cunt knows all to well at this point, fuck I’m needy now..) working so diligently on the lifeless corpse of some female you didn’t take the time to learn about. You’re in your night cloths having just came out of the shared room that you had been waiting for them in. You’re a bit annoyed to see them still working, it’s not like the body was going anywhere soon..

“Val..are you still working on that...” you sigh lightly and they don’t even bother to look back at you as they speak. “It won’t be for much longer.” They answer without missing a beat. You approached them, naked feet lightly padding against the floor and not much longer your against their back. They pause for a second before moving to look back at you. You give them a look, one of irritation and maybe a bit of an attitude and they don’t say anything as they narrow their gaze a little.

“Are you having more time with her than you are with me?” You mumble childishly against their back as your arms move to close around them and then you hand carefully runs down their chest. They roll their eyes moving to put their utensils down in the bloody tray next to the rotting corpse. “Don’t be absurd darling..” they speak and there’s a bit of a low warning tone behind their mask. Maybe it was the fact that they’d been working for hours when they wanted to join you or perhaps it was you coming out of nowhere with such silly things to say, either way, you could see that this was them telling you to watch yourself.

They noticed that attitude for a couple days now and to say the least they were pretty fed up with it. Fed up with the attitude and/or petty remarks.. You on the other hand scoffed to hide a smug smirk. “Do you like your fingers being in her more than in me?” This time they turned around making you stop and then take a small step back because to be honest you didn’t expect that. They grabbed your wrist holding it up as they got closer, your scent drawing them in.

“What did I just say? Stop the nonsense (y/n) or I’ll punish you.” Oh~ now you shivered a little. You hummed to resist from biting your lip, a punishment huh? Just what you needed. You pressed against their chest looking up at their slim tall figure with an almost challenging look as if you were calling a bluff. You tilted your head “did I strike a nerve? Want some more alone time with your new bitch?”

It happened so fast, them spinning you around and pushing your front down on a newly cleaned table. They pulled your hips up pressing firmly against your back as they leaned down to your ear with a low scoff. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear.” They spoke lowly before a hand was lifting your gown over the round of your ass to reveal those lace panties, their gloves hand traced your skin. You shivered under their surprisingly strong build, biting your bit as you wiggles back against them only for one of their hands to sit right in the small of your back keeping you still. “Drop the attitude.” The hissed lightly.

When you let out a small whimper that’s when they knew this was what you wanted. They paused before humming in a sing song-y way. Their other hand snaked up before wrapping around your throat tilting your head back until your eyes connected with theirs. “Oh now~ I think I see what’s happening here..” they spoke with that sharp gaze. You were already getting super wet at this point and you wanted so desperately to push back against them.

“What a naughty little whore you are (y/n)..” they trailed off a little as something slimy ran up your inner thigh to rub over your clothed cunt before pulling your panties aside revealing your needy cunt that trembled for attention. You could feel it behind you, their body shifting a bit to help in this situation..the tentacle sliding over your clit as another managed to free them from their slacks revealing their tentacock which started as the same color as their skin to black half way.

Soon enough they had pushed inside leaving you breathless as they kept that dominating gaze on you, the hand around your throat squeezing a bit as your pussy hugged them. The long and heavy appendage squirmed inside you and you couldn’t help but spread your legs a bit more and cooe at them. Your stomach bulged a bit and you had to keep your hands firmly down to not completely collapse upon them, hell if it wasn’t for them supporting your back you were nearly positive your legs would buckle.

Once they were completely settled they leaned down to give you a kiss, short and sweet before they started a torturously slow pace allowing you to feel all of them and shake with need. Oh no, not this..Valdemar had quite a bit of patience and you knew that when they say they’d punished you they mean it. The last thing you expected was such cruelty like this though. You let out a broken cry “V-Val!..please~..” you choked out letting out a slight gargle as their hand tightened a bit more around your neck, the other moving to clasp around your hip to keep you from fucking back onto them.

They ignored you, their thrust slow but intensely firm, their cock sinking so deep in you you couldn’t help but cry a little from the slight overstimulation.

The room still had the scent of blood that filled your senses as well as the scent of sex and the wet squelching noises coming from you two. Your moans growing louder and your begs growing more desperate each time they pressed against you, your clit so hard that each time one of the other tentacles would flick it you’d jump with a shout. Valdemar never once looked away from you while you on the other hand couldn’t keep your eyes open or stop letting them roll to the back of your head.

They loved this honestly, putting you in your place and watching you fall apart from just a couple actions and they had to admit, while sex isn’t necessarily important to them they liked to see you so red in the face and twitchy with pleasure. You felt like you been there for hours when you finally came shaky violently, closing your eyes tight and letting out a high pitch cry. Your back arched as much as they’d let you and you came so hard it felt like you had died. Valdemar held you through it, letting up on their grip around your throat.

They weren’t done with you of course, they’d still have yet to cum themselves. For now though they’d hold you until you were ready to take more of your punishment.

[theshatteredrose]

The Dark Guardian (Chapter 4) - Etrian Odyssey 4 Fanfiction

AN: It was oh-so tempting to unleash a bunch of fluffiness family goodness in this chapter, but I restrained myself. Those scenes can be for the book of oneshots. Best remain on track with this fic. I’m thinking five chapters with a short epilogue. Also long chapter, ahoy! Well, anyway, hope you enjoy reading!

Warning: A LOT of violence in this chapter. Proceed with caution.

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet | Inkitt

-

Chapter 4:

Rahas crouched down in front of the fireplace, busying himself with lighting a fire as evening was fast approaching. Gerald had been released from hospital and sent home to rest. And to watch over Ghali.

Yet, the older gunner mustn’t have been listening to the medical instructions of taking it easy that Lynus had spouted at him. Instead, as soon as they got home, he set about creating a place for Ghali to sleep. He and Shiki agreed that, for the night at least, Ghali will sleep in their bed with Gerald, while Shiki slept on the couch with Rahas.

Simmons, of course, offered his bed to Rahas, but he declined. The guy himself had a rough night last night. It would be better for him to try to get a good night’s sleep, too.

Speaking of Simmons, he currently occupied the couch, busy entertaining a babbling Ghali.

Their introduction went as smoothly as everyone had expected. Lynus had introduced Ghali to him, and being the gentle guy he actually was, Simmons knelt down to his level. And introduced himself as Ghali new big brother.

That immediately put the kid’s anxiety at ease. And he latched on him nearly immediately.

Rahas had to admit that it was…cute. He thought he would be annoyed with the tooth-rotting cuteness. But he honestly found it, well, endearing.

With the kid kept busy, and Gerald busy himself getting the bed suitable for a young kid, Shiki had slipped out the back with Farley to gather more wood for the fire. And to rummage around the storage shed back there, silently searching for the clothes that Simmons had when he was a kid.

Even so, he had sent Tiffany and Kerri on a quick errand to buy some kiddie clothes for Ghali. At least pyjamas for the night. The clothes he had on him had…smears of his father’s blood all over them.

With the fire sparking to life, Rahas sat cross-legged on the floor and simply stared into the flames. Everything was moving rather quickly. Unfairly so, honestly. It felt to him that Gerald and Shiki hadn’t had time to properly mourn the brutal murder of an old friend and teammate. They certainly hadn’t been given time to fully comprehend that they had a dependent to take care of.

Though, maybe it was for the best that they didn’t have time to dwell on it?

Rahas had no clue of what to say. What to do. If anything. It was incredibly frustrating.

An unexpected noise caused Rahas to raise his head to listen.

Was that…a whistle…?

Shit!

Rahas snapped his head around in a flurry in Simmons’ direction, and watched as the blue-haired landsknecht’s usually bright eyes became dull and vacant. He was unnaturally still before his body jerked forward.

Where he snatched Ghali up off the couch.

Rahas felt his heart leap into his throat as Simmons wound his large arms around Ghali, holding him firmly against. The little blond was obvious to the potential danger he was in.

Simmons would never, ever hurt someone as small and fragile as Ghali. But “It”, that thing he turned into after the sound of a certain noise, just might.

He had to do something!

“Simmons!”

But before he could do anything, Simmons twitched and backed away from him sharply. With one arm wrapped around Ghali, he snared his sword with the other. He didn’t even look for it. He instinctively knew where it was.

And a split second after that, he was out the door.

Fuck! God damn, shit!

“Shiki! Gerald! Simmons in that trance again!”

That might not be the right words as he was acting differently than how he had been the other day. But from the thousand-yard stare and the unnatural movements, there was no other way to put it. It wasn’t Simmons that was in control.

It was “It”.

Gerald was the first out of his bedroom, staggering slightly because of his still tender injuries. He immediately searched for Ghali with his eyes and soon became panic-stricken when he couldn’t find him.

“Where’s Ghali?” He demanded, though didn’t wait for an answer as he was already out of the front door as Shiki stormed through the back door, having heard Rahas’ yell.

Not bothering to waste time or energy demanding what had happened, Shiki snatched up his katana set by the front door and followed Gerald out. And Rahas himself was hot on his heels.

As the trio followed Simmons through the gradually emptying afternoon streets, it soon dawned upon Rahas where Simmons was heading; into the labyrinth.

Skidding around a corner, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the attempt to keep up, his gaze fell upon a familiar redhead.

Axel had appeared from a side path, axe resting on his back and his attention turned toward the path leading into the labyrinth. He no doubt had seen either Gerald or Shiki and was wondering what the hell was going on.

“Hurry up and follow!” Rahas shouted at him as he sped past him.

“What the hell was going on?” Just as Rahas had predicted, but thankfully the redhead had asked that while sprinting after him.

“Long story. Simmons is in a trance. He has Ghali. And I think that Ahimoth bastard is involved.”

It was no coincidence. No other explanation. That bastard was responsible. He somehow knew of Simmons’…affliction.

Axel didn’t ask any more questions after that, causing Rahas to briefly wondered if he had some knowledge about “It” also. But he pushed that thought aside, instead concentrating on getting into the labyrinth.

The situation was not in their favour. Especially not if that bastard was involved. But what choice did they have? Both Ghali and Simmons were in danger.

Following the fleeing images of Shiki and Gerald in front of him, the two older men surprisingly nimble on their feet, they soon reached a small clearing in what Rahas estimated to be the far corner of the first floor.

There, stood in the centre of the clearing, was Simmons. With Ghali still in his arms. Alive and unharmed. And before them stood…Ahimoth.

Rahas skidded to a halt, next to Shiki and Gerald and gritted his teeth. He knew it. He just knew that bastard was responsible!

“Ahimoth!” Shiki snarled and unsheathed his blade violently. His voice was so filled with hatred that it honestly shocked Rahas for a moment. He had never heard the man utter anything with such rage before.

It wasn’t a surprise, however.

“Hello, Shiki. Long-time no see,” Ahimoth said, sadistically cheerily in response. “A ronin now, I see. What a career change! And Gerald, looking spritely for someone your age. I’m impressed!”

Such a patronizing asshole.

“Give Ghali back,” Gerald all but pleaded as he took a step forward. “He’s…he’s just a child.”

Ahimoth, however, smirked. He reached down into the collar of his cloak and revealed…a whistle.

Rahas felt a chill race down his spine as Ahimoth brought the whistle to his lips. And blew into it.

Immediately, Simmons staggered forward a step. And then another.

“Already attached to the kid, Gerald? I think I might keep the kid myself then,” Ahimoth jeered.

Gerald took another hasty step forward, only to land roughly on his injured leg and he abruptly crumbled to his knees, landing heavily on his hands. Shiki instinctively dropped down by his side, hand on his back to help him.

But Gerald frantically shook his head and tried to push himself to his feet himself. “No. Stop him. He’ll-”

Ghali suddenly let out a terrified cry, everyone immediately snapping their attention back to the small kid, expecting the worse. But Ghali was still sat in Simmons’ arms. He had his hands grasping at Simmons’ muscular shoulder, clutching onto him, so afraid.

“No! Bad man! Bad man hurt mummy and daddy!”

Simmons stilled suddenly, though his gaze remained vacant and distant. He then equally suddenly dropped down to one knee. And set Ghali down onto his feet. As he pulled his arm back, and with Ghali looking up at him with watery eyes, he…patted the small boy on the head.

His touch was…tender.

Ghali stared up at Simmons as he pushed himself back to his full height. He then turned and ran toward Gerald, whom of which had dropped to his own knees and held open his arms toward him. To which the boy immediately raced into, snuggling his face against Gerald’s chest as he wound his arms tightly around him.

Simmons…he was still in there. Somewhere.

Ahimoth was less than pleased, however. That sadistic smirk was replaced with a sneer of distain. “Rather unexpected,” he murmured quietly to himself. “Had it weakened?”

…Had what weakened?

Ahimoth quickly picked up a whistle from hanging around his neck again and blew sharply into it. A loud and piercing sound was immediately heard, so sharp that Rahas instinctively winced. That sound was similar to the one he heard when Simmons first…

Simmons became ridged for a second. Then, in a flurry of movement, unsheathed his blade and launched himself in the direction where Rahas stood with everyone else.

A hard shove from the redhead next to him pushed Rahas aside. He somehow managed to stay up on his feet, and he spun around in time to watch as two landsknechts clash – sword against axe.

Simmons’ movements were swift, brutal. He wasn’t holding back. Yet, Axel was able to counter each attack. Deflecting, hindering, pushing back – but never actually attacking. Was he unable to due to the volley of Simmons’ attacks? Or…unwilling to do so?

Shit, it didn’t matter. He was keeping him busy. That was enough.

“Gerald, get out of here!” Rahas ordered.

Gerald seemed to have entertained the same thought as he was already up on his own feet, arms wrapped securely around little Ghali. However, before he was able to turn and flee, an unstable war magic circle appeared right in front of him. And in a flash of light, he was down on his knees once more.

“Gerald!”

Shiki instinctively tried to make it to Gerald’s side, only for him, too, to endure a sudden magic circle. And, just like with Gerald, he dropped to the ground. While remaining upright on his knees, his body twitched violently. His movements were unnaturally sluggish as he stabbed his blade into the ground and leaned heavily against it.

“Shiki!”

“N…no,” Shiki murmured, peering over at Rahas through one eye. “Stay back. Protect Gerald.”

Rahas hesitated for a moment before he did a half turn and hurried to Gerald. He knelt down by his side, hand on his shoulder in an attempt to learn what was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”

Gerald rubbed hastily at his eyes, a subtly panicked expression on his face. “I…can’t see a thing. It’s completely black.”

Shit, a blindness curse.

That meant, Shiki…

“Oh, a blinding curse for Gerald and a paralyse curse for Shiki, hm?” Ahimoth commented idly, dismissively at first. But he soon chuckled menacingly. “The wonders of the Random Disease spell. Though, I would have enjoyed watching you hack and slash at yourself to remove a poison curse, Shiki.”

Shiki released a low hiss as he glared in Ahimoth’s direction. “How did you know about that?

A wicked smile spread across Ahimoth’s lips. “Oh? You already did that? Ah, maybe your arm, hm?”

What…?

Ahimoth suddenly and defy stepped to the side, mere seconds before a gunshot rang out. However, one of his dreadlocks exploded in a flurry of matted hair and drop to the ground at his feet. Far from annoyed or baffled, he smiled manically. He reached into his robes, pulled out a silver knife and with a oh-so casual flick of his wrist, threw it to his left.

Where it was promptly followed by a scream that was a mix of pain and surprise.

“Try aiming for the chest next time!” Ahimoth laughed.

Rahas whipped his head around toward the source of the noise. And was honestly surprised that it was Tiffany. In her right hand was her handgun, and a knife sticking clean through her wrist and forearm. She…had been the one to take that shot at him.

From the angle…was she aiming for his head? Or was it a warning shot?

Tiffany clenched her jaw in an attempt to hold back the tears as she grabbed the handle of the knife – and ripped it out of her arm. She attempted to stifle a scream of pain, but ultimately (and understandably) failed. Blood gushed out of the wound and she dropped the knife to clasp her hand around the injury.

As Tiffany tried to stifle the blood, a bristling and honestly angry Kerri slipped in front of her. Her robes bristled protective, the bell ringing around her neck. She appeared ready to unleash a curse or spell of her own, only to suddenly still.

What was she-?

Shit, right; war magi’s have the ability to dispel a curse or physical ailment onto something else. Usually aimed toward monsters, but this bastard would not hesitate to inflict another person’s curse onto human victims.

With another bristle of her robes, Kerri sunk back to stand by Tiffany’s side. And with one of the snaking tears of her tattered clothing, wrapped a make-shift bandage around the heavily bleeding injury to Tiffany’s wrist.

As Rahas began to wonder how to the two girls found them, he heard a low, mournful whine. He snapped his attention back to Gerald, only to find a certain blue-furred wolf by his side, tail between his legs and uttering low whines as he scurried in a skittish, unsure fashion around Gerald.

Farley obviously led the way.

With one arm still holding Ghali close, Gerald flailed out an arm and placed a hand on Farley’s head, momentarily stilling him. “Tiffany, Kerri; don’t fight him! Take Ghali and get out of here!”

He then unfurled his arm from around Ghali and settled him on his feet. With Tiffany still clutching her arm, she staggered toward them. No objections were uttered from the blonde-haired gunner. But little Ghali didn’t want to leave Gerald. Crying and reaching out to him with his tiny little arms as Gerald tried to push him toward the staggering blonde.

“It’ll be ok. Be a good boy and go with Tiffany.” It clearly hurt Gerald to have to push a needy child away from him. It hurt him so much when all he truly wanted to go was to hug the child. To comfort him.

Despite her bleeding hand, Tiffany knelt down and gathered Ghali into her arms. She held him tightly, her expression heartbreaking as Ghali continued to cry and reach out for Gerald.

Gerald then reached out to wrap an arm around Farley’s neck and pressed his forehead against his. “Lead them home.”

Farley released a low, mournful whine. He obviously knew what Gerald had asked of him. He obviously didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to leave him, Shiki, and Simmons. Yet, he had been given a purpose. A goal.

He licked Gerald’s face before he turned away from him, dutifully doing as instructed. Wordlessly, Tiffany pushed herself to her feet. And with her head down, blood splattering across the green grass, she ran. With Kerri by her side.

As their footsteps, and Ghali’s cries faded away, Gerald uttered a sigh and his shoulders dropped forward. In relief, perhaps. Or in defeat.

Gerald was…quite the gentle guy, huh?

He had already lost Shiki once; he would not be able to survive losing Shiki and Simmons. That…was one of the reasons he stayed, wasn’t it? If they left him, he’d…

He’d follow.

Rahas gritted his teeth. No. He couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s always so much more fun when they run,” Ahimoth purred once more.

Shiki stabbed his blade into the ground and with his body jolting and trembling randomly, he managed to push to his feet. “You. What did you do to my son?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Ahimoth whirled around on Shiki, overly and mockingly dramatic. “I cursed him. Yup. Not just any curse, oh no. But one that took me a whole five minutes to inflict upon him.”

Five damn minutes? To think that child Simmons was forced to endure being under that man’s hold for that long…

“It’s akin to a fear spell, I suppose you could say. Whenever he hears a certain sound, even one similar to this whistle, will put him into a frenzied state where he will attack anything and everything. What a lovely little gift for dear ol’ Gerald and the residents of town to endure, hm?”

“You…” Gerald murmured; his voice low, almost breathless with shock. “You did it on purpose?”

“Of course I did! Did you think I left him alive by accident?” Ahimoth threw his head back in laughter. “Oh, no no no. I truly did that on purpose. I wanted you, dear ol’ Gerald, to stumble through the entirety of the murder scene in search of the brat.”

Gerald’s eyes widen as his breath hitched in his throat and he sat back on his heels. Virtually slumping to the ground in disbelief.

Rahas, himself, felt his blood burn with anger. That bastard…was unbelievable! Demented. Evil. To cause so much suffering and mayhem by himself? He needed to be stopped. For good.

“You…” Shiki growled, his whole body trembling ever so slightly. Before he snapped his head up, snared his blade, and lunged at Ahimoth. “You bastard!”

Ahimoth, however, just laughed as he raised his own sword and countered Shiki’s attack. “I’m not done explaining. Because, best of all, breaking the curse will cause the memories to return in a violent rush. And, well, it might just kill him~”

C-could it? Could a curse, a spell truly do that to someone?

Wait…Lynus was able to inspect auras. He was the leading expert in discovering and removing curses. Did he…know about Simmons’ curse? If Ahimoth was telling the truth, then Lynus would have figured it out on his own, right?

That ointment…

“So, what will you do?” Ahimoth suddenly asked, ripping Rahas from his thoughts. “The precious brat won’t stop until he either hears another whistle, or has killed everyone here. Of course, there is a third option. One that involves someone killing him first…”

No, that wasn’t an option!

Swiftly turning his attention back to the battling landsknechts, he watched as Axel planted a foot against Simmons’ stomach and pushed him back, causing the two to separate. He took that moment to re-establish a fighting stance, while Simmons unexpectedly stilled. Axel was rightly panting from exertion. Anyone would in his situation. But not Simmons. He showed no signs of tiring.

That had to be by design. Simmons pushing himself beyond his limits. That was the fourth option, wasn’t it? Simmons fighting himself to death…

God damn it!

Slowly, Simmons raised his sword, grasping it with two hands, prompting Axel to tense. He didn’t immediately move forward to attack him once more, however. He stood stock still for the longest time, prompting Axel eye his surroundings suspiciously. And for Ahimoth himself to arch a curious eyebrow.

Simmons suddenly loosened his grip on his weapon, twisted it around so that the sharp blade was angled directly toward his own stomach.

Rahas stopped breathing when Simmons’ tightened his grip around the handle and hilt once more.

As Simmons moved to stab himself, Axel lunged forward, dropping his axe as he did so. He reached Simmons just seconds before the blade was seem jutting out clean through Simmons’ body.

Blood seeped along the glistening blade.

Yet, it was Axel who wore a grimace on his face. It soon became apparent why and the realisation unexpectedly made Rahas start breathing again. In an act of sheer desperation, Axel had grabbed the sharp blade, angling it in such a way that the blade passed by Simmons’ side. Close enough to cut at his armour, but preventing more fatal injuries.

Preventing the sword from hurting Simmons.

Preventing Simmons from hurting himself.

Axel gritted his teeth as he unfurled one of his hands from the blade. He then curled it into a fist and delivered a sharp jab to the sword. And broke it into several pieces, snapping it clean at the hilt.

The sword…was completely useless now.

Axel staggered back a couple of steps, panting slightly as he held up his bloodied hands, which were trembling slightly. He wore his armour, but the blade was still so sharp it sliced through the metal and into Axel’s hands. He still had movements in his hands, with him flexing his fingers by curling and unfurling them. It appeared that the cuts were only flesh wounds.

Something Axel himself was relieved to realise.

He still ripped off his scarf, hastily tearing it into two pieces and wound them around his hands. All the while, Ahimoth stared at him, sadistically impressed.

“Again, very impressive!” Ahimoth congratulated, as he kicked Shiki in the stomach to push him back, momentarily winding him.

An expression of hatred and anger appeared on Axel’s face as he side-eyed the bastard. And his hatred only grew (as did Rahas’) when they both realised that Ahimoth had oh-so casually reinstated a paralysed curse on Shiki once more. This one more vicious than the first.

“But, you know; landsknechts aren’t any less dangerous without a weapon.” Ahimoth idly trailed a finger over the scar marring his left cheek, still grinning that wretched grin of his. “That bitch certainly wasn’t.”

So, Sandra managed to land a scarring blow, huh? That would explain the brutality of her death; his form of twisted, self-serving justice.

“Your eyes are just like hers,” Ahimoth continued, the sadistic glee in his eyes taking on a decidedly more crazed expression. “Oh, how I will have fun with you later. Alas, for now, I’ll leave you with the brat. Unless, of course, you’re willing to let him go murderous on everyone else here while you try to defeat me?”

Without giving Axel the chance to bite out some kind of response (likely a bitter and violent “Fuck you!”), Ahimoth picked up the whistle tied around his neck. And blew into it sharply.

Prompting Simmons to jerk forward, staggering into a brawling stance.

“For fuck’s sake!” Axel hissed as he ducked a punch and slipped around behind Simmons. Where his experience dealing with drunkards at the bar paid off; he grabbed Simmons by his arms, locked them behind his head, restraining him surprisingly efficiently.

Rahas would never admit it aloud, but he was glad for Axel’s presence and strength. Things would have gone a lot more…fatally if he wasn’t involved.

“I’ve got him. Do something about that asshole!” Axel barked.

Doing something about that asshole was obvious. But do what exactly?

“God damn it, Simmons!” Axel hissed as the blue-haired landsknecht twitched and convulsed under his grip. “Stop fighting yourself and instead focus your attention on freeing you own damn mind. I can handle whatever you throw at me; it’ll be karma for the times I’ve beaten you. Just focus on yourself for once!”

Simmons still for a moment, as if responding to Axel’s words. Before he suddenly, and violently pulled an arm from Axel’s grip, plunge his hand into the pocket of his pants, and pulled out a small glass bottle. It looked vaguely familiar to Rahas, but before he had the chance to ponder that thought further, Simmons tightened his grip on the bottle.

And smashed it against his forehead!

“Make it stop!” he screamed as blood and golden liquid seeped through his fingers and down his face. “I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

Simmons lurched forward unsteadily and out of Axel’s hold completely, where he then stilled before swaying. Axel instinctually stepped forward to catch him should he fall. And he did, straight into Axel’s arms and chest. The sudden weight must have startled Axel as they both fell to their knees, with Simmons’ arms around him and his face pressed against Axel’s chest.

Where he proceeded to cry.

“I never…I never wanted to��hurt anyone…”

Axel was clearly dumbfounded as he allowed Simmons to sob against his chest. His shock and surprise were something Rahas himself had felt; it was the realisation that the goofy, dim-witted Simmons was a lot more complex than first thought. That his carefree smiles hid untold pain.

He…knew more about himself and his surroundings then he led on.

“Tch.” Ahimoth made a sound of annoyance and displeasure. “I don’t know what the fuck was in that bottle, and I will admit that I am mildly frustrated. Nothing should have been able to interfere with my curses.”

He truly believed that, huh? Did that mean he hadn’t a clue about Lynus?

It had better stay that way.

A twisted, wicked smile soon returned to Ahimoth’s lips. “However, perhaps I should see this as a blessing, hm? That means I get to kill you all with my own hands…”

Rahas instinctively moved to stand in front of Gerald. Out of everyone involved, Ahimoth had paid Rahas little to no attention. He…didn’t see him as an interest. As a threat. Probably didn’t even know who the hell he was.

That was mildly insulting, though…it might be true. Shiki and Axel were both…stronger than he was. They were more of a threat, weren’t they?

Rahas was just a spectator.

God damn it…

Ahimoth’s eyes flickered over in Rahas’ direction, but looked clear past him. To where Gerald was, still suffering from a blindness curse. “Maybe I should start with Gerald. He’ll never see it coming, you could say.”

Before Ahimoth could do anything, though, he stepped swiftly to the side. Just as a flash of steel was seen. Shiki, while still enduring the effects of another paralysing curse, had managed to gather enough strength to unleash another attack, purposely drawing Ahimoth’s attention toward him.

“Oh, you want to fight me yourself, Shiki?” Ahimoth let out another haunting, violently sadistic laugh as he raised his sword. “You better win. Otherwise, well, I’m sure you can imagine what would happen. After all, I won’t stop. Only death itself will be able to stop me.”

…Death, huh?

Rahas thought back to Lynus. To his regret of having taken a life. No, forced to take a life. It was the only way. Evil, like the one that Taksony possessed, would not have been stopped any other way. Nothing would have convinced that old bastard to simply let go of all the power he possessed. All the fear he held over others.

Only death.

Yet, knowing all that…Lynus still felt regret.

He was…innocent. A healer. A pacifist. A carer. He shouldn’t have had to do something like that.

No one with a pure, innocent soul should have to do what someone else, someone capable, could do. Should do. Innocence. Evil. And the morally grey. That was what he was; not innocent, not evil. Someone who protected the innocent from the evil. The grey. Should justice fail, they were the ones who did the dirty work. So the hands of innocents wouldn’t be stained. So the hearts of innocents wouldn’t be burdened.

Just like those of legend written in that book.

Rahas reached down and picked up the carelessly discarded knife. He gripped it tightly in his right hand as he deftly raked a hand through his hair, pulling the white strains from his eyes.

He had made his decision. No going back.

Justice wasn’t moving fast enough. So, he had to.

[avenger-hawk]

Why do you like Kakasasu?

I waited to reply to this because I wanted to be sure it wasn’t a troll and it wasn’t a drama starting attempt (like this or this, gems found in the sasuke/KS tag) since it’s a subject I am very interested in.

I replied to Kakashi/Sasuke related asks, shippy or not shippy, here, here and here. More about them here, here and here. Put yourself comfortable cause this is gonna be long. Not putting it under a readmore cause I remember ppl complaining they coulnd’t open it on mobile phones (?). Also, moralists who are lurking: don’t interact, get out of my blog. Youll be blocked on sight.

When I started reading N*ruto I was into Bleach a lot, and the fact that the characters were a little older and looked older made me not get into Nar that much at first, because they looked like kiddies lol. I didn’t care about Nar as a character and his initial rivalry with Sas was cute but not enough to get me interested. Only when Kakashi got closer to Sasuke I started being veery interested in the story and in the characters. What I found intriguing was that Kakashi was older and an authority figure, but also someone to look up and who helped his students, BUT at the same time he wasn’t exactly a father-like figure or a big brother-like figure, because he had his dark side, that back then wasn’t well flashed out but that nevertheless showed a closed-off person who kept everything inside, not letting others get too close to him.

(then I started liking N*rusasu mostly because there were so many cool doujinshi especially Emi10/Rankai and Engawaken, while KS doujinshi were so meh, kinda in old yaoi style like Loveless, with tiny Sas who looked even younger hahaha, not my thing)

As those who know my blog and/or my writing know already, I am not interested in healthy, cute, positive dynamics in fiction. I might enjoy them, I might be happy when there are such moments, but I can’t like a whole relationship/dynamic/story only like this because I like to explore complicated ones in fiction.Because fiction is very useful for this, it makes you explore dark, taboo things, without affecting reality (no matter what idiots say), it’s cathartic, it’s a way to do, see, experience things without doing anything.

Back to topic tho, I found their initial dynamic very intriguing. A broken, traumatized yet extremely driven Sasuke, acting as confident and strong as he can, but showing his trauma in various occasions, otherwise being mostly aloof, lost in his own thoughts, and a differently broken Kakashi, acting chill but at the same time always ready to act when needed, yet always kinda distracted, aloof, lost in his owh thoughts (and later we’ll know he took Obito’s mannerisms because he was a stickler to rules). The way Kakashi takes a special interest for Sasuke, clearly the most driven, the best of the team, with whom he holds back much less (when he trains them, like when in the beginning, during the bell test, he fights with Sas and seeing that he almost took it, he overpowers him) while he is different with the others (Nar will have Jiraiya later). The way he protects Sasuke during the chuunin exams, while he’s in the hospital and Kabuto is trying to kill him.

Mostly, the controversial moments...like I said I live for these kind of things. where he both protects and threatens him...like when he does that seal to Sasuke, for his curse mark, and he tells him that if that curse mark takes over he’ll kill him. Or when he ties Sasuke up so he won’t join Orochimaru.

Before someone says bs like *you’re not Sas fan if you like that scene* (I know there are many like this and I want all of them out of my blog btw) uh, it’s not how it works guys. You can support a character and still be intrigued by scenes where said character is tied up/in a forcibly submitted position and so on. Guess what, some of those scenes are made for fanservice even (and Sas has many of these, so if you don’t see the appeal/refuse to admit that there is appeal, it’s you who have a problem). So even tho I disagree with Kakashi not wanting to listen to Sasuke’s reasons for revenge (and later supporting SHikamaru’s, I replied to this in one of the asks I linked) I do find that scene interesting...I mean Sasuke tied up in a very suggestive way and yet defying him and threatening to kill his loved ones and Kakashi opening up in a very weird way vaguely replying that he lost those ppl already? It shows a lot about them, their personalities, everything.

I am sticking to part 1 because there are more meaningful interactions between them, I wished there were more in part 2 but kishi shifted Kakashi’s ‘interest’ to Nar, making him one of Nar’s followers...even so, the intractions they had were very interesting. Their fight after Sasuke fights Danzo is one of my fave moments in the whole story tbh, much more than the later confrontation with Nar. Kakashi for the first time has an inner only, yet strong, emotional reaction, having to fight and supposedly kill his former student who became a rogue with a death sentence on his head...he realizes this is how Hiruzen felt against Orochimaru. It’s a strong realization from someone like him who was always so closed off and aloof that he totally lacked empathy.

On the other hand Sasuke is in a different mindset. He’s sort of high for having succeeded in eliminating the one who made Itachi suffer so much, he’s thinking about killing the elders and destroy the village, so he’s basically lost in the recent past of Danzo’s death and in the future plans he’s making, he’s not in the present moment almost...but he has to fight anyway, and it’s a cool fight, also because he’s weakened already and Kakashi is strong...and then he gets blind, totally, and it’s an amazingly intriguing moment, the kind of controversial stuff I’m interested in, because that’s when he could be totally overpowered by Kakashi, if the story didn’t have other priorities (putting Nar in the center of attention with their confrontation).

Their later moments, like during the war, are meh cause the interest shifted already completely, but their moments in jail (anime only ofc) and their Shinden interactions (only through messages) are interesting to me. Very much so, because they show power dynamics very well, with Kakashi as THE authority and Sasuke as the one submitted. In jail it’s even more evident with him looking down at the younger tied up and blindfolded...like, wow. It’s like fanfiction material (in fact I wrote one (ff.net/a03) and there was the coolest fanart inspired by it! here..there were more but this came on my dash today so).

You mentioned power dynamics...their dynamics are all power dynamics because Kakashi was never at Sasuke’s same level and he never acted like he was, and when Sasuke was stronger, during the war, they basically didn’t interact, and when the war was over and Sasuke was brainwashed and tamed into submission the power dynamic remained the same.

The difference imo between them and other power dynamics based pairings is that they are closer than what could be defined rare pairings such as Obito (they had a very interesting one tho, if only it was developed), Madara (the story was already developed in a pro Konoha-anti Uchiha way but it would have been so cool to have the 2 Uchiha interact more), or other older and stronger characters, so the dynamic could be written in a cool way in a fanfiction but in canon Kakashi created it already. So, while I can imagine something like Shisui/Sasuke, Obisasu or more, in my head, and I can come up with some AU or canon divergent/canon behind the screen (like when Sas stayed with Obito after the transplant), Kakashi and Sasuke had canon interactions that showed power dynamics already.

(Then there is Itasasu, which is a huge power dynamic based relationship, that also had amazingly strong feelings though, and those who know me know that for me Itachi will always be Sasuke’s most loved person, and that he was the same for Itachi. So ofc imo IS is a much stronger bond compared to KS but still. Also I remember in the beginning how many fics I read where Itachi was abusive to Sas and Kakashi stepped in lol. And it’s not a mystery that even though I think the IS bond is the strongest I find other pairings and character dynamics very interesting, so much that I like to explore them even more than IS, which, imo, is almost a given fact so I don’t always feel the need to explore it)

Another thing I find intriguing is that Kakashi always saw Sas at his ‘worst’...in Konoha’s terms I mean. When he wanted revenge in pt 1, after he killed Danzo and he was weak and so desperate and hysterical that they thought he got crazy, when he was jailed. It’s a big power he has, to be able to see someone like this.

Tbh it’s a pity that there were no post war moments (B*ruto shit doesn’t count) where they interact ‘normally’ cause I would have liked to see them, both as normal interactions where they get closer again, now that Sas is older, where they train and they get physical (and Kakashi has a lot of repressed anger, jealousy and possessiveness to let out on the one who betrayed his sensei and went to another...not my opinion but it could be Kakashi’s pov) because I think power dynamic would come up a lot, even from apparently cute moments.

I’ll end this super long essay hoping that you didn’t fall asleep lol, and adding that Kakasasu was the first Nar pairing I shipped, which it speaks a lot about why I get so irritated when someone mentions it negatively.

[toukenramblings]

How To Lose Your Tantous: Gokotai, Shinano Toushirou, Taikogane Sadamune

No collage/artsy thingy this time. This time, you are getting a meme. Warnings: None. I’m funny I swear

The three tantous known as Gokotai, Shinano, and Taikogane have been with you since the beginning. Kiwame or not, these three have stuck by your side since forever and you wanted to thank them for their work. So why not take them to the mall to relax????

The minute you announce that to the trio however, their eyes light up. Sada-chan is already half way out the door and trying to drag you along with him. “Let’s go! What are we waiting for????”

Shinano is a bit more calm but he’s also tugging on your arm, not as hard as Taikogane but enough to be like, “Let’s go! Let’s go! I want to see what’s out there!!!”

Poor Gokotai on the other hand is worried you’ll be torn apart and tries to get them to calm down. Sadly he can’t bring his tiger(s) with him on the day trip but he makes a shy request to hold your hand during the trip. Of course you comply because who the fuck wouldn’t want to hold Gokotai’s hand???????? My baby boi

Of course just as you lot are about to leave, you get accosted by KIkkou, Yagen, Ichigo, Micchan, and Ookurikara.

“If anything happens to my little brother master...well,” Kikkou would say with a smirk, a familiar red rope in his hands. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you or anything. But he turns to Taikogane and begins to lecture him, telling him not to give you a lot of trouble.

“You lot be careful. Do keep an eye on my brothers, general.” Yagen would say with a smile. You know he wouldn’t try to threaten you or anything.

“Come back safely!” Micchan would say, having packed snacks for all of you. “Most of all, enjoy yourselves!”

Ookurikara is the one holding back the tiger(s) from following Gokotai outside of the citadel. It hurts Gokotai to be away from them but if Ookurikara is going to take care of them they are in good hands. He won’t say much, he trusts that the four of you will be alright.

And then you lose Sada-chan the minute you arrive at the mall. Taikogane didn’t mean to disappear on you like that! He saw something shiny in the distance and had to follow it! Shinano was hot on his heels though, so at least you know those two are together.

Gokotai refuses to leave your side, still very much holding on to your hand. He swings your arms a little, flushing and stopping when you notice, then asking if it’s okay. If Taikogane and Shinano are back from their shenanigans, you and the other will hold both hands of Gokotai and gently yeet him forward like you do with lil kids!

At this rate you might as well get kiddie leashes for Taikogane and Shinano since they will immediately run off to do whatever the hell they want.

Taikogane will always be on the look out for clothing, trying to look cool and impressive. “What do you think?! Do you like this on me??? I think Micchan will like this too! Oooh maybe I should bring back some clothing for the rest of them! We all can match!”

Shinano loves it when you spoil him, giving you puppy eyes as he points at something, “Can you buy this for me, pleaseeeee? I’ll be good I promise! And I’ll help you carry your bags too!” and then you cave.

Say goodbye to your bank account.

Gokotai on the other hand is much more subdued, when he sees something that he’s interested in he will lightly tug on your sleeve or arm and shyly question, “M-May I go see what that is?” and point at the thingy, then of course he will run off. He won’t go too far, oh no, he will always look over his shoulder to see if you are watching him/if he can still see you.

If you, the saniwa, are short as hell like the rest of them, be prepared for heart attack o’clock, all day every day. It’s hard to see them within a crowd so you will have to shout for them all the time. Shinano is easy to see due to his red hair, Gokotai is smol as fuck so it causes some issues and Taikogane is...somewhat easy to see? Just find him at the most flashy and cool things in the mall, or whatever the hell catches his eye.

Bless everything if you are tall as fuck though. You can see them over everyone and they can see you! They will never get lost if they can see you over everyone! They’ll immediately run back to you and tackle you into a hug (Gokotai is slightly sobbing at this point but it’s okay, just hug him and don’t you dare let him out of your sight every again)

What kind of stores do these boys like? Well, Taikogane will zoom in on anything that catches his eye. Clothing, trinkets, books, games, shiny things, whatever the hell! You’ll have to follow him everywhere though. He gets distracted by everything and you need to keep him on track. Is that one kid who is suddenly found carrying 60 plushies because you turned your back on him ONCE.

Shinano is slightly more controlled than Taikogane but he will also go find things that catch his eye. He’s more into the clothing stories though, finding little jackets and sweaters his brothers could wear! He will want to spoil the younger ones (you and Shinano have to hide any gift for Gokotai though, he’s right there after all, and you want it be a surprise!) and Shinano loves seeing their eyes light up when they get their gift. Of course he might gave and give his present to Gokotai early. Other than clothing stories, I would say Shinano is into little figures. Animals, historical figures, worldly places, who knows? He likes collecting things a lot.

Gokotai will adore bookstores and pet shops. He’ll find new toys and stuff for his tiger(s) and will love to get them a little collar with a bell on it. He likes bells, he honestly thinks that they are nice. As for bookstores, Gokotai would immediately look for fairy tales and books about animals with happy endings. He adores books and even more so when you or someone else offers to read to him! Hell, he even comes into your office with a book of his choice just for you to read to him!

Lord help you if they have an arcade/gaming corner in the mall. Gokotai doesn’t like all of the loud stuff but is enamored by the plushies. He’ll stick close to you while Taikogane and Shinano are trying to kill each other in lazer tag - wait where did they go? Why are those two suddenly bowling? Get back here!

If you have a cellphone with you, be prepared to take pictures of the little ones every 14 seconds. They’re just...so fucking cute. It makes your heart melt and almost sob.

Someone probably mistakes you as their parent or elder sibling. Just to play around, Taikogane and Shinano will call you by a parental term and maybe you’ll start crying right then and there. Just maybe.

Snacks? Snacks. These boys burn through energy so fucking fast so the snacks that Shokudaikiri gave you guys are gone by the second hour of spending time in the mall. Off to the food court you go! They’re willing to try anything new really!

If you happen to have someone you are romantically interested in (especially if one of Shinano’s elder bros or Sada-chan’s bros/other Dategumi) expect these two will casually slip in (not too) subtle hints. “Oh he’ll love this, I swear! Especially if it’s coming from you!” “Oooo, maybe you should give this to him! You know...for no reason.” Gokotai is at least polite about it. “I-I think that this...would make a great gift for someone!”

Lord help anyone who makes one of the tantous cry. Gokotai tripped over air once back at the citadel and you were ready to fistfight God themself. If someone trips over one of your boys or like sneers at them, you will immediately roll up your sleeves and go to town. All three of them have to hold you back but even then it’s a struggle.

By the time you four get home, the car is full of package to the point Gokotai has to sit on Shinano’s lap and all three of them are dead asleep. You need half of the citadel to help you get these damn gifts out of the car and carry the boys back to their room.

[damerondala]

🍒 Okay tub time with Kix? 😗👌🏻 Exquisite. So good. Where do i find such a caring man ugh and a clean bathtub chores suck

New Cherry Thot of the Week… This one’s hella self-indulgent but don’t worry bestie, i’m dragging you along for the ride too… Picture it: The Marauder, 19 BBY (did i spend 3 minutes looking that up for this dumb joke? yeah…) Somehow, you and I have joined up with the Bad Batch on some kind of mission. Details don’t matter because the important thing is we’re sharing a tiny spaceship with 5 hunks. 🥰 But obvs we have our favorites… I’m going with Wrecker for you (i know you love Hunter too, but just hear me out, this thot has a purpose) and Crosshair for me.

But here’s the thing. We somehow figure out they like us back (maybe Tech spills the beans), AND they have a bet going… Who can win us over first? Because these 2 are always competing over something with each other right?

And like hot damn, but also ohh there’s so much we can do with this info 😈 We both start teasing our respective guys, leading them on a little, not giving in to their flirting or anything so they can’t say they’ve won the bet for a while. They get more frustrated. More… pent up… And… well… so do we…

Uh oh. Maybe we can’t play this much longer. Maybe one day it’s too much, and one of us races to our crush prepared to just kiss them silly, only to find they had the same idea. And then afterward we try to find the other, and discover they couldn’t hold out with their guy either 🙈 And maybe it’s awkward, maybe Wrecker and Crosshair argue over who actually won forever, but it was kinda weirdly fun anyway. We’re happy, and happy for each other. /EndofSappyStory 🍒

cherry. my love. my life.

this might be the best thing that you have ever gifted me holy fuck the way i BLUSHED while reading this??? whooooooo jesus i love this so much!!! 😭 okay lots to unpack here:

1. excellent golden girls reference again. made me giggle and i appreciate the research tech would be proud of u hehe

2. you and i being bffs in this thot made me so happy aw

3. EXCELLENT CHARACTER CHOICE FOR US OMFG i couldn't stop thinking about the "don't worry wrecker you'll top him next time" "no he wOnT" while reading bc omfg those lines applied to this kind of bet????? AAAAHHHHH IM HAVING A CRISIS

i'm gonna write this in sections, actual encounters with the boys happen in sections 3 and 4 with our sexy murder toothpick man being up first! also this is gonna be pre-omega but post-echo joining the batch 

self indulgent filth and fluff in the form of some reader insert thots below ;) 

18+ as always kiddies. i really hope you enjoy! this was so fun to write 

section 1: the bet 

so i imagine this happening right after you guys joined the squad

and it certainly didn't take long for crosshair and wrecker to realize their feelings for you two beautiful women, although one was more brazen about his feelings than the other

one day when hunter had sent you and your friend into a market to pick up a short list of supplies, they got to talking 

crosshair made an offhand remark about his girls’ ass which made wrecker fidget, he never was very composed when it came to pretty girls and this caused all the other members of the batch share knowing looks and smirks

“wrecker if you’re trying to be discreet about your feelings for ___ you’re going to have to do stop fidgeting.” tech noted, rolling his eyes when wrecker started stuttering out excuses but he was cut off by echo

“give ‘im a break. at least he isn't as vulgar as crosshair” 

“you’re just jealous she doesn't flirt with you, mir'osik” (i had to search up insults in mando’a and this one means shit for brains and when i tell you i died laughing okay anyways sorry)

this made echo roll his eyes, deciding it wasn't worth it to fight over whatever stupid insult the sniper threw at him

wanting to stir the pot juuust a bit, hunter proposed a challenge for his vod. he should be the good influence on his brothers, but he couldn't help but want to see where these crushes would take them

he could hear the girls’ heartbeats intensify around their respective crushes anyways, so he had a pretty good feeling that they felt the same about his batch mates

“don’t know about the rest of you, but i want to see who can win his girl over first” this was met with a smirk from crosshair, a blush from wrecker, and side glances shared between echo and tech

“easy.” crosshair drawled, he knew he had this in the bag

he may be quieter than the others but boy was he was observant, taking note of the way her words had a hard time flowing out of her pretty mouth when he was in close proximity of his girl

wrecker on the other hand didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, in his eyes she was just so sweet. innocent, really. she wouldn’t want the same treatment he knew crosshair had in mind for his girl

the peering eyes of his squad made the large man cave with a sigh, “fine.”

section 2: the slip up

weeks had gone by since the boys established their little competition and you, your friend, and tech were working on some small repairs around the ship

you and your friend had noticed some increased...flirting from your respective guys

crosshair paid more compliments and lingering touches that seemed genuine

and wrecker flirted the best way he knew how; lifting too heavy objects and reaching for items in the tall cargo holds, handing them down with a gentle smile

tech, being the most blunt member of the squad, commented on the whispers you exchanged, dropping a surprising truth on both of your ears:

“well of course they are trying to flatter you. how else do you settle a bet to win each of you over the fastest?” 

tech watched the two women freeze before him, sharing shocked looks before turning their attention to him, realization hit his gut like a crate of durasteel, and he swallowed under your stern gazes

“what do you mean, goggles?” 

“they...like us?”

tech’s cheeks burned red hot, was his brow beginning to sweat? maker, it felt like it 

this was the one time he didn’t feel like explaining himself, instead choosing to coyly excuse himself from the two pairs of watchful eyes

he left you and your friend to stare at each other before both rolling your eyes, “well now we know who spills secrets the easiest” your friend chuckled, shaking her head 

after a few moments of silence you both spoke up, deciding there wasn’t that much harm in playing along with the two members of the batch. you were fond of them, after all

you both continued chuckling about the situation, mostly out of disbelief that the flirting and teasing wasn’t just a hopeful facade your minds made up

once the repairs were completed, you both retired to opposite ends of the ship, minds full of deliberation of how you would handle this new information 

section 3: the gunport 

you were sat in the gunport, musing the situation you found yourself in, hands picking at your fingernails in an effort to curb your nerves 

on one hand you didn’t want to ruin the bond you had with the marksman

what if he was just flirting out of pure boredom? there isn’t much to do in a confined ship like this anyways, he might as well pass the time flirting with a woman in his general vicinity 

but it just had to mean something

no way the whispered compliments - most of them accompanied with a wink, no less - meant absolutely nothing to him 

you decided that you had enough, this was going to eat you alive if you didn't get to the bottom of what was going on in that head of his

with a huff, you stood straight and turned around to exit the space

but you were met with a silver haired man climbing up the ladder

you both froze, both internally freaking out at the basically forced confrontation

oh gods what is he doing up here? did he read my mind??

...shit what do i do i forgot everything i was going to say to her 

you nervously chuckled, figuring that you were going to go talk to him anyways so might as well get this over with

“crosshair... um i need to ask you something”

“no, i need to tell you something cyar’ika. i’m tired of sitting here and watching you walk around all day, not being able to show you how i feel.”

now that left you speechless, mouth slightly hanging open in shock to which he deeply chuckled at, “hope this isn't the first time i leave you speechless.” 

there it was, that smug attitude that made you roll your eyes but also ignited a heat in your lower abdomen

with a smirk, you decided to play it back to him. two can play at this game, lanky

“well it’d be pretty rude to not demonstrate what you had in mind, trooper”

this was the green light crosshair needed, quickly heaving himself up the last few rungs of the ladder, his hands immediately finding your waist and snatching you close, pressing a firm kiss to your lips

your hands flung up to catch the sides of his sharp cheeks, humming at the feel of his scruff under your palms as you coyly push your tongue through his lips, hoping he’ll welcome your tongue into his mouth

he does, and you are exploring each other in the most delicious way, causing soft moans and sighs to leave both of you

while you were entranced by crosshair’s mouth on yours, you didn't realize he was pushing you back onto the chair of the gunport until you were sat down and he was kneeling in between your legs, his nimble fingers clutching your thighs and hips

in a matter of minutes crosshair had managed to get your bottoms completely off, your slick panties hooked on one ankle, and your thighs over his shoulders

for a man who could run his mouth, he sure proved it 

expert fingers entered your weeping cunt while his tongue prodded your bundle of nerves with sharp, quick strokes

he’s beaming at the way you’re trying to support yourself on shaky arms and trapping his head to your cunt with the backs of your calves, the sight of your head thrown back and the whimpers coming out of your mouth making him harder than he had been in a looong time

his fingers and mouth brought to your orgasm quick and hard, nearly screaming his name as your toes curled in bliss 

he took his time in working you through it, making sure he could draw it out. he could get used to this.

when you can finally open your eyes and look him in the eye, you’re kissing him again, enjoying the moan he lets out at the feel of your tongue tasting yourself on him 

you decide it’s his turn, and you’re pushing him into your previous spot, smiling at the way his eyes slightly widen at the way you took charge 

crosshair wants to say some sexy remark, something that he knows will get you to sheepishly smile and look away but he can’t, not with the sight of you sinking down to your knees and slowly pulling down his blacks, keeping eye contact and granting him a playful glint in your eye

you can't help but want to tease him just a bit, running your tongue over the bulge in his blacks

he tries his hardest to not be loud but maker, is he loud when you finally take him into your mouth and down your throat 

you’ve quickly found that he enjoys eye contact while in this vulnerable state, nearly shaking when he sees your eyes brimming with tears trying not to choke on his length 

one hand sneaking down to alternate cupping his balls is what pulls him over the edge, crying out with your name living on his tongue 

you swallow his release, again utilizing eye contact to your benefit and drawing out another prolonged moan from him 

it makes you smile in pride, loving how this hard, unyielding man turned into such a mess while you had your way with him 

crosshair pats his lap and expectantly looks at you, waiting for you to perch up onto his lap, straddling him 

despite being a skinnier guy, crosshair wraps you up in the warmest, most secure-feeling snuggle you have honestly ever experienced 

after sharing such an intimate moment with you, he began whispering sweet nothings into your ear, about how gorgeous he thinks you are, how much he cares for you 

it’s honestly kind of shocking but welcome nonetheless, cross can be kind when he wants to and you are very glad that this was the outcome of your dancing around each other for months 

section 4: the interruption 

you retreated back to your room, honestly just wanting to sleep and get your mind off the day

it was becoming harder and harder to not just pounce on wrecker, but you didn't want to just give it up so quickly 

and to be honest, you had a bad feeling that tech was full of it

you struggled with self esteem issues for as long as you could remember, so it was difficult to believe the 'genious’ of the batch when he said that wrecker had feelings for you 

despite your trepidations, your mind couldn't stop thinking about him, his broad shoulders, toned arms, huge thighs...

your hand slithered down your torso, slipping underneath the waist band of your bottoms and slowly circling your clit as images of wrecker effortlessly lifting anything that crossed his path filled your mind, honestly wishing it was you he was lifting

perhaps lifting you to brush your pussy on his nose, his tongue exploring your womanhood enough to make you shout his name

but apparently that last part was not all in your head

although you didn't shout it, wrecker definitely heard the way you whispered out his name in a moan in the dark room

he really hadn’t meant to barge in, but after a few knocks with no answer  he began to worry

he came by to tell you how he felt with absolutely no expectation of sleeping with you. truthfully, he gave up on trying to get into your pants, he was willing to lose the bet with crosshair, he knew he wasn’t as smooth as his brother anyways 

while he obviously would never be opposed to making love with you, he figured that you deserved to be courted beforehand, and he thought there was no way you’d want to share your body in such an intimate way with somebody like him 

but the sight he was greeted with was enough to prove himself wrong

you, spread out on your bed with your hand moving diligently under your thin lounge shorts and you moaning his name made him subconsciously let out a loud gasp 

that you absolutely heard, eyes snapping open and hand coming to an abrupt halt, ripping out from under your bottoms

“wr-wrecker! what are you doing here?!”

“i- uhhh- i didn’t see anything! erm, i'm sorry, mesh’la”

by now you had your blankets covering you, despite being fully clothed, and were looking at him with mortified eyes

wrecker still stood in the doorway, unsure if he should let this opportunity pass him by

if you had told him to leave he would, he’d do anything you said, but the fact that you made no move to force him into leaving made him linger

“i'm...sorry if im overstepping mesh’la but i just- i can't stop thinking about you. and well,” he gestured to your form, still cradling the blankets to your heaving chest, “i think you think about me too”

of course you couldn't deny it, he had just seen you pleasuring yourself and moaning his name, what the hell kind of excuse could you come up with? none, that's what 

his sheepishness made your heart soar, realizing he probably was just as nervous as you

deciding to cut him some slack, you slowly rose up, blanket falling to the ground as you sauntered over to his frozen frame

whispering, “you're right. do- do you want to stay?” 

you had the poor man at a loss for words, eagerly nodding at your proposition and allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your bed, pushing him down so you could straddle his lap

his large cock bulging through the thin fabric of his blacks and pushing against your already hot cunt made you cry out

pure adrenaline coursed through both of you, hushed moans leaving your mouths as you steadily ground down onto him, his hand tangled in your hair and the other kneading your breast

your lips broke away from his mouth and you smirked at the look on his face, absolutely fucking giddy that this was finally happening, he had been dreaming about this moment since he first saw you

the sounds he made while you sucked on the sensitive skin of his neck encouraged you to slip a small hand down the front of his blacks and pull his thick cock out, heat flooding your body at the hiss he let out when you started slowly jacking him off 

your legs were in the perfect position for him to push your shorts down and over your ass, fingers picking up where you left off and circling your clit, working you open to take one of his massive fingers

the more you squeezed his throbbing shaft, the louder wrecker became 

and not wanting anybody to hear you two fooling around, you glued your mouth to his, tongues mingling in heat

the excitement of the entire situation made it not last very long overall, but you both had intense orgasms regardless

wrecker curled his - now two - fingers inside you just right, and your continued squeezes and strokes of his cock made him finish, his cum coating your palm 

both of you were shaking, muffled groans and gasps filled the room until you were coming down from your simultaneous orgasms

after coming back down to the moment, wrecker chuckled and flopped down on his back, bringing you with him to crash onto his chest

you both giggled like a couple of smitten teenagers who were experiencing their first love, relishing in the butterflies in your stomachs, we just did that

“been waiting a long time to do that, doll” wrecker’s big hands rubbed up and down your curves, closing his eyes and smiling at your laugh, “i know”

his head shot up at that, “you know?” the way his eyebrows furrowed up made your chest tighten with admiration, smiling cheekily down at him, “of course i do. tech told us gals.” you leaned down to place a peck on his chin, “you think you won the bet?”

“dunno. but I feel like i just won the entire galaxy.” 

it honestly didn't make much sense in your post-orgasm daze, but the endearing tone made you smile and kiss him once again

section 5: the hallway 

after your respective encounters with your boys, you ran to your friend, bumping into her in the hallway, the tight space echoing your giggles and shrieks of excitement throughout the entire ship

you both were so flustered and giddy that you were talking over each other, just needing to tell her about what just happened 

“i just sucked-”

“you will not believe-” 

you both stopped and laughed even harder, holding onto each other for support, then your friend took a deep breath and smiled, “you first.”

the sounds emitted from you two not only made your boys smile and their chests swell with pride but also coerced some chuckles from the other members of the batch 

they all knew how long these...events were in the making and how eager cross and wrecker were becoming 

and in all honesty they were glad their brothers had found happiness in two girls like yourselves 

nice, funny, and obviously in love with their brothers

they really could’t have asked for better women to take care of their family 

~

taglist! (fill out this if you’d like to be added): 

@djarrex, @pastelpanda19, @rebelpitstop, @sageislostinspring, @shiny-mando

[gumnut-logic]

Chuckles (Part Two)

Part 1 - 2035 | Part Two - 2036

This is the next chapter of my @tagsecretsanta​ fic for @angelofbenignmalevolence​ There is more to come....lots more (though most of it isn’t written yet). Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @tsarinatorment​ for the reading and support ::hugs::

Warnings: None other than wee!Tracys :D

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

2036

Christmas in the Tracy household was a big family affair. The house itself was a big one. Big enough to house extended family and the bustle and noise that involved.

Scott loved it. Loved everyone being together, the hugs, the jokes, the fact that Uncle Lee always called him ‘Little Jeff’ and told the best stories about planes and rockets. Aunt Val always brought the best Christmas cookies with various aircraft drawn on them with icing. Grandma Taylor had different coloured hair every year and this year was bright blue and included glitter. Grandpa Taylor invented toys for a living so he was always welcome. Though Virgil tended to hoard his attention and Scott wasn’t really sure why because Virgil pulled apart everything Grandpa Taylor gave him anyway.

But the best part of Christmas this year was that Daddy was home.

Daddy spent a lot of time away. Scott understood why, but that didn’t stop him from missing him. Dad had stories much like Uncle Lee and often they starred in each other’s tales, but there was something about his father that Scott just looked up to even more.

It didn’t hurt that Uncle Lee made a point of placing Scott’s father in the spotlight in all his stories.

Dad was an amazing person. A hero.

Dad was also very tall and strong and always had the answers Scott needed. While Mom looked after him and his two little brothers and he loved her very much, Dad was…Dad.

And Scott wanted more than anything to grow up and be just like him.

It certainly didn’t hurt that his father had the same colour hair and everyone said Scott looked a lot like him. Scott bore those comments proudly and made a point of doing his best to emulate what his father might do in any situation.

Scott was going to grow up, join the Air Force and do his father proud.

A clatter in the hallway and Virgil barrelled into the room. Uncle Lee, who had been retelling the Mars landing, stopped mid-word and frowned.

His biggest little brother’s eyes widened as he skidded to a halt and straightened himself up. “Uh, excuse me, Uncle Lee.” A blink, and he looked fit to burst. “Could I please speak to Scott?”

“Sure….squirt.”

That caused Virgil to frown. Scott thought it was funny. Uncle Lee never seemed to be able to remember Virgil’s name.

And besides, Virgil had a thing about being smaller than Scott and didn’t like it being pointed out.

However, Virgil hurried over anyway. “Scotty, can I borrow Chuckles?”

Blink “His name’s not ‘Chuckles’, it’s Chuck.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil bit his lip. “But can I anyway?”

“Why?”

“Johnny won’t leave me alone.”

“He’ll eat his goggles.”

“Better than him eating my nuts.”

Uncle Lee made an odd sound that dissolved into a cough when Scott and Virgil looked at him.

Scott sighed. “Virgil, it’s Christmas. We’re supposed to share.”

Virgil dragged Scott part way across the room, away from Uncle Lee and lowered his voice.

“I tried, but the kit contains small bits. Mom said Johnny wasn’t allowed to play with small things. She said he was too young.” It was almost hissed under Virgil’s breath. “I don’t want him to get hurt or to get into trouble. Chuckles always distracts him.”

His name wasn’t ‘Chuckles’, it was ‘Chuck’ after Chuck Yeager, the first pilot to break the sound barrier. But Virgil had called the bear ‘Chuckles’ once as a joke, Johnny had picked it up and now it was all about Chuckles. It was annoying.

“Well, give him the nuts and tell him to go eat them somewhere else.”

Virgil stared at him aghast, but then his eyes widened. “Nuts. As in ‘nuts and bolts’, Scott! I’m building the robot Grandpa Taylor brought me. Johnny keeps trying to eat bits of metal.”

Oh.

Uncle Taylor had picked up his tablet, but was now staring at them, a question on his face. “You boys okay?”

Scott nodded. “Yes, Uncle Lee. Virgil just needs some help with his kit. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Blue eyes gauged him, but Scott was more worried about his littlest brother and dragged Virgil out the door.

“Where is Johnny?”

“On the floor outside my room.”

“You didn’t leave the door open, did you?”

“No.”

Scott hurried down the hall. “Why didn’t you call Mom?”

“I tried. Mom is talking to Aunt Val and she sounded sad. I didn’t want to interrupt and I didn’t want Johnny to get into trouble. Chuckles will fix it.”

“His name is not Chuckles!”

Scott rounded the corner and to his horror, Virgil’s door was wide open.

He didn’t bother to acknowledge Virgil’s gasp of horror, but instead barrelled on through the door terrified he would find his little brother choking on the floor.

But Virgil’s desk was empty except for the scattered pieces of his project. A quick glance around the room and Scott quickly found Johnny.

He was no more than a tuft of red hair wrapped around Scott’s pilot bear, half buried in Virgil’s bed covers.

Two wide eyes popped up over the top of those goggles. “Scotty!”

Scott hurried over to the bed. “Johnny, are you okay?”

“Chuckles!” Johnny held up the bear and grinned.

Scott sighed and sat down on the bed next to his littlest brother. His heart was beating fast - he had been so scared.

Virgil stood in the centre of his room staring at Johnny, his lip trembling. It was obvious he realised what could have happened when he left to get help.

Tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Scotty. I thought he couldn’t get in. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“Virg, he’s okay.” The fright in Virgil’s eyes had the eldest hurrying off the bed from one brother to another. “C’mon, Johnny’s fine. He went and got Chuckles, didn’t you, Johnny?”

The three-year-old’s eyes peered up at Virgil registering his distress and soaking it in like a sponge. His grin vanished and his brow crumpled. “Virgil?” Johnny clambered out of the bed and scampered over to his next eldest brother. “Chuckles? Chuckles make it better?” He offered Virgil the bear.

Virgil stared at Chuckles for a moment before reaching out and taking the fluffy toy. He poked at it gently before hugging it to his chest.

John threw himself at his brother with a huge hug almost knocking Virgil over. Scott reached out and steadied him before adding his own arm to the mix and hugging both his brothers at once. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Scott had to scrub snot off Chuckles’ ear later that night.

-o-o-o-

Christmas Eve was family relaxing time before the busy of the next day. Mom, who had been in the kitchen with Onaha since just after breakfast, called a halt to everything at six in the evening and they sat down for a light buffet of a meal. Every family member donated time or a dish which was mostly warm finger foods like pie and things on sticks.

Scott always looked forward to dessert on Christmas Eve because there were all sorts of interesting things to be had. Aunt Val’s Christmas cookies was one of them.

He stood staring at the different planes so artistically drawn on each of them. They were good enough to be recognisable and none of that generic kiddy stuff kids’ books tried to throw at him. Some were historical, some more modern.

“Trying to decide which plane to eat this year, honey?” Grandma Tracy crept up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. Her long blonde hair flopped over his shoulder as she leant in to kiss him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Scotty.”

“Merry Christmas, Grandma.” But he was still frowning at the cookies. “I can’t see Dad’s plane.”

“Your dad has flown several of those.”

“Yeah, but I want the Sparrowhawk Anderson ZX3.”

Grandma snorted. “Then you’ll have to chase up your father. I saw him nab it earlier.”

Scott turned to his grandmother. “Really?”

“Really.” And it was his father’s deep, smiling voice as Scott was suddenly scooped up in strong laughing arms. “C’mon, ‘Little Jeff’, I’ve saved you your favourite cookie.”

Scott giggled and squirmed, but ultimately clung to his dad, resting his head on his shoulder for just a moment as he was carried across the room to his father’s chair and plomped down on his lap as the man sat down. The longed-for cookie was produced and Scott grabbed it. “Thanks, Dad.”

A big hand on his back, another on his knee, Scott was held close.

“So, what have you and your brothers been up to this week?”

Scott stared at the cookie with the grey, blue and red jet iced on top. “Virgil, did a good drawing of a plane. He didn’t get the tail quite right, but I helped him with that. Johnny learnt some new words.” He couldn’t hold back any longer and bit into the cookie.

It was the best.

Dad snorted. “I heard. I suspected it was you who taught Johnny to say ‘extra-orbital’.”

Scott grinned, his mouth full of biscuit crumbs.

“Swallow before you talk, son.” But his father was smirking.

Scott downed the remains of the cookie, caught between enjoying it and the opportunity to sit and talk with his dad. “He knows all the planets, too.”

“Really?” His father frowned. “He’s only three years old, Scotty.”

Scott sat a bit straighter. I taught him all the names and showed him Mars where you and Uncle Lee went.”

The smile that appeared on his dad’s face only encouraged him. “Virgil drew him pictures of each of them and we stuck them on the wall in his room.”

“That was very kind of the two of you.”

“It made Johnny happy.” Scott didn’t want to mention that Johnny was sometimes sad and always serious. “I want to help him.”

“It sounds like you are doing an excellent job.”

“I’m the eldest.” And Scott knew what Dad was going to say.

“Yes, you are, and that means you have to look after your little brothers. They look up to you and they are your responsibility.”

Scott stared up at those serious grey eyes and for just a second Dad looked like Johnny. “Yes, Dad. I will, I promise.”

His father’s big hand patted his back. “I know you will.”

Scott smiled.

-o-o-o-

End Part Two

[not-so-honorable-honor]

Baby Silvally & Family

Just a little lore drop for Silv about their family and stuff :]

Silv giggled happily as they were gently bounced and cooed at. They were still small for a three year old, and they didn’t have much of a good memory to say the least. I mean, they were three to be fair. All they really remember was other bird people, family, they think, and lots of lava. 

And their dad freaking out when they struggled out of his arms. At the time they didn’t know why this was such a big problem and were just happy to be warm. They wanted to be near the warmth, why was this such a problem? Their little head couldn’t understand. 

So when he got them back in his arms and told them to stay put, they pouted but did so. They were starting to fall asleep, hearing the soft comforting jingle of their fathers armor. But they were awoken when they heard more voices, huh? What was that?  A female took them first, and Silvally didn’t know what or who she was, they just remember ginger hair, a higher voice and something soft and shiny that was apparently made for them. 

They were distracted by the shiny thing, trying to grab it and play with it, while the person in front of them gently moved it away. She started to giggle, causing the child to giggle as well. They also heard one very unfamiliar voice speaking along with a familiar one as well. Dad! 

They tried to go to him, but the girl stopped them, and picked them up again, saying things to them and smiling at them. They didn’t really know what it ment at the time, but she was smiling so it must be good. This caused them once again to giggle and smile as well. 

Silvally couldn’t really make out what their dad was saying, even now the memory is fuzzy. They just remember something about height, something about beef, and a lot of annoyed sounds from the person who wasn't their dad. 

“They’re quite large for their age aren’t they?” Mikell said, shaking his head. The much shorter person in front of him sighed.

“Yeah, they are. But so are you. You’re huge and their so-called other father was tall as well.” You could hear the venom in the small mans voice. 

Mikell sighed at this, “One day they’ll be larger than you know? They’ll be taller than you.” The man huffed. 

“No shit sherlock, anyone could’ve told you that one. But I still have a few years until they have to bend down to talk to me.” He huffed once more, getting a laugh out of Mikell. 

But they were once again distracted by a small plush, which they went back to trying to grab. They were completely focused on the thing, trying to grab it. It was a rabbit plush, and it was small, but for some reason they wanted to claw it up, and tear it up. They didn’t know why. 

Eventually, their dad and the new person came back into the room, and they were picked up by their dad. And then introduced to said new person as well. And the person that had been playing with them up until this point. Auntie and Uncle. Huh… Family! They were family! They smiled, clapping their little talons together. 

This got a head shake from their dad, and smiles from the other two in the room. Lots of what they were saying still just didn’t make sense to them. It didn’t help that they were drifting off, it was warm, and they felt safe. 

But before they were out of it completely they looked out the window, over their dads shoulder. There was a man standing there in a suit, with sunglasses and a big scary looking animal. It might be a dog. He turns his head slightly to them and he smiles. They smile back, watching as he leaves. Just as soon as he arrived he was gone… Weird. 

They didn’t pay much mind to it, they were half asleep and probably just seeing things. So they buried their head back into their fathers shoulder and closed their eyes again. They were out like a light. 

Mikell looked down at his child and sighed contently. They were just like him. The woman shook her head, smiling. The shorter man leaned on the wall, looking at his talons. 

“Looks like someone tired themselves out. It's only been an hour, they’re like you Mikey.” She sighed, snickering softly. Mikell huffed at this. 

“I mean, they’re my kid. What do you expect? Them to be awake twenty-four seven like mister smartass over here?” She laughed at that, the other man rolled his eyes.

“Just because I read a book every now and then doesn’t mean I can do rocket science, Mikell.” Mikell scoffed. 

“I do read, shut yer pie hole.” He huffed. 

“Oh yeah, you read kiddie books for your three year old you mean?” The man snickered, causing Mikell to growl slightly. 

“Of fuckin’ course I read to my three year old. They’re three. Why wouldn't I read to ‘em? I want them to be smart, and enjoy readin’.” He sighed, looking down to the small bird in his arms. 

“Both of you! Quit it, you’re going to wake them if you keep this up, and no one wants a cranky hatchling.” She shook her head at her brothers, neither of them have changed a bit in all the years. 

Silvally shifted in Mikells arms, causing everyone to quiet down for a moment. But they went back to sleep just as peacefully as could be. Mikell let out a sigh of relief. 

“Out cold huh? Reminds me of you honestly. Deep sleeper too?” The small man asked. Mikell chuckled at that. Nodding his head and gently petting their hair. 

“So far they sleep like me. Out of it, nothing interrupts it really.” Mikell said, shaking his head. 

“Diners almost ready,” a new voice calls. It was softer than the other two, but still just as firm. The three nodded and the person ducked back into the kitchen to finish dinner. 

“Should I wake them?” Mikell asked, sighing gently. 

“Wait until plates are on the table,” the woman responded, pausing. “Now you two don’t fight, I’ll only be gone a second to grab something so the youngest can sit properly.” And with that she left the room, leaving only Mikell and the other man. 

The man sighed before shaking his head, looking at Mikell. “You better not lose them. Do you understand me? We already lost a nephew, and we don't need them going missing or worse, fuck face.” Mikell froze, processing the words before letting out a low growl. Oh he was about to beat the shit out of the man in front of him. 

“You keep yer goddamn mouth shut! What happened to my fuckin’ son is a tragedy, and I dont plan on it happenin’ again? Ya fuckin’ hear me?” Mikell snapped, raising his voice causing the child in his arms to squirm and whimper. The man in front of him was about to reply when the woman came back in, with a small chair for Silvally. Mikell handed them over to her, and she gently woke them up.

They yawned, reaching up and rubbing their eyes. Wuh… Why awake? It's nap time damn it! She gently patted their head as Mikell took a seat next to them. The other two sat down, the man across from Mikell and the woman next to him. 

The littlest sibling came in with plates for everyone, and an even smaller plate for Silvally, who now realized it was dinner time and was now excited. Dinner went smoothly for the most part, no yelling, no fighting. Just eating. 

And once that was done, the two youngest got up, taking the plates and going to clean them up. Mikell helped Silv down, giving them the plush so they could play by themselves. Mikell and the remaining person got to talking again, surprisingly with no fighting this time. 

They paused to look out the window again, was the person there again? And he in fact was. He was sitting there, that scary thing next to him, and he was writing. Or reading. They didn’t know, but he had a book in one hand and his hand on the three headed thing next to him. They whimpered and looked away, hugging the plush close. Scary. 

Once they calmed down and went back to playing with the plush, they got lost in their own little world. Happy as could be. Unaware of the arguing behind them. If you asked them about it now they would say it was something about stupid family drama. Oh if only they knew. 

But the time rolled around where it was time for Mikell and Silvally to go home, so he scooped them up, let everyone say goodbye, give hugs and final goodbyes, before starting to walk or rather fly home. They held on tightly to their dad, who was holding onto them as well. 

They got back to the shiny purple thing again, and their dad chuckled, kissing their forehead before stepping through, still holding them. And when they got back through the thing, Silvally was a little nauseous, but Mikell took them back to their little room and sat them down on their bed, tucking them in and reading a story to them until they fell asleep. 

Once they were out, he gently shut the book and placed it back onto their bookshelf, and kissed their forehead one last time, before turning off the lights completely. He stood in the doorframe, quietly whispering something to his youngest child, before leaving and shutting the old dark oak door behind him as he left. 

“Goodnight kiddo, sweet dreams.”

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Four): Through The Gates

Notes: We’re inching closer and closer to the Seed’s arrival, I know it’s a slow burn to the game events, but I’m enjoying building up to it and hope it will make the impact of it all just that much more meaningful. 

Word Count:  9098

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, Belligerent Drunk Man, Drug Overdose, Pratt and Dahlia being dumbasses

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

A tall bearded man is on her porch; leaning against the railing. The familiar snake tattoos that curl down his forearms give him away; Lonny. The Eden’s Gate member who showed at the station to give her and Whitehorse a hard time. What is he doing at her trailer? There’s no reason for him to be here.

“Can I help you?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she steps up onto the porch.

“Just figured I’d stop by, make a friendly visit to the new deputy,” he expression is somewhere between a smile and a predator baring its teeth.

“And, how exactly did you figure out where I live?”

“Small place, loose lips, word spreads fast.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, now, if we’re done with this ‘friendly’ visit-”

“Word spreads especially fast within our congregation, when someone starts arresting our members.”

“Maybe, your congregation members shouldn’t commit crimes?”

“The law of man matters little compared to the law of god.”

“Well, I get paid to enforce the law of man, so unless god starts signing my paychecks, I’ll be sticking to that.”

“Greed isn’t a pretty sin.”

Goosebumps prickle and creep up her skin at the word sin, making her throat tight, as the word settles over her. Memories of her stepfather claw at the back of her mind, phantom pain of beatings past making her body ache, the guilt and shame of being a sinner pitting in her stomach. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands and grits her teeth.

“Yes, so greedy, as you can tell, I mean just look around, ” she gestures around the dilapidated trailer park, “the used needles a foot away from the kiddy slide cost me extra, but I think they really bring the place together.”

“Charming.”

“I do try.”

“Look, I’ll make this stupidly simple, for you,” Lonny creeps closer, nearly standing on her, glowering down at her, “don’t step on our toes and we won’t step on yours.”

“Is that so?” She grins and literally steps on Lonny’s toes, crushing her boot down as hard as she can, until he finally grunts in pain and takes a step back.

“Don’t make a problem out of yourself, deputy….” His dark eyes flicker around, until finally landing on the shed behind her trailer, “that where you keep your bike?”

“Maybe, maybe not, whats it to you?”

“You know, a little generosity goes a long way to mending relationships, deputy. That motorcycle of yours would be a nice little gift to the flock and most importantly, me.”

“Get bent.”

“It’s important that we all do our part, deputy. That everyone gives a little, so that we all can flourish. As we inch closer and closer to the brink; that becomes even more important. What’s yours is mine, so,  which is more important, keeping your motorcycle or helping others?”  

He’s in her space again, hand reaching out and squeezing her shoulder in a pseudo-friendly gesture; that not even almost friendly smile on his face again.

“I’d sooner watch the world rot than give up that bike. Now, get the fuck off my property.”

She shoves his hand off her shoulder and marches into her trailer; slamming the door shut behind her. Dahlia could scream, could tear apart her entire trailer in rage. Where the hell does that guy get off? Demanding her bike; the motorcycle she slaved over. Her and Lloyd rebuilt that thing from nearly scratch after his son wrecked it; left it abandoned in their shed, a muddle heap of metal left to gather dust. She helped rebuild it; just a project at the time, something to keep busy while she was waiting to see if she got accepted to the police academy, meant to stave off the anxiety. And when it was done, perfectly functional and shining like it was brand new, Lloyd told her to keep it, she deserved it.

There’s not a lot of things Dahlia’s felt she earned; feeling every success has been a fluke, a mistake, a moment of luck. But, she earned that bike. She nearly fought Lloyd’s son when he visited that holiday season; trying to reclaim the bike now that it was fixed and she refused. Lloyd sided with her; because she earned it. Because she put the work and hours into it. And she’ll be damned if she’s going to let some bearded zealot barge in and demand she give it up.

The more she learns about Eden’s Gate, the less she likes them. Stealing booze, trying to take her bike, trying to scare her. She needs a cigarette; she decides and pulls the pack from her pocket; only to find it empty. Damn it. Dahlia starts digging through tossed aside pairs of pants and jackets; she has to have a half empty pack somewhere. She grabs up her duffle bag, still mostly unpacked other than what she’s worn or used this week, rummaging through the pockets for a pack of cigarettes.

A crumpled piece of something brushes against her hand and she yanks it out; only to find a scrunched up white pamphlet. She straightens it out a bit and groans when she reads the front; Eden’s Gate, We Love You surrounding a cross like symbol. Why is this group all over everything?

Giving up on finding a cigarette somewhere in her mess; Dahlia changes into some comfy clothes and plops herself down on the couch, turning the small tv on as background noise more than anything. She finds herself fiddling with that pamphlet again, placed aside before she changed.

Dahlia opens it; if this damn group is going to haunt all her days here, she might as well read their crap. It seems to be fairly standard religious fare. Casted out? Rejected by society? Try Jesus. Take a leap of faith, wash away your sins, confess, atone, and become stronger by joining their family. There are mentions of how corrupt the world is and how it’s all going to end; nice appeals to fear mongering, always have to appreciate that approach. Every word of the dribble reminds her of darker days, of her step father and his asinine sermons. The type of people who’d probably make a PSA about how Dungeons and Dragons is satanic, Harry Potter should be burned at the stake, and Pokemon is an evil atheist agenda to push evolutionary theory on kids.

The leader; man bun guy, calls himself The Father. Those goosebumps and bad memories come back. She knows assuming that all strongly religious people are like her step-father isn’t the best practice. But mentions of sin and calling himself something regarding father, just… doesn’t help.

He calls his siblings heralds; a sister and two brothers.

Her eyes glaze over as she absorbs the same crap she's had spewed at her for years, thoughts of making a donation to planned parenthood in their name pass through her mind. She doesn’t know for certain if the group is pro-life, but one can assume. The picture on the second page of the little pamphlet catches her eye and she sputters out a laugh.

Who the hell runs the PR for this church?

First the creepy statue, then the serial killer-esque drawing on him to open their book, and now a family portrait so awkward she might cringe herself into a coma. Three men and a woman; siblings according to the text. Man bun is in a chair in the middle; not even making eye contact with the camera. The woman, Faith, the siren she’s seen at the hotel and accidentally grabbed outside the diner is on the floor beside the chair. She looks annoyed, like a teenager being dragged to an awkward family dinner. Behind them are the two brothers. One with slicked back dark hair in a coat that appears to be covered in planes; which is… a look. And the other a mountain of a human compared to his sibling; ginger hair with the sides shaved, in camouflage, holding a red rifle.

It all looks ridiculous, from their expressions to their poses. Whoever thought this was a good way to market them is the epitome of human stupidity. Dahlia crumples the little pamphlet and tosses it into the trash; thankful for a laugh to cap off her night. She spends an hour or so watching tv, drifting off to sleep on the couch as she’s done every night.. Eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each second, until black blankets her mind. 

Her bladder wakes her up during the middle of the night, causing her to turn and flop around, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stares at the ceiling contemplating if she has to pee bad enough to warrant making herself physically stand up; the effort feeling herculean in the bleary twilight hours of the night.

“What if I told you, you could be free of sin,” a male voice drifts from the tv and she groans; this shit again?

She sits up on the couch, sliding down onto the floor with the clumsiness of her sleep leaden body. On her tv, at four am, amid commercials for sexy single phone lines is an infomercial for Eden’s Gate.

One of the brothers; the one with slicked back hair in the plane coat, John Seed as the text on screen tells her. He dramatically talks about how all you have to do is say Yes, the power of Yes, walking around what looks like a red carpet covered in flowers; terraces laced with them around him, a crowd gathered around as he talks.

Is he the reason for the Hollywood style YES sign in the valley?

The crowd around him starts to chant the word yes; he’s saying ‘yes, I will be saved’, ‘yes, I will confess’, ‘yes, I will atone.’ And he gestures upwards; revealing a lit up sign of the word YES and she bursts out laughing; her stomach aching and her bladder upset with her for it. Once her laughter subsides, she does what any good decent young adult would do. She rewinds  it to the start of the infomercial, grabs her phone from the table, and records the cringefest to post online before finally going to the bathroom.

She goes back to sleep after,  still cracking up about this dumb religion and their dumb advertisement.

Dahlia wakes up around noon or so the next day, checking her phone while still curled up in the couch.  The post of the religious cringe has gotten some traction; someone making a reaction gif out of the guy gesturing to the yes sign. Jokes about how the guy must get off on the word yes, how insane it must have felt to be working on this, ‘imagine having a grown man in a plane coat telling you to chant yes while he dramatically touches his own tit’. The internet truly is a beautiful place sometimes.

She stretches out her muscles and decides to call the clinic, the one she gave  info about to Tweak. Dahlia wants to make sure he actually reached out and didn’t just use her good graces to avoid trouble and call it done.

“Hey, I’m Deputy Hale of the Hope County Sheriff’s department, I referred someone to contact your clinic about rehabilitation. I was calling to see if they contacted you.”

“Of course, could I have their name?”

“Aaron Kirby.”

“Yes, we did receive a call from Aaron Kirby, he’s been placed on our waitlist as our drug counseling services are currently at capacity and we can’t take on any more clients.”

“Understood, thank you.”  

She sighs; she can’t fault him for that. Hopefully, they’ll be able to get him in soon. Dahlia stretches, making her back pop, now what to do with the rest of her day. Maybe it’s Lonny trying to take her bike or maybe it’s the mention of those Clutch Nixon stunts yesterday; but she has an itch to go riding and do some stupid shit.

A quick shower and change of clothes; then she’s grabbing her helmet.

Music reverberating in her skull, the rev of her motorcycle engine beneath her, the wind whipping around her, and she’s healed from everything if only for a moment. Dancing and riding her bike are the only things to do this for her; or maybe it’s the music itself that does. But when her blood is pumping, her ears are ringing, and her throat is raw from screaming along to the songs; nothing else matters.

She’s not lonely as she takes a sharp turn right at the chorus.

She’s not sad or pathetic as she cruises down the road, passing cars.

She’s not a disgusting sinner as she takes one of the paths that goes through the woods.

She’s not rejected, worthless, and tossed aside as she hits one of the many ramps across the county, catching air before hitting the ground again.

Everything is pure chaos and adrenaline in her veins; no room for guilt or doubt or

Deer. Big deer, in the road, it isn’t moving.

She hits the brakes; the sudden jerk of a stop, pushing her body forward, losing her grip and being ejected forward. Dahlia hits the ground in a heap, head rattling but thankfully not split on the road. She forces herself to roll over on her back, body aching in protest. Her eyes close and she takes deep breaths, trying to gather herself.

Something fuzzy pushes against her hand, glancing down to see the large deer sniffing at her. It’s no worse for wear, so that’s good at least. She forces herself to sit up, body protesting,  and she peels her helmet off. The deer shuffles back a little but when she extends a hand it tentatively presses against it. She scratches its nose.

“You’re very lucky you’re cute.” She digs around in her pockets, finding a pack of crackers, she always has food on her if she can help it and she offers the deer a cracker. It eats from her hand. Maybe she’s just trying to avoid moving her bruised body, but she spends a few moments finishing the little pack with the deer before finally forcing herself to stand.

Her motorcycle is in good shape, a little scuff on the side, but nothing she can’t buff out if needed. Dahlia’s baby remains the most stable part of her life. She rides it back to her trailer, a bit more carefully. She’s managed to burn through most of the day with her reckless bullshit.

She calls Lloyd and Caroline that night; telling them about her first week, skirting around details that might sadden them. Going to the F.A.N.G Center is reduced to just going there, nothing of being overwhelmed and leaving. No mentions of Pratt tricking her when she talks about Peaches, just an old lady with a cougar Dahlia got to carry. No mention of being left out everytime Pratt and Hudson go to the Spread Eagle. No mention of Lonny, the threats, the religious group that seems much more involved with the community than she originally thought. Everything is fine, perfect, ideal.

The pain of her little crash has mostly faded by the time she shows up to work the next day; uniform properly on when she comes into the station bullpen.

“What the hell happened to you?” Hudson calls out and Dahlia can’t help the heat crawling up her face at the attention. Her forearms and some of her upper chest that’s exposed are covered in bruises; mottling blues and purples.

“Oh, uh, I had a little bike crash yesterday.” She shrugs.

“Jesus christ,” Pratt grumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Rook, you need a hobby,” Dahlia starts to say something, but Hudson continues, “one that doesn’t injure you.”

She likes to dance, but dancing completely alone isn’t as much fun, not awful but not as fun. And there's not exactly dance clubs in Hope County. Hmmm. Unfortunate. She shrugs, if her hobby kills her, it kills her.

During patrol, Pratt and her don’t talk about the F.A.N.G Center, they don’t talk about him being angry at her. An awkward cloud hanging over them as they patrol. She doesn’t even bother to ask to give tickets when they pull people over; already knowing Pratt won’t let her and not wanting the conversation. An emergency call to what’s called Sergey’s place breaks up the monotony, suspected overdose.

She digs her nails into the leather of her seat as Pratt flips on the sirens; what if it’s Tweak? Doubts of if she did the right thing running through her head. She wanted to help him; but if he ended up just being put on a waitlist and overdosing right after, how much good did she do?

Sergey’s place is a wooded area filled with abandoned train cars where homeless people and drug addicts gather. Dahlia rushes to where she sees a group of them gathered around; screaming and crying coming from the center.

“Clear the way, so we can help,” Pratt tells them, the crowd dispersing, a woman is seizing. Her entire body jerking and drool pooling from her mouth; another woman holding her close, crying over her.

“Did she take anything?” Dahlia asks.

“We were shooting up and then she was on the ground, I, it’s all my fault, I-”

“Understood, we’re gonna do everything we can to save her.”

Dahlia holds the seizing woman as still as she can, getting out the syringe of narcan that's kept in patrol cars. She plunges it into the woman’s arm, forcing the medicine into her system, watching as her seizing slowly starts to lessen. Removing it, she notices the large bruise and cut on the woman’s forehead.

“Dispatch,” Pratt radios in, “we need an ambulance out to Sergey’s place, confirmed overdosed, head trauma, female early twenties. Junior Deputy Hale has administered a dose of Narcan, over.”

Dahlia stays with the woman, to make sure she doesn’t seize again and hurt herself further. Meanwhile, Pratt clears the way and helps get the ambulance into the area when it arrives; the woman being taken away on the stretcher. They find out the one who was holding her was her sister, allowing her to go with her to the emergency room, while Pratt asks some questions of those who were around. Nothing suspicious; just an overdose, no one to blame.  

The younger deputy sighs and a hand clamps down on her shoulder; gently squeezing. Pratt is next to her and she raises an eyebrow at him. 

“We got here quick, she should be fine.” 

“Maybe, lets get going.” 

The conversation is still more than a little stilted as the day goes on; but it isn’t quite the awkward silence of before. Pratt making little comments and saying things, while she nods or hmms along.

Later in the afternoon, when they’ve stopped back at the station, for lunch and paperwork regarding the overdose. She yawns and stretches her arms, standing up from her desk to get coffee. Maybe she needs caffeine or maybe she’s just tired of sitting in one place; but either way she’s up and moving. 

She rubs a hand down her face as she enters the kitchenette where the fridge and coffee machine are. Dahlia grabs her mug; one that was bought for her by Lloyd and Caroline. It’s a little embarrassing, the picture of a black cat with the message, ‘horrible and adorable.’  

Warmth presses in close to her back, looming over her. The smell of Pratt’s cologne hits her just as a large hand plucks her mug off the counter. Pratt holding the mug high above her head. 

“Hey!” She tries to grab it from him but can’t reach, Pratt grinning as she makes the effort to stand on her tiptoes but still can’t quite get it. 

“Something wrong?” he smirks, “you can’t reach your kitty cat mug?” 

“Can you go five seconds without being an ass?”  She turns to face him, glaring at his shit eating grin, the mischief in his eyes as he crowds her and holds the mug just out of reach. 

“Hmmmm, no. Can you go five seconds without pouting?” He reaches up with the hand not holding her mug hostage and cups under her jaw to squish her cheeks together and force her lips to pout out; laughing at her. 

She smacks away his hand, making a grab for her mug, knocking against his chest in the attempt before he jumps back. 

Dahlia whines and he just laughs, dodging her again as she tries to take her mug back. Her fingers can barely reach his face, let alone high above his head where he’s holding her mug hostage. She clambers to grab a hold of his bicep; trying to pull herself up high enough to grab it, laughing at the ridiculousness of trying to essentially climb her coworker to get her mug.

“Jesus christ, you fuckin’ spider monkey!” He nearly falls over, but catches himself and switches the mug to his other hand, placing it on top on the cupboards.

She glares for a beat, still hanging off of Pratt’s arm before letting go. Dahlia can’t even reach the top shelf in the cupboards.

“I’m actually going to strangle you.”

“Something wrong, Thumbelina?” He taunts and ruffles a hand through her hair, the gesture far more rough and teasing than when Whitehorse does it to comfort her.

“Yeah, my coworker is an ass.”

“Not my fault you’re short.”

“If I get dirt on the counter, you’re cleaning it.”

“What do you-” he bursts into laughter when she box jumps up onto the counter, grabbing her mug. The deep rumble of it makes her smile, it’s ridiculous, but he’s left her no choice.

“The hell are you doing, Rook?!” Whitehorses’ voice cuts through Pratt’s cackling and she jumps down with a yelp.

“Pratt did it.”

The older deputy straightens up, after nearly bending over doubled from his laughing fit. Whitehorse pinches the bridge of his nose, Dahlia swears she can see the migraine forming in his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Pratt defends himself,  “she managed that all on her own.”

“I, I just...no feet on the counter, that's where food goes, for fucks sake, ” Whitehorse looks from Dahlia to Pratt, “and no whatever you did.”

With that the sheriff leaves; weary of their bullshit. Dahlia jabs her fist into Pratt’s ribs, hard enough to jostle him but not enough to truly hurt.

“You got me in trouble!” She yells, sounding every bit a kid who just got ratted out to the teacher, and Pratt only snickers.

By the time Dahlia manages to get her coffee, her face hurts from smiling. The ache of happiness followed throughout the day, until Hudson and Pratt cap off the night with another day of chatting at the Spread Eagle, Dahlia left to go home alone. 

The next day a call comes in from Adelaide Drubman, Hurk Sr’s ex wife who owns the marina as Dahlia’s been told. She’s seen advertisements around for the older woman’s real estate business, telling people to call Addie. The woman pictured on the signs of those advertisements is a fair representation, albeit maybe a little more airbrushed, of the woman standing before them when they arrive. Older with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, a red bandana tied in her hair. She’s all sly smiles and winks when she sees the two deputies walking towards her.

“Well, hey there, hon’,” she greets them, the southern Montana accent one of the strongest Dahlia’s heard since she’s arrived here.

“Hey, Addie,” Pratt replies in kind and Dahlia gives an awkward wave, “what’s wrong?”

What’s right, Dahlia can’t help but wonder as she looks at the property, clearly abandoned and dilapidated.

“Well, I think some squatters might have moved in on me, sweetheart. And, apparently threatening them with my gun is illegal, but having y’all run ‘em off with yours is fine. Go figure.”

“Yeah, the law is pretty picky about that kind of thing,” Pratt says with a laugh.

“I mean, I’m not complaining , at least I get a  chance to see some young pieces of ass in uniform.”

Dahlia chokes and coughs; heat flooding up to the apples of her cheek. That was blunt. Really blunt. Pratt doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, maybe he’s just used to this. Despite her embarrassment, she’s smiling. Something about Adelaide is comforting, warm and friendly, the kind of person who doesn’t know a stranger. Dahlia remembers the gross curmudgeon of an old man that use to be her husband.

“Speaking of which,” Adelaide continues, looking at Dahlia, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, honey.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m new at the station.”

“Our probie junior deputy.”

“Adelaide Drubman, pleased to meet ya.”  

“Uh, this might be impolite,” she pauses, rethinking for a moment, but she needs answers, “but were you seriously married to Hurk Sr?”

“Un-fucking-fortunately.”

“Did you lose a bet?”

Adelaide starts laughing and Dahlia can’t help but smile, the sound absolutely heartwarming.

“I’m serious; lose a bet, piss off a witch and get cursed, broke a mirror and had seven years bad luck… It’s gotta be something, ‘cause that just don’t add up.”

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing,” the older woman tells her, “word of advice, don’t let anyone tell you you gotta stay with a man just ‘cause he knocks you up.”

“I’d rather die.”

“Good, keep that mentality, save you years of suffering.”

“Okay, enough chat, let’s go check out the place,” Pratt says, nudging Dahlia to get a move on. She sticks her tongue out at him as they walk into the rundown house.

There’s trash strewn around, thankfully no needles or sign of drug users here. Adelaide must have a lot of trust in whoever she has cleaning these places up for resell. They pass through rooms, looking for anyone who’s not meant to be there, knocking on doors and calling out. Most of the house is cleared through and the two of them head to the attic, a good place for any squatters to hide.

The stairs creak under her feet as she takes them two at a time, moving ahead of Pratt in minutes. She hears him grumble, he tells her to slow down, but she doesn’t.

It’s dimly lit, some abandoned furniture and old antique crap littering the area; blocking the window that might have let in even a glimmer of sunlight. She flicks on her flashlight. The light illuminates the dust that hangs heavy in the air, drifting across her vision. Something rustles, a box shuffling across the floor.

“What was that?” Pratt asks as he finally joins her in the attic.

“I don’t know, yet.”

Scratchy noises echo through the room and she walks towards where she saw the box move. She crouches down and shifts the boxes out of the way, finding nothing but a dusty floor beneath them. Then something presses against her leg, a soft sniffing noise. 

“Oh my god!” She gasps as she looks down at the cute opossum staring up at her; baby pink nose sniffing at her jeans. A white face, tawny gray almost black body, with big soft dark brown eyes, its wiry whiskers curling at odd angles. 

“Is something wrong?!” Pratt yells out and comes rushing over, feet stomping across the floor; the heavy thuds making the opossum hiss and creep backwards. 

“You scared it, jackass.” 

“I,” he looks down at the hissing opossum, “I thought something happened.” 

“Shhhhhh…”

Dahlia reaches out; tentatively brushing her fingers against its narrow snout, feeling the short slightly rough fur. The hissing stops and it sniffs at her hand, letting her scratch up its face to the top of its head. It relaxes into her touch and she scratches behind its ear. 

“You can’t pet every animal, you meet, Rook.” 

“Watch me,” she says before scooping the opossum up in her arms, holding it close to her chest. A tongue licks over her cheek, the marsupial content in Dahlia’s arms. 

Pratt shakes his head and leaves the attic; Dahlia following him down the stairs. Adelaide is waiting outside the home when the two deputies exit. 

“Good news, Addie-” 

“I acquired a baby.” 

“Jesus fuck,” Pratt rubs a hand down his face at her interruption, “there’s no squatters.” 

“’Preciate ya coming out to check and taking care of the opossum problem.” 

“I fail to see the problem.” Dahlia’s new friend is trying to climb up her head, licking her scalp. 

“You really gonna try to sale this mess?” Pratt asks, rolling his eyes and ignoring the younger deputy’s new pet. 

“It’s my best chance of making any profit anymore; those fuckin’ Seeds are buying up any place thats actually worth a damn thing.  Flipping run down places is the only way to even hope of making money anymore. You know those bastards even tried to by the Marina.” 

“They’re gonna own the entire county before we know it.” 

Deputy Pratt shrugs his shoulders and Dahlia chews her lip; unsure if she likes how casually they talk about the local religious nutjob owning the county. The older deputy doesn’t even seem bothered by the thought; the idea of them buying everything just thrown out as blasé as one would say the time of day. 

“I swear to god, I can’t figure out what I wanna do more; punch John Seed’s face or ride it.” 

Dahlia raises an eyebrow at the older woman; she’s unsure what that means…but it sounds vaguely inappropriate… Her nose scrunches, brows furrowing as she tries to reason through this. Riding…like sitting on someone’s face? So, oh… Heat flares up Dahlia’s cheeks as the meaning hits her; definitely inappropriate. Very inappropriate. She covers the opossum’s ears, as if to protect the innocent being from the filth, meanwhile her own ears are burning. 

“Addie…” 

“I know, I know,” Adelaide waves her hand dismissively, “but you know what they say, the pussy wants what it wants.” 

“Not sure that’s the saying.” Pratt laughs

Dahlia raises an eyebrow before looking down at the opossum in her arms as if the little critter could answer her unasked question. Instead, its doe eyes just stare up at her. What cats have to do with Adelaide wanting to fuck John Seed is beyond Dahlia’s comprehension.

“You alright over there, hun?” 

“Don’t worry about her,” Pratt dismisses Adelaide’s concern, “she’s probably just wondering what cats have to do with anything.” 

“Oh lord.”

“How did you know?” Dahlia whispers, wide-eyed at Pratt, only getting a throaty laugh in response. 

“How old are you again, sweetie? Pussy, vagina, cunt; what’s between your legs. Well, maybe not yours, I ain’t got a chance to check y-” 

“I would like to change the subject!” Dahlia blurts out; face feeling like it’s been set on fire and no doubt a vivid flush a red. Adelaide’s little grin and Pratt’s laughter only serving to make her face more crimson. 

“Well…if we’re on the subject of faces I wanna ride, the Ryes are having their barbecue next Saturday, you and Hudson gonna make it out?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“I’ll be seeing you then, Pratt, and hopefully you too, junior deputy. I gotta call my remodeling guys.”

They say goodbyes and wave off Adelaide, going back to the patrol car. Dahlia cuddling her new opossum friend as she goes. This is her baby now and will comfort her through humiliation at the hands of Hope County’s sex perverts. 

“What are you doing?” Pratt asks, when Dahlia opens the car door. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Fuckin’, put the opossum down!”

“No.” 

“You’re not bringing that thing into the car.” 

“I’m not abandoning my child.” 

“It’s literally a wild animal.” 

“It’s a opossum, not a bear, calm your tits,” Dahlia tells him firmly, opening the door and plopping down with her critter in her lap. Pratt groans and jumps in the driver side. 

“So, what, you’re gonna take it home and make it a pet?” 

“No.” 

“Then what?” 

“You know how some stations have like animals and stuff?” 

“You mean K-9 units, trained dogs? You wanna train a fuckin’ opossum?” 

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” she rolls her hand flippantly, “I’m not gonna train her, she’s perfect the way she is.” 

“Have fun getting the sheriff on board with this, that thing could be rabid for all you know.” 

“Opossums don’t carry rabies; like they physically can’t have rabies.” 

“Okay, fuckin’, opossum expert.” 

Dahlia spends a mile or two, just watching out the window at the world passing by as she scratches at her new friend’s ears. Passing by a sign for Rye and Son’s Aviation, she remembers the conversation with Adelaide. 

“Who’re the Rye’s?”  She turns her head towards Pratt, head cocking to the side in curiously. 

“Huh? Oh, they’re a couple who live not too far from Falls End. They have these big barbecues that basically the entire county shows up to; everyone brings some food, it’s a whole thing.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“You should come.” 

“I don’t know them.” 

“It’s open invitation, you live in Hope County, cook some food, show up. It’ll be fun.” 

“Just like the F.A.N.G Center?”  She raises an eyebrow 

“Well, if you don’t freak out and run off halfway through, yeah, things can be fun.” 

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at Pratt. 

Side eyes and double takes are taken at Dahlia as she walks into the station carrying a opossum. Dahlia just nuzzles her face against the top of the opossum’s head as they reach the office, plopping down in her chair and propping her feet up on her desk. Pratt walks past with his lunch and Dahlia grabs a handful of apple slice off his plate; making the older deputy stop and glare at her.

“Can I help you?”

“I gotta feed her.” Dahlia shrugs, letting the opossum munch on one of the slices of fruit.

“Feed her your lunch.”

“My lunch is an energy drink and a twinkie.” She ate the last of the lunches Caroline sent with her; an empty fridge and a sink full of Tupperware waiting for her at home. 

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“The world’s too cruel to end my misery.”

“Jesus fuck,” he rolls his eyes, “calm it down, Hot Topic.”

“What are you doing, Rook?” Heat zings up Dahlia’s cheeks when she hears Hudson’s voice and sudden fear that being the weird opossum girl might not be what she wants.

“Is that a fuckin’ rat?” A guy next to her, dressed in the standard officer uniform asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Feeding...opossum…Who are you?”

“Rook, this is Brennan, he’s one of our officers, Brennan this is-”

“The rookie deputy, I know, I’m officer Beau Brennan, nice to meet ya,” he says, extending a hand and she moves the opossum to properly shake it.  Beau Brennan, possibly the most southern sounding name she’s ever heard, especially this far up North.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“But, uh, Rook,” Hudson looks at Dahlia, “should you really be bringing a wild animal into the station?”

“Maybe not...she’s friendly, though.”

“So, Joey questions you and she has a point,” Pratt swings his hand in an angry gesture, “but I do it and I get mocked?”

“Yes.”

“Well, why don’t you tell Joey, how you want the opossum to be the station pet?”

“Do you?” Joey raises an eyebrow at Dahlia, the younger deputy’s face turning a deeper shade of scarlett.

“...yes..”

“If you want the thing so bad, why not just take it home as your own pet?”

“That’s what I was asking!” Pratt butts in.

“Five seconds ago, you were asking how the hell I kept myself alive, you want me in charge of keeping something else alive?”

“She’s got you there,” Hudson looks back to Dahlia, mirth lighting up those olive green eyes, “what's her name gonna be?”

Dahlia suddenly has no coherent thought in her head. Just cricket noises as she realizes she’s never actually named an animal in her life. Every time she’s ever had a pet or something close to one, she just refers to it by species or someone else names it. The cat’s name is cat, dog’s name is dog.

“....Opossum…?”

“Not how names work,” Hudson pets behind the opossum’s ear, “Petunia?”

“Petunia, it is,” Dahlia flusters to say grinning, she’s actually okay with this, Hudson doesn’t mind the weird opossum girl.  

“Why are you encouraging her!?”

“‘Cause it’s annoying you.”

“I think the girls have you outnumbered, Staci.”

“Staci?” Dahlia looks over at Pratt, is that his first name? She’s never actually heard it before. His face completely falls, hazel eyes harsh and angry.

“Shut up.”

“Your name is Staci, oh my god.”

“Spelled with an ‘i’,” Beau adds, grinning as Dahlia starts cackling.

“Oh my god, you have a sorority girl name!”

“Laugh it up, you know when Whitehorse comes back, you’re gonna have to say goodbye to your new friend.”

“Eh, it’s Rook, so he won’t mind much,” Joey says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Huh?”

“You don’t know?” Brennan raises an eyebrow at her, “everyone knows that the sheriff is soft on you. Been hardly a week and it’s like he’s adopted you.”

Her cheeks hurt from grinning, Whitehorse sees her like his own child? She knows she’s lucky to even have gotten the job; let alone the way he’s been going the extra mile to make her feel at place here. But knowing he may see her like family lights up her heart. The sheriff already reminded her of Lloyd before, but hearing that cements the comparison.

“Dear god, if you were a dog, your tail would be wagging,” Pratt-Staci, grumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It's cute,” Brennan defends her, “we don’t even need a canine unit with her around. Ow!”

Brennan jumps when Dahlia kicks him in the shin, hard enough to bruise she’s hoping. Hudson and Pratt laugh. Petunia is content and nuzzling into Dahlia’s neck as the four shoot the shit, the topic of the Rye barbecue coming up. Hudson and Brennan both plan on being there as well.  Dahlia finds herself sinking deeper into her chair, holding Petunia closer. Taking her phone from her pocket and checking the notifications on John’s little video. Other than someone claiming he looks familiar and another person saying he’s hot; it’s mostly more taunts. 

“What’s going on here?” Whitehorse’s voice cuts through the chatter, the sheriff coming through and spotting the gathered deputies and officer. His eyes landing on Petunia within a second, “Rook?”

“Yeah?” She scrolls past someone using a gif of John’s light up yes sign as a reaction gif. 

“Why are you holding a opossum?”

“She likes being held.” She doesn’t bother looking up from the phone. 

“She?”

“Her name’s Petunia.”

“You can’t have a opossum.”

“She’s the station opossum.”

“Rook,” Whitehorse sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “just go put her outside.”

“So, she’s an outside station pet?”

“I don’t care as long as she’s outside.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Dahlia says, finally looking up and grinning ear to ear. Whitehorse shakes his head and just waves her off before going into his office, no doubt looking for some Tylenol or Aspirin at this point.

“That’s it,” Pratt lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head at Dahlia.

“Told ya, soft on Rook.”

“I’m gonna take Petunia outside, to her new home.”

“Do you think she’ll stay around?” Hudson asks, as her and Pratt follow after Dahlia, towards the little lot of land behind the department.

“If I keep feeding her, she should, right?”

“I’m gonna have to start bringing two lunches, aren’t I?”

“Nah, you don’t wanna overfeed her.”

“Hilarious.”

The wind is blowing just a bit; breezing by and shifting the grass around them. The sun starting to set as the evening arrives. Petunia licks her cheek and then runs up on Dahlia’s shoulder, little hands grabbing at her skin as she clambers up onto her head; curling up like she belongs there.

“Pffft,” Hudson sputters out a laugh, “look this way, Rook.”

Dahlia faces Joey, grinning with the apples of her cheeks flushing red. The older deputy has her phone out and snaps a photo of Dahlia with Petunia perched on her head. She’s not sure why the moment is worth catching, but she’s glad it was.

“Send that to me, if you don’t mind…” Dahlia asks as she puts Petunia down in the grass.

“No problem,” she taps away and Dahlia feels her phone buzz, “and don’t worry I’ll send it to you, too, Pratt.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Dahlia sits down on the ground, petting Petunia as the sun sets. As always Hudson and Pratt leave that evening for the Spread Eagle, she catches Brennan talking about going to the Hollyhock Saloon with some fellow officers before she leaves. Everyone has their friend group, their routine. And it’s time for her own; going home to an empty trailer. 

And an empty fridge, she remembers. Oh god, she has to go shopping doesn’t she? It’s a break in the monotony but she’s not sure it’s a welcomed one. She also has to do dishes at some point…and laundry…  Adulting sucks. 

There’s a little family owned market in the Henbane River region; just a bit more to it than the general store in Falls End. The fluorescent lights irritate her eyes as she pulls off her helmet to look around. Never the cooking type; Dahlia’s hoard comprises of things that don’t require more than a microwave to prep. Frozen meals, snacks, and absolute garbage pile high in her cart as she scours the shelves for more. This might get her through for a week. 

Her phone buzzes, another Twitter notification, she’s sure someone else reacting to the Eden’s Gate commercial. She tugs her phone from her pocket; just like she thought a Twitter notification, but the message beneath it catches her eye. A text from Hudson, where she sent the photo of Dahlia and Petunia. The young deputy hasn’t gotten around to opening it; mind preoccupied. She opens the message. 

Dahlia doesn’t take pictures of herself and has never been particularly enthralled with her own appearance. But, she likes this photo of her. Petunia is perched on her head, dark eyes warm and soft. The evening sun setting behind Dahlia illuminates her in golden light; dark hair mussed, brown eyes lighting up amber where the light hits, and a wide grin on her face. 

Beneath the photo is a message from Hudson captioning it; 

‘cant tell who looks better here’ 

 Heat makes it way up to her hairline. Is…did Hudson call her cute? She’s comparing Dahlia to Petunia, a opossum, both Petunia specifically and opossums in general are cute. So if Hudson’s saying Dahlia’s looks are on par with a opossum; does Hudson mean she’s cute? But, not everyone thinks opossums are cute… Some people think they’re gross little trashy goblins, does Hudson think she looks like a trash goblin? She seemed to like Petunia, but just cause she was nice to the animal doesn’t mean she thinks opossums are cute. Dahlia leans her forehead against the freezer section for a moment; letting a turkey meal cool her flushed face as she forces herself to not agonize over this. 

A few deep breathes and a concerned passerby make Dahlia straighten back up, getting her bearings before heading to self-check-out. She quickly rings up her items and bags them, leaving the market with her grocery bags in tow. 

“Leave me alone…please…”  A soft demure voice whispers, a woman about Dahlia’s age stands beside the road a man towering over her with a beet red face. The smell of liquor coming off him on the wind. His hand is wrapped tightly around her wrist, her skin indenting under his grasp as she tries to fold in on herself to avoid his touch. 

“Wh-what, you scared daddy Joe’ll call you a sinner for spending some time with me?”

The stench of alcohol wafts off his breath with every drunken slur; even at a distance, the smell churns her stomach.  She drops her bags on the cement and makes a beeline towards them, she needs to keep this from escalating, or someone will get hurt. 

“Leave me alone!” The girl’s voice shakes as she tries to pry herself from the man’s grasp. 

“Fuckin’ peggie whore!”  

“Hey!” Dahlia yells out and runs as his other hand starts to raise and pull back. 

She gets between them just in time to feel the crack of his hand striking her face. An ache and echo of pain rings through her jaw; a metallic taste where her cheek scraped the inside of her jaw.  Glassy eyes widen, the man shocked at the interruption. 

“Wh-who-”

“I’m a deputy with the Sheriff’s Department, and unless you want some jail time for assault, I recommend you get the fuck out of here.” 

“Pssh,” he scoff, whiskey scented spittle spraying into the air, “li-”

“I’m giving you to the count of three to get out of my sight, sir. One,” she leans into his space, glaring him down and sneering as she counts, “two, th-“ 

“F-fine, fine, fuckin’ bitch.”

He makes a dismissive hand gesture as he grumbles a curse, but he stumbles away, leaving the two girls alone. Dahlia rubs absent mindedly at her cheek before turning towards the girl; a peggie, he called her. One of the followers of Eden’s Gate. She’s beautiful, five or so inches taller than Dahlia, with long black hair falling in waves down her shoulders. Delicate fine facial features, the deputy can’t help but feel the girl’s face might have shattered has it been struck.  Like the handful of peggies she’s seen, traces of tattoos and markings are on her. ENVY etched across her chest and a delicate tattoo of vines with blue flowers curling up her forearm.  

“Are you okay?” Dahlia asks her. 

“Oh yes, yes, I’m fine, but are you?”

The girl reaches out, fingers nearly brushing over Dahlia’s cheek. She instinctively ducks back, avoiding the touch. Strangers touching her is never something she’s been fond of, though she can’t imagine many people are. 

“I’ve taken worse from better; I’ll be fine.  You be careful and have a safe night, ma’am.” Dahlia nods at her and makes the quick walk to her abandoned groceries and bike. 

She stoops down and begins to collect the food that fell from her bags. A pair of slender hands join in, helping gather up a bag of microwave meals for her, the girl offering it to Dahlia once it’s secure. 

“Thanks,” Dahlia murmurs, taking it from the stranger, stashing her groceries in the little storage space under her motorcycle’s seat. 

“It’s the least I can do…I’ve never seen you before.” 

“I started here about a week ago.” 

“Really, that’s incredible…The Lord placed you here at the exact right time.” 

“Nah, I just needed groceries,” Dahlia shrugs, “well, hope you have a nice night.”

“Wait,” she knots a hand in the deputy’s shirt, “I’m Layla…” 

“Nice to meet you,” Dahlia offers, Layla’s dark brown eyes are darting around, avoiding eye contact. 

“I…was on my way to a sermon at Father Joseph’s church and-”

“Look, Layla, if you need my help just say the word. But, if this is the beginning of a conversion spiel; save your breath and my time, ‘cause it ain’t happening.” 

“I don’t feel safe, going there alone, right now. What if he comes back?” Her arms cross over herself, the thin cardigan not doing much to protect her from the night chill. 

“Oh, uh, you don’t have anyone who can go with you? Aren’t religions like, community things?”

“I was gonna walk there by myself, but…” 

“Fuckin’ hell, where is it?”

“Up the north bridge, one of the island’s in the middle of the county, it isn’t far.” 

“Here,” Dahlia shoves her helmet at Layla, “I got one helmet and if anyone’s brains are splattering on the road, I’d rather they be mine.”

Layla pulls the helmet on over her head, body still shivering. Dahlia shies and shrugs off her leather jacket; it’s only going to get colder on the ride there with wind whipping around. She hands it to Layla who smiles and takes it, pulling the worn black leather jacket on. Oversized on Dahlia and still marginally so on Layla. 

“Thank you,” Layla murmurs as Dahlia straddles her bike, then climbs on the back. Dahlia takes in a deep breathe when arms wrap around her midsection, Layla pressing in close to the deputy’s back as she starts the engine. The familiar nature of the touch contrasting with the fact they’re strangers. 

As Dahlia makes her way up to the bridge, Layla lifts the visor just a smidge so that she can whisper directions in the deputy’s ear. Once she’s past the bridge coming from the Henbane, the roads have fencing and barbwire, making it nearly impossible to go from the road into the woods on the island. She rides down the winding road, taking a left turn off the paved road onto a beaten path, rounding the corner she sees it. 

A cold sweat builds on the back of her neck, heart dropping into her stomach. It’s a collection of small white buildings, dark roofs, with Latin scrawled across some of the buildings; Luxuria, Acedia, and more she’s sure. All of it on a large piece of land, within she can see picnic tables, bundles of white flowers, where they might gather for picnics or barbecues. She pulls her bike to a stop just a distance from the white gate; Church of Eden’s Gate etched in the upper arches. 

People are all around, getting out of white trucks and cars, greeting each other with hugs and waves; throwing side eye glances at Dahlia when they notice her. Dogs are barking somewhere; she doesn’t know where from. Layla clambers off the back of Dahlia’s bicycle, pulling off her helmet and handing it back to her. 

“Sister Layla,” a deep masculine voice rumbles out, a familiar man standing by the white gates. Tall with a thick dark beard, his deep dark eyes are focused on Dahlia as he speaks to Layla. Theodore is what the other man called him that day when Dahlia caught them stealing from The Spread Eagle. He looks a moment away from ripping the deputy’s head off her shoulders; his shirt dipping in a way that exposes the way PRIDE etches across his chest, crossed out as are all sins the church members wear. 

“Brother Theodore, this is-”

“The new deputy, we’ve met, why is she here?” 

“I was just getting ready to leave, don’t worry.” 

“What,” Layla’s eyes widen and she grasps Dahlia’s arm, “you can’t.” 

“I can’t…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow and shoots a pointed look where Layla’s grabbing her, making the girl let go. Layla’s trying to rope her into this shit, isn’t she?

“You came all this way Deputy, why not just come in, listen to the sermon.” 

“Not happening, I already told you, not my scene. Just give me back my jacket, so I can leave, okay?” 

“But,” Layla chews her lip, gears in her head turning, “how am I suppose to get home?” 

“I saw at least thirty people go in that church, I’m sure someone will be willing to give you a ride home.” 

“Oh, uh, I-” 

“Brother Theodore, Sister Layla, service will be starting soon!” Someone calls out from within the compound. 

“I have to go, I’ll be right back, Deputy!” Layla rushes to say and then runs off towards the church, Dahlia’s jacket still on her shoulders. 

“Hey, wait!” Dahlia jogs after Layla, hurrying through the little compound, but the woman vanishes into the steepled church ordained in cross symbols. 

She stops, just before entering the door and takes a step back. The crush of boots in dirt echoes beside her before coming to a stop, the looming of someone nearby. Body heat lingering near her side as she looks up at the cross on the topmost steeple of the church. 

“You going in?” 

“No.” 

“Have fun out here,” Theodore tells her, moving to press a heavy hand against the church door. 

“Those dogs,” she starts, listening to the barks ringing out around her, “they friendly?” 

“Why don’t you go find out?” He leaves her with a smirk, walking into that church. 

Dahlia lets out a harsh breath and pushes her hand back through her hair. A breeze pushes through, her t-shirt and thin uniform shirt does nothing to keep out the chill. She’s not leaving without her jacket; her wallet and phone all in the pockets.  Music echoes from inside the church as she plops down onto the ground outside it, balancing her helmet on her knees and resting her chin on it. 

If your soul has grown weary, and your heart feels tired… 

She fidgets with her helmet, chewing her lip. Please let this Joseph guy be short winded, she just wants to leave. The entire place sets her on edge, makes her skin crawl and she wants to hide away. 

Let the water wash away your sins…

A cool breeze passes by, a soft whipping sound mingling with the singing. She scans the night sky, searching for her favorite and only known constellation, she has a feeling she’s going to be here a while… 

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, BRIDGET! You’ve been accepted for the role of POMPEY. Admin Minnie: I had some trouble writing Piero in the beginning; in fact, I rewrote him a few times because I couldn’t find the right words to describe the core of him. But you, Bridget, nailed it exactly in ways that I had not even seen myself. You made him utter real — sometimes uncomfortably so, all of that feeling and pride, As I was reading your application, I immediately felt like he was already yours. I really tried to pick out my favorite line in your application, the detail that really drove it home for me — but the truth is, Bridget, you won me over so thoroughly that I love it all. I cannot wait to see you on our dash again, Bridget, and I’m so happy you’re back! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Bridget

Age | Twenty-two

Preferred Pronouns | She/they

Activity Level | I’m either gonna be on every three minutes or three days apart, there is no in between, but I promise to keep my activity constant and in line with your standards and let it be known if I am having any struggles with meeting them.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp?  | Hazel

IN CHARACTER

Character | Pompey ; Piero Montrelle Ruiz

Piero ; italian: rock

Montrelle ; italian: mountain

Ruiz ; spanish: famous ruler

What drew you to this character? |

Listen, I made a meme when I was apping Hazel, Imma show y’all right now:

It’s a dumb meme and I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but share it.

I honestly play characters like Piero more than I play nicer, more morally-sound characters like Hazel, but I wanted to try something new, so ultimately I decided to pursue Hazel at the time. That said, as much as I love Hazel and would love to write her again, I kept thinking about Piero and his youth and ambition, and so now here we are, me obsessed and wanting to write him.

Okay, rambling ? Done. Let’s do this.

Something about Piero just screamed to me boy king, and that’s just my style. It was in the way he put himself above other children, his pride and his ego. He was born to be something and, in his youth, before he knew of his parents’ empire, before they told him who he was meant to be, he was searching for it. He couldn’t find in it eager kiddy games, he couldn’t find it in chit chat or childhood experiences. But there was something that rushed through him when he saw them stumble, he found satisfaction in figuring things out ages before them. It was in feeling better than them, feeling stronger and superior, and — simply, just being better. He had no time for laughter, for foolishness. What was the point of that, if not to waste time ? ( He was a mean boy, but his parents never pushed him not to be. If he caused another to bleed, it was their fault for not defending themselves. If his whispers of cruel words caused them to weep, they needed to strengthen their mental fortitude. No fault was to be found in Piero ).

I also want to pinpoint there’s something about Piero that also reads naivety to me. He considers himself wise and intelligent, and to some point I do agree ( books and tutors can teach, and they do ) but there are other notions that bring out his youth. It’s in his eavesdropping on his parents — yes, he was young when it happened, but still someone wiser would have understood that some secrets are such for a reason. Instead, he lusted for the unknown, something bigger than himself ( this — as well, is something I’d like to focus on, but I’ll come back to this later. ) and he found himself frenzied until he was finally privy to the family secrets. I see him as being inexperienced, someone who doesn’t have quite the worldliness as someone twice his age or even someone who had to struggle for basic needs during their childhood.

( Also, there is the fact his parents groomed him as being special. He never earned the title, instead it was bequeathed unto him from the very start. His parents claimed he walked younger than most, talked younger than most. He excelled in classes, he excelled in his physical ability. Again and again, his parents claimed him remarkable. I think, amongst the Veronesi, it might be time for him to realize that maybe he isn’t more than his name. This probably should go under plotting but I’m imagining him seeing others with skills he was never taught, maybe those his mother would have considered barbaric and uncouth. Piero wouldn’t see that, though. He would see force and deadly talent and he would see the areas in which he holds deficits. Also, just the ability and skill that comes with time and practice beyond natural talent. I keep reminding myself that, although a little bit weary with a lot of trauma, Piero is still nineteen. I used to think that was so old and so mature, but he’s barely more than a kid. Fun Science Fact: brains aren’t developed fully until their mid-20s !!! Some studies suggest early 30s !!!! Piero hasn’t even reached 20s !!!! He’s still baby !!!!! He’s going to make mistakes and learn and he might be reluctant and angry to do ( please see trauma re: parent death and assassination attempts )  so but he’s gonna do it to better himself which is what he wants to do !!! )

Piero learned so much from his parents, from tutors and teachers alike, but there is something more about experiencing things for himself and not just from the words of others and that’s where his youth shows. The first time he fought, really fought, not for practice or for fun ( something about him just coded him as a bully in my mind, one who’d pick a fight with someone who, one, would fight back, and, two, someone he would definitely beat, but I digress ), in my mind, was when Tiberius came to kill him. There was a fight or flight reaction and he was proud and cocky and pumped up on adrenaline because — this — this was what it was all for. He fought with a flurry of fists, frenzied, wild. In that moment, he knew this for certain: Ruizes were powerful and forceful and they would not flee. If he died right then, so be it, but he wouldn’t have looked death in the face and accepted it.

Okay, so this has turned into a rambling character analysis, and I apologize because I said I was done rambling, and clearly not. That said, I don’t regret it. I just have so much passion and fervor for Piero and I could write a ton more. I might. Later. We’ll see.

I just can’t help but be captured by how striking he is. He’s new to Verona, new to this scene of criminal seediness because this is when he’s finally beginning to get his hands dirty, beyond the basics of opening his eyes. His parents were introducing him to this life, but they didn’t let him delve too deep. They were bringing him in slowly, and then they died. He had nothing right then, nothing but his name and its weight. That wasn’t enough, but his brutality was. When death came for him, it made a mark on Tiberius for him — maybe all of the Capulets, too — and now he’s determined to leave a stain on all of Verona, perhaps Spain and the rest of the world, too.

I originally saw him as something of a blank slate when it came to his being in Verona, but after thinking it through a tad more, he isn’t. His parents wrote his future for him with the very incident of his birth, and now he is filling in the blanks that have been left for him after their deaths. Verona — the Capulets — they are a step in his path to power. Here, he could find allies — he already has enemies — and he learned at a young age the value others could be in company. Over time, maybe they will see that he is someone with a bright future, someone who should be watched carefully because blink and you’ll miss his grab for something better.

He should not be overlooked and that is something I think people might do. Sure, his family had a reputation, one that might cause some pause, but they might think he isn’t them. He is young and inexperienced, but there’s a chip on his shoulder and in his mouth is a taste for blood. He won’t go down quietly or without a fight. He is watching and waiting for chance and opportunity. He’ll prove any doubter wrong, he’s sure of it with all the self-confidence and egotism a princeling could have.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

1. Emotional Motion Sickness: Something that struck me about Piero is how he once wore his emotions on his sleeve. He fought for his life, fueled by loss and grief. He has a practiced void in his eyes and locked tears away. In my mind, this is not him, it is not in his nature. He was the sort to be fueled by idle amusements, wanting satisfaction, his eagerness knowing no bounds. He feels, and he feels immensely. It could be said it’s what he does best.  But now? He is quiet, showing little. It’s vacant and a little numbing, and the void in his eyes is cold and distant. What his cards are and what he intends to play are known to him and him only. I can’t help but think that maybe, one day, he is going to break, the facade dropping, eyes blazing. Anyone caught in the crossfire surely would regret their taunts and jeers.

1. I just have this vision of him snapping. It would take a lot — honestly, a lot — because he’s created this solid version of himself, almost patient, somewhat mostly obedient ( I do imagine he chafes under rules a little — more than a little bit actually, but he bites it back time and time again ) but unfeeling. Jibs and jabs don’t get to him. They seemingly roll off of his back. I have to say that isn’t the case. He’s proud and he can only take so many insults. If — actually, when — he breaks, it’s going to have been a long time coming. The facade will start to break, cracks showing in the twitch of his fingers, the tension in his jaw. Maybe it will earn him respect from those around him when he snaps and demands more for him  — he’s more than just the last of the Ruizes, living off of the faded glory of their name, and he’ll be damned if he’s not allowed to show it — but maybe it will only be a reminder that he was a loose end, and he was meant to be dead to begin with.

2. Who Am I? You Decide: He comes to Verona and what’s most obvious is that he has offered himself wholly to the Capulets. It’s not what his parents did — they were owed power for their allyship while Piero is now owed nothing. At the beginning, he is dutiful and obedient. He’s got nothing to lose but he has everything to gain here. He has to prove himself, really it’s his main goal. To do this, he finally understands words his parents told him so many years ago. Detener la marea y esperarar al momento adecuado: Hold back the tide and wait for the right time. He’s trying to listen and be quiet and wait and watch, but he’s never known patience well. He acted and reacted in his youth — power and privilege granted that ability — and this restraint is taking a lot of effort.

1. The facade crumbles and falls slowly, piece by piece. It starts with remarks and quips that are a touch too dry and that have too jagged an edge to people who don’t matter. It then escalates. He tries to manipulate situations where he sees a chance to take hold. He bites when he should be muzzled ; he acts of his own accord. I have no doubt that his own desires and whims to take action will get him in trouble. He is a wicked boy and always has been, soul stained black by birthright and only darkened with time. He found thrill in other people getting hurt, whether by his hand or not. He found glee in twisting his words to twist knives in others’ hearts. Maybe he learned it from watching his parents — they were by no means good people — but maybe it was part nurture, part nature. It was fate to be bad, or at the very least unkind.

2. His true nature shows in these ways: he speaks when he shouldn’t, he becomes too comfortable around Tiberius, a man who is like a friend and a brother, but ultimately was the man who was meant to kill him. It shows in his interactions with Vivianne, charm oozing, frenetic words of grandeur and idyllic plans slipping from his lips in eager commentaries about Verona and Spain and the whole world further. He speaks to them as if they are not his betters — as if he is more than even an equal — and soon it is not only them. It will become everyone.

3. Throwing Rocks Around Your Room: Everything in his life has been destroyed or taken from him in irreparable ways. This new life, this new existence, a part of him wonders how long it will last ( there is, of course, a certainty that this has to last. It’s this life in the mobs, or death. No middle, no escape. All or nothing. Black or white ). He seems so neutral, so unmoveable, but his head is a wrecking ball. He thinks of ways to destroy not only himself but all those around him. A part of him thinks the Capulets are to blame for the ruination of his family and their name — exceedingly childish, for sure — but he wonders what it would be like to see them crumble, perhaps making a martyr of himself in the process. The one flaw to this is that he does not want to die. For what use was him surviving this long if it comes not to a head ? He needs to make a mark. He needs to be known not just by a few Capulets and other Veronesi — but by everyone. He wants parents to shiver when their babes utter his name. He wants his name in history books, imprinted on pages that will survive longer than their maker.

1. Destruction has followed Piero. At first, it was only others, starting with children who crossed him, and then it turned to the enemies of his family. He did well when it was his hand casting the stone. And then, it turned on him. His family’s empire turned from masterpiece to rubble. Another turn took and his family was whittled down to one. The idea of erupting and destroying who he thinks hurt him ? Somewhat appealing. But he can’t do it. He wants more. He’s hungry to become bigger than he is. I want him to find a way to do it ( and while he’d consider acting Brutus within the Capulets, his own pride and ambition would be champ at the bit, rendering him unable ) or at least consider his options. He’s restless as part of the Capulets. He feels like they are keeping him down, not letting him be enough.

4. I Don’t Have a Fancy Title for This One I’m Sorry: When it comes to Tiberius, Piero wants to impress him, to prove him right, that sparing him was the right choice. But at the same time, bitterness remains and finds itself seeping into his blood, the feeling intensifying, every time Piero finds himself being held back by the scruff. With his … befriending ( that isn’t the right word, and it doesn’t convey what I want to say ? Admiring ? Infatuation — not romantically, of course ) of Vivianne, he wonders if impressing her over Tiberius is the way to go. He considers ignoring Tiberius, going off on his own and making his own choices. Maybe that’s what he needs to do to shake off the status of initiate, to become a soldier.

1. tl;dr: Eventually, if Tiberius doesn’t let Piero have a little more responsibility and things to do, he’ll find someone else who will grant him that.

Current State of Being

→ Piero is trying to stay in line, keep quiet, and do what’s asked of him. But he’s antsy and he’s simmering. There’s so much he has to say ; he’s so not used to being at the bottom of the pecking order. It’s not going to last. He’s got a lot to say, he wants to do things. Sooner or later, he’s going to stop waiting for permission ( and, in turn, he’ll beg for forgiveness if need-be )

Character Goals

→ Have Piero use his voice. He stops listening to the jeers and taunts of everyone who thinks they know all there is to know about them, and he tells them off. He’s no longer silent and maybe people will look at him in a different light. Or maybe he gets in trouble. Either way would further. I’m leaning towards having him react and get angry, raising his voice in a way he shouldn’t.

→ His true nature shows. Wicked is as wicked does. He gets comfortable in Verona. He acts on instinct, he lashes out. Maybe someone gets hurt — maybe it’s him, maybe not. He starts to abuse his ability to talk to people, twisting words and twisting hearts and feelings. Manipulation is in his blood. He acts out, he steps out of line and does something for people to see him as more than just a little initiate in the Capulet’s gang.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |

Don’t kill baby jk do it i dare you

IN DEPTH

( i’m replying to some of the questions & i did a para sample )

What is your favorite place in Verona?

He gets lost more often than he’d like. He wanders down streets he’s never gone down and through alleys with unknown endings. A part of him would be delighted if it wasn’t overtaken by the idea that he needed to know these streets better than he did. There was no time to be idle, no time to do anything with purpose. Most of the Capulets, surely the Montagues, knew this city like the back of their hands.

He wanted to know it better than they did, better than those naturally Verona-born. It was more than a want, it was a need that burned within him.

Still, the streets were beautiful.

It was different than home, than Spain. There, his family had resided just outside one of its largest city. From his room, he could hear the sounds of cars whizzing by on nearby highways. If he didn’t close the curtains, he would be bombarded with the lights of the city, no stars to be seen.

Here, despite its age and all of its magnitudes, Verona seemed infinitely smaller to him. He was refusing to allow himself to like it, to find a home.

It’s a long time before he finally answers the question, and his response can hardly be considered an answer. He only gives a shrug of his shoulders, absent, vague, and his gaze turns towards the window. His eyes are dead and shark-like as people pass by.

That’s not an answer, Piero.

He sighs, a loud and exasperated sound. There’s another pause on his part, this one longer and emphasized by his ability to not look at the asker once. This person — the soldato — means nothing to him. He’s sure they’ve already passed their prime. They’re as likely to ascend further as he is to fall flat — which is to say unlikely. And because of this, he cares little for them. He waits to say something poised and clever until perfect ears are listening.

Finally, there comes an answer, the barest bones of respect he’ll give, one with a little more substance to it. That doesn’t mean his voice has an affect that is more than flat. It doesn’t mean he seems to care. “ There’s a little flower shop that I can see from the window of my flat. I’ve never — “ his nose wrinkles at the thought “ — I’ve never bought anything from it, but it reminds me of when I was living another life. ”

It reminds him of the day his parents died and he was left standing alone to face their destruction, his shoes sticking to the hardwood floors as blood dried on their soles.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“ Ambition is my folly. ”

It’s said lightly, airily, as if it doesn’t matter. Look closer, see how the muscle clenches in his cheek, how there’s a sparkle momentarily flashing in his eyes before it fades to dullness. He wants to do something that has weight ( — like the heft of a gun in his hand, the feeling of his body atop another’s as his fists bear down ) and yet he is relegated to simple tasks only. He feels like a page, or perhaps worse, a pawn, unimportant and oh-so-easily replaceable.

Maybe his mistake has been living.

It shouldn’t seem like that.

But he hates being an underling. He hates being told what to do and when to do it. His life is now dictated by another, not even a Ruiz. When it was his parents instructing him, it felt different, less like someone was making all of his choices for him and more like — more like he mattered ? There is no need to convince himself that he did matter to his parents — he was next in line, preened and primed, being readied to take the throne his family had been sitting on for generations — because he knows it’s true. Here ? One wrong move can cost everything.

Perhaps he should have allowed himself to have been martyred, killed in cold blood despite fighting to prevent it. He would have been the last of the Ruizes ; they’d have been remembered for not going down easily. Now ? He thinks a wrong glance cast could mean his throat will be slit.

You don’t seem so ambitious to me.

He supposes most won't have seen it. Tiberius knows — Tiberius has heard him ask over and over for something to do, something bigger and better, with meaning, and so has Vivianne, he would be remiss to forget her — but everyone else ? He doesn’t suppose it’s important enough information for his sponsor to pass along that he wants to do more, so he rationalizes that most think he’s just a good little soldier-to-be, keeping his head down and toes in line. It’s not time for people to fear him, not just yet. That time will come.

“ Then maybe my biggest mistake was that lie. ”

Para Sample

He has been being followed for sometime now. It is always a shadow in the periphery of his vision, disappearing when he turns to see, a jacket billowing behind someone who had just walked out of frame. Piero wonders if this should make him nervous. He’s considered it, the idea that someone must want him dead to end the Ruiz family once and for all. They came for his parents, now it’s his turn. It’s a horrifying thought at first light, but there is something dangerously satisfying to him within it, at the idea of someone considering him that necessary to end. Perhaps it’s dark and twisted, but not all boys born to wear a crown come out golden.

Nearly a week passes, and by now he’s on edge. Every knock on the door of the shitty motel he’s staying in, every blow of wind against the glass windows, sets him on edge. There are purple circles under his eyes, dark as can be. He hasn’t been sleeping well. He tosses and turns, his deepest worries allowed to fester and grow in unguarded dreams, until he wakes unrested. He can’t go on like this much longer. He’s wondered if it’s worth it to flee Spain, to call on distant relatives, begging on bent knees for salvation and charity. His own pride sets him straight. Cowardice is not an option. Ruiz blood has reigned over Spain for generations. He will not be the one to bring that to an end, bringing shame to his name and the memory of his parents.

It’s just past three in the morning when he hears the turn of the doorknob. He sits up straight in the rickety armchair in the corner, his eyes adjusting to the darkened room, and he stares and he waits. He considers running. There’s a window in the bathroom, already open. He’s slender enough to squeeze through it if he really wants to, he’s given thought to it already — the doorknob rattles again, a thump echoes through the room as something hits the wood of the door — but he thinks to himself he doesn’t have the time. If he tries it, he’ll be caught halfway out. He cannot flee if it will lead inevitably to his demise. It’s embarrassing and shameful and wouldn’t do. Even in the face  of death, Piero is as proud as ever.

The moments before the door cracks open, broken by the weight of another’s body, seem to last forever. He thinks of himself. He thinks of all the things he has yet to do. He thinks about his parents, their dreams and expectations for him. This becomes painfully clear: he cannot die without a fight. This is his moment. No matter the outcome, someone will remember the Ruizes. They were once noble and strong, but they didn’t allow their fire to go out so easily. It’s all he can do.

The door breaks, and he’s on his feet finally. The room is still dark but he can see motion in the darkness. He will let his attacker come to him. To tire himself out, to make all motion, seems like it’d be a mistake. Though he’s expecting it, the first hit knocks all of the air out of his lungs. Another hit lands, then another. Finally, something snaps within him. Elbows in, chin down. That’s what his mother taught him. He’s wild and frenzied, suddenly hits aren’t met with pause, and he begins throwing blow after blow, some hitting, some not. He’s all in. There is no hesitation, not anymore. It’s become apparent, right then, after this week of waiting, that perhaps another motivation is a fear of death.

It’s not an unreasonable thing. He is barely nineteen, hardly an adult, barely lived. He thinks there is so much more for him to do, to see and to experience. In his head, his mantra becomes I will not die today. Over and over, he says it to himself, despite blows hitting his body, his own strikes meeting their targets, muscles pounding against flesh.

Thoughts continue to rush through his mind. Why is he fighting ? For his parents. Why does he need to ? They’re dead. There are tears welled up in his eyes, out of pain and anger and grief. They shouldn’t be dead. They should be here. He shouldn’t be fighting. A choke sob escapes through swelling lips, but he doesn’t let himself falter. This is life or death, and he is doing everything he can to choose life.

His mouth tastes of iron and salt, but it isn’t from his own body. A fist met his lips, teeth scraped against gentle flesh, and Piero had drawn first blood. Though there were bruises forming on his own body already, though his muscles ache and scream, there is something satisfying about that. All he can do is manage to stay standing, quick on his feet, landing in jabs where he can.

The sounds in the room are heavy breathing and the noise of flesh hitting flesh. He wonders if the neighbors have been disturbed. He wonders if they care.

He isn’t sure how long has passed. He isn’t sure how much longer he can last. This fight, this rush of adrenaline coursing through him, it’s all new. Before this, it had always been fights that ended when someone hit the ground or time was up. Never had stakes been so high. A part of him is screaming for it to stop ; another wonders why this is only the first time. There’s something fulfilling in it, and maybe that’s monstrous, but Piero thinks that maybe he was born to be brutal and bloodthirsty. For so long, he had been charming and a pseudo-intellectual, clever and cunning. There had been merit to that, yes, but this ? Every fist that connects with skin sends a rush through him, a thrill like never before.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed when the man takes a step back from him, a thrown swing causing him to fall off balance. For a second, his heart leaps to his throat and he thinks this is it. But the man doesn’t take the misstep as an opportunity. Instead, he’s looking at him, interest crossing his features. Piero doesn’t let his fists fall to his side, he doesn’t know why the man has stopped, and he is too in the moment to care. He takes the chance the man doesn’t and swings, his fist meeting the man’s jaw. It lands with a satisfying thwack, but again the man doesn’t retaliate.

“ That’s enough. ”

Piero can’t help but flinch under the tone of resolve and authority, but when he looks up again, the man is still staring at him. No, he is studying. Piero can’t fathom what he can be looking for or why their fight has stopped. His body is screaming, surely if he wakes tomorrow the pain will have increased tenfold, and his most basic reaction is still fight, fight, fight.

He’s winding up his fist again but again the man speaks. “ I said, enough. ”

Piero knows when words spoken are no longer suggestions — when instead they become commands. His fists fall, his shoulders do, too. His expression turns petulant, childlike in its quick and open displeasure.

He is silent, waiting — for what ? He wonders briefly. It could be death and damnation that awaits him. A part of him, however, thinks differently. He has never been idyllic, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses with glee and a grin, but something inside him is waiting not for death’s hand to grip him.

Instead, he waits. Blood is rushing through his ears still, his pulse is throbbing. Finally, finally —

“ Sit down, boy. Let’s talk. ”

Extras:

FAST FACTS

( i looked up spanish naming customs for this and i might have gotten it right but i might not have i need to do more reading to be 100% sure but i still wanted to include it )

→ Full Name: Piero Ruiz Lorca

→ Mother: Marcella Blanca Lorca de Ruiz

→ Father: Piero Ruiz Zapatero

→ Siblings: None

→ Birthday: July 12th ; this makes him a Cancer

→ Hometown: Cordoba, Spain

→ Dominant Character Traits: harsh, ambitious, bloodthirsty, rash, driven,  

HEADCANONS

001. For generations now, men wore the name Piero, his grandfather the third, Piero the fifth. There were expectations to meet, legacies to exceed. Live up to your namesake. Piero’s father was speaking of his own father at the time and, while this weight of that bore heavily down, the young boy could only think of becoming instead like his father. His grandfather died before memories of him solidified in a young child’s head, and so he only knew of him through tales and rumors. For his father, though, he watched as all stood when he walked into a room, his presence commanding respect, his reputation demanding it. While his hands were stained bloodied red, he was a beacon of light that people looked to, he captured attention easily. Once he understood, Piero craved that same state of existence. The children he grew up around, he had their attention, but in a different way. They whispered about him when his back was turned, they ducked their heads and left the room once he entered. It was a shame, really, but he was sure he would grow into his father’s shoes, filling the role the elder Ruiz did easily. For some time, he believed he was doing exactly that. And then, his parents were slaughtered, and the role he had to fill was that of a ghost. Now that he is human once more, as part of the Capulets and their crew, he feels like he once did as a child, unliked and not very seen. It’s digging at him, shoving splinters under already broken nails, causing him to grit his teeth and try a thousand times harder to earn a little bit of the damned respect he so desperately craves. It’s one of the few things that his father told him to do, this living up to his namesake. His father might be dead, rotting in the ground, with most of his words forgotten to time and space, but his spectral voice lives on in Piero’s head.

002. I have this image of Piero, maybe no older than fifteen, sixteen, at a table surrounded by compatriots of his parents. An older man, in his fifties, or perhaps, his sixties, is chewing tobacco. It’s disgusting. His gums are coated in black spit and when he smiles there are specks on his teeth. Piero cannot hide his disdain. But he’s chewing something, too. With all of his egotism, his thoughts that he is better than those before, he’s found a better option. Mint. It’s fresh and better and — the adults around him, most find him insufferable. For good reason. Anyway, it’s stupid and dumb, but god, I imagine it’s a habit he hasn’t broken. It also means mojitos are his favorite cocktail. No, I won’t elaborate on this or give any good reason for it besides please, I want it, and it’s just youthful arrogance, you know ? Before Verona, before his parents died, I feel like he had just come into himself — he felt sure and he was certain that life was grand. Era una vida tan buena. He was cocky and a little … I don’t know. Smarmy ? That’s not quite the word I want, but god, Piero was living each day as it came. Nothing could faze him. He lived under the shield of his parents and their name, of his own youth. There was privilege in that. He had seen the taste of power and luxe that his parents’ world — the one he was set to inherit once he was of age — and it delighted him. He revelled in it. He wouldn’t have to unlearn his innate cruelties, his hubris. He was a prince set to ascend, his crown was never askew.

003. As a child, he was raised not only to be smart, wisened by words of the experiences and the words in books, but to be cultured as well. His mother took him to parties with him on her arm, where his smiles never quite reached his eyes under the coos and remarks of her friends. He talked when spoken to, he never raised his voice. He could be charming when he needed to be, grins and chubby-cheeked, with words uttered that they desperately wanted to hear. He never enjoyed them, especially not when his parents would slip away into back rooms to have their own meetings. He would wait resting under the doorknob, eyes desperately seeking for some revelation under the door’s crack, ears yearning for words through the keyhole. The door would open at midnight, if not later, and he would fall into the room because of how he’d been leaning against the door. On the rainiest of days with no other plans, they would find themselves lost in museums all over the continent ( they had money, and while they didn’t quite flaunt it, they didn’t have qualms about traveling ). Beautiful things never caught his eye. They were nice, sure; but they were idle and dull and fleeting in his mind. Were his mother not guiding him ( in another life, one without bloodlust and bloodshed, she would have been a curator — a stunning one, establishing beautiful collections that many would travel to. alas, this is not our story ), he would have been lost in statues of gore, in paintings of wars and hatred. There was something about them that caught his attention and never let go. Is there beauty in being brutal ? Piero would say so.

004. The Ruiz home was decorated with exorbitant quantities of flowers while Piero lived there with his parents — why wouldn’t it be that way ? Their front for their operations was a massive floral establishment, it was only fitting for their home to be decorated accordingly. As a child, he loved their scent filling the halls and rooms — roses and lilies and all sorts of magnificent blooms. They were pretty and they weren’t long-lasting, but they were always something that represented his family, and he would be remiss to say a part of him wasn’t fond of them. However, from the day his parents died, all he can remember besides their shouts in frantic Spanish is the scent of blood and flowers. Now, any breath of anything floral makes him gag. It’s unfortunate.

005. The first time he held a gun — the first time he did so with meaning, it loaded, intended to be used against another — he was fourteen. He followed behind his mother, into a meeting with a man who owed the Capulets money. She knew he was unlikely to run or cause a fuss ( he had pride and character, his mother told him, and though he had wronged them, only a coward would have fled or refused his fate ) and thought it perfect for Piero’s first attendance. He stood behind his mother, just beside her shoulder, and listened as she talked. He stood on the balls of his feet, eager and ready for his chance to do something — anything. It never came, much to his disappointment. His mother said everything she needed to. She demanded payment. The man refused, citing he couldn’t. His mother nodded, then she fired one shot into the middle of his head. They left quickly after that, someone would be coming to clean up the mess, and the weight of Piero’s gun felt heavy in his hands having gone unfired.

006. He has nightmares. Nobody knows — he refuses to tell anyone for fear of it being seen as weakness or a vulnerability — but surviving two assassination attempts ? It should come as no surprise that it’s affected his psyche. But there are nights, more often than he’d like, that he wakes up, thrashing, sweat-coated legs and arms tangled up in bedsheets, and his heart is beating in frantic panic. It takes a moment for Piero to realize that his life is in no danger ( at least, not at that specific point in time ) and then he lets his head fall back to the pillow. The days after, he finds himself more on edge than normal, dark-circled eyes narrowed and angry.

PINTEREST BOARD

Rambly Bits That Didn’t Fit Anywhere Nicely But Still Provide Notion Of Character And I Didn’t Want To Delete Permanently For Fear Of Regretting That Decision Later

2. His parents were not good people. They never had hope of cleaning the blood off of their hands and fingers, but they never had desire to burn them clean. At his birth, he was blessed by aunts and uncles in hopes he’d have a fraction of his parents’ abilities ��� their cruelty, their decisiveness, their skill with gun and blade. He grew up in a home that never knew weak submission ; it was eat or be eaten, and he learned that quickly. He watched friends of his parents cry for mercy after failures — ones he didn’t understand in the moment, not until years later, when he crept downstairs in the midnight hours to watch their meetings through stair railings — and he watched as they were met with slaps to cheeks and sometimes worse. He was too young to understand the permanence of death, but he understood that a hole in a man’s temple meant he was never getting up. He saw the cool poise his father wore as he held a smoking gun — he imagined himself, older, in the same position. He echoed the steely edges his parents’ voices took ; he repeated the words they said that meant nothing to him until his cadence and tone matched theirs.

3. His parents praised him while he was in school when teachers and tutors reported that he was harsh in the face of sadness or whining and unable to handle the wrong answers of others.  It only worsened ( bettered ? ) as he grew older. His harshness seemed less precocious and began to unsettle others. Tutors and teachers began to dislike being in the same room as him. He wore a smile that said let me do as I please and his temper echoed I mean it. He asked them questions about things they didn’t know, baiting them with their insufficiencies until they had no other option but to quit. His parents would only hire someone new with no question. No one was spared. He asked personal and probing questions until they shifted in their seats. He was like a needle under their skin, sharp and uncomfortable.  )

4. Being a part of something bigger than himself. Isn’t that what a king does — or in Piero’s case, a princeling ? They are a large part of their kingdom, surely, and, though they might be its head, it cannot exist without its body. There needs to be support. When he was young, being a god amongst the other children wasn’t enough. He wanted something more. He wanted to be something more. He knew his parents did something that made them special, and their dis-including him ( for whatever reason it could be, he wondered night after night, staring up at the stucco ceiling, sleepless and agonizing ) just wouldn’t work for him. He needed to be involved, he needed to know. His knowing parts of their secrets, the whispers he overhead, was enough to build up his patience until it came to know more.

5. He has his eyes set on the crown his family once wore ; he was born and bred into a vicious line.

6. It’s a game of chess. Where once he was perhaps a knight or a bishop aside his parents’ queenhood, someone who could advise and assist, he feels now hardly more than a pawn. There are others in charge and he acts in their stead to do their bidding. He knows it’s what he must do. He must build his power back up, but gods above, the wait is agonizing. He wants to feel the rush of adrenaline that power brings surge through him again. He wants to make his own choices and decisions.

7. His peers had it worse. Unlike teachers whose authority he undermined, he knew he was better and above his cohort — a king amongst sheep. He ruled conversations even when no word slipped from his mouth. They needed to entertain him or he’d find another way to spend his time. ( A brief interlude: his “ friends ” didn’t like him but were scared of telling him no — also, they were most likely the children of his parents’ friends and associates, so there was need to make good with Piero. ) He’d pit them against each other with lies and rumors he’d overheard or made up. It was interesting to see them scramble, like ants under a magnifying glass. So long as he was amused, where was the harm ?

[mar-bluu]

How do you reckon Elmer and Buttons would react if Lucy got pregnant? Can just imagine how excited Elmer'd be, calling everyone like "im gonna be a grandad!"

Akdksoske ohmygosh okay!!! (This is gonna be my long, and incomprehensible ramblings, sorry!!)

So! One day Elmer's sitting in the kitchen eating his breakfast when Lucy walks in and just throws up right in front of him. Elmer's like "oh okay that's nice, you do that, yeah right in front of my toast, okay" and Lucy just walks out and leaves him to clean it up. So Elmer finishes up his toast and cleans up Lucy's mess when Buttons walks in. Elmer's like "Lucy threw up just before but i cleaned it up, so be careful, the floor might be wet." And Buttons goes "huh, she threw up yesterday as well." So they're a little concerned but chalk it up to her probably eating grass. The next day, however, when she throws up again, they're like "okay something might be wrong, let's take her to the vet" so they bundle her up in the car and drive down to the vets, Elmer's quietly freaking out because all he can think of is the absolute worst, and Buttons is trying to keep him calm, saying that its probably nothing as he tries to stay calm as well.

They pull up and head inside. As theyre sitting in the waiting room, Lucy throws up again, so the lady at the desk is like "okay, we should probably look at that like, now." So Lucy's brought into a side room and Buttons explains that she's been off her food and vomiting for the last few days. So the vet's like "is she spayed?" And Elmer and Buttons look at each other like "is she??" So they say that they're unsure and the vet's like "okay, well we're gonna do an ultrasound real quick" Lucy's whisked off to the back room for an ultrasound and now, Elmer's f r e a k i n g out. "Buttons, she could've eaten something really bad! What if she's been poisoned? Did we remember to give her her heartworm tablets? Did we check her for ticks!?" And Buttons is trying to stay calm and reassure Elmer, and theyre both too busy worrying about Lucy to notice the vet coming back. She opens the door to the two of them panicking, and just sets Lucy down on the examination table, waiting for Elmer and Buttons to notice. Lucy sits on the table with her tail wrapped around her paws and meows loudly. That gets their attention, and the turn to the table, holding each other's hands nervously. "Well," the vet starts "Lucy's gonna be just fine." Elmer and Buttons share a look of relief. "But," they begin to grow nervous again "you might wanna consider kiddie proofing the house, cause Lucy's gonna be a mama"

The two of them are completely silent, staring open mouthed between the vet and their cat, who stares proudly back. "What?" The vet just nods, giving Lucy a scratch behind her ears. "A mother of seven, actually. Or at least thats how many i can see." Buttons squeals excitedly as Elmer tackles him in a hug "we're gonna be grandparents!!" The vet laughs along before stepping them through the pregnancy process. She walks them to the counter and gives them a card to an all-hours house call vet who can help them if they're worried about or during birth. They thank the vet and bring Lucy home.

The second they got inside Elmer's on the phone to everyone telling them the good news as Buttons lectures Lucy about running off and getting pregnant. Everyone's so happy for them (especially Davey who's a big cat person, though he doesn't often show it and Mush who comes over as soon as possible with extra cat food and bedding) and Buttons and Elmer spend 110% of their attention on Lucy and making sure she's comfortable ("pregnant cats are called queens, Buttons, we should treat her like one!" "She has three beds stacked on top of each other and enough food to last her a life time, i dont think she needs another cat-box" "fine, but we need to get her a "world's best mum" cat bowl!")

Anyway! One morning at about 2:40 am Elmer wakes up to Buttons shaking his shoulder. "It's happening!" "What?" "It's happening!!" "Wha- oh, oh!" He springs out of bed as Buttons dials the emergency vet. Elmer sprints through the house, finding Lucy huddled in a corner, washing her fur. Elmer kept his distance, not wanting to annoy her, as he tried to keep his excitement quiet. Not too long after that the emergency vet arrived, following Buttons into the room. He said there wasnt a lot he can do, as Lucy seemed to be handling it very well, so they sat there and talked about Lucy, if this was her first litter, how well she'd been dealing with the pregnancy etc. They waited there for an hour and a bit, cooing over pictures of the vet's own kittens, before Lucy gave birth to the last of her kittens. The vet monitored Lucy for another half hour or so before heading off, ("make sure to take them to the vets within a week or two for a wellness check") and Elmer and Buttons move in closer for a look at the newest additions to their family. They count the kittens, finding another 2 the vet missed, and excitedly snap pictures and send them to their friends. As they continue to melt over the kittens, they notice that while a lot of them have the same black and white colourings of their mother, a few of them were a pretty orange, that looked suspiciously like the ginger cat who lived down the street. Buttons made a mental note to have a stern talking to with him the next time they saw him.

Already Elmer's thinking of names for the kitties, sending options to the groupchat (only Race is awake and his suggestions include Professor Cheeseball and Sir Meatball Daggertooth, which he reads out to Lucy who doesn't look too pleased with them) Buttons had already picked a name for one, Tigger, which they settled on giving to the biggest ginger fluffball. They settled on Gizmo for the kitty that looked like a little clone of his mum, then waited for the others to wake up and help (Race is officially banned from naming anything after suggesting Moldy Stink Rat) Elmer and Buttons sat on the couch and watched Lucy with her new babies, wrapped in each others arms, as they fall asleep listening to Lucy meow softly to her kittens.

After about three months, the kittens were all named (Tigger, Gizmo, Oreo, Luna, Willow, Sunny, Marmalade, Cedar, and after lots and lots and lots of pestering from his human counterpart, the last one was named Jack) and had their appropriate vet work done. Davey appointed himself as godfather and was over any time he could ("where are my babies? I want to see my babies!" *scoops up Gizmo* "And how's mama Lucy going?") Mush and Blink would come and visit them frequently too, always bringing little toys and things for the kittens to play with. Cedar had taken a real shine to Mush and Blink, and would always go running towards them whenever he heard their voices. (Elmer and Buttons had a feeling of who they wanted to give Cedar to when the time came) Jack couldn't come over as frequently as the others but would constantly text Elmer and Buttons for updates on Cat-Jack, and had a picture of his kitty twin in his wallet and would show it off proudly to anyone who asked.

Unfortunately come month 4, Buttons and Elmer had to make the tough decision of giving away their precious babies. Lucy was just as upset as the two of them, but they couldn't keep looking after all of them, they'd already lost a pair of shoes, two pillows and several cups and glasses. So they needed to make sure the kitties went to the best of homes. Naturally Davey offered to take two (Oreo and Marmalade), Katherine took Willow, Barney adopted Luna, and Albert got Sunny. Elmer and Buttons asked Blink and Mush if they wanted to take Cedar, but they were slightly hesitant as they didnt want him to be overwhelmed by all the other animals (though they seriously had to restrain themselves from accepting right away) So Elmer and Buttons held onto him (tho they had a feeling that in a month or so he'd be living on the farm) Jack obviously adopted mini him, and Gizmo and Tigger stayed with Buttons and Elmer

Every month or so, they would all organize a meet up together, usually at Buttons' and Elmer's house so Lucy could see her babies again, and have kitty hangouts. Lucy, Elmer and Buttons miss the other kittens a lot, but they're happy knowing that they're with good families and good homes :)

Also Lucy definitely got spayed after bc they couldn't deal w the heartbreak of giving away kittens again, and also to help keep kitties off the streets, and the cat from down the road got a very stern talking to

[dogcollar101]

How To Keep Your Dog From Running Away Plus How to Build a Very Cosy (Free) Pet Bed

How a large four orders rescue lives

As stated by the National Health Service and press accounts, over 4,500 events per year from the U.K. have people and dogs, together with kids being the most significant prey category. . You might be more inclined to be intimidated by your dog compared to win the lottery!

1 episode is an undesirable statistic but and soon you accept your dog runs off as you let these events will keep that occurs. There are 5 fundamental actions, 4 significant controls and 3 key devices that you want to find out to utilize effortlessly to acquire control and also to build subject in your own dog. This informative article explains the way to achieve so and just how to avoid your dog working out. A collar and guide will work tools of hands, only exactly the like holding your little one's hand. Mobile phones are just another security apparatus we utilize together with your kids to maintain touch as well as for a far safer and more secure atmosphere. Our dogs really are not as crucial and therefore so are at a greater statistical risk compared to our kiddies. Your voice is not likely to be enough. Whistling is hardwork plus it presumes your pet discovers the whistle stronger than that which exactly are at the close of your own nose. You have to begin to comprehend that quitting your dog working out is an ability to be learned and developed an ongoing basis, and such as people, the enter of patience and love, will likely be repaid. The odds is that in case your young ones are version kiddies your pet probably will soon likely be too, but it does not mean it's certainly likely to be simple to coach, it merely means you almost certainly have the disposition and determination to continue to keep your pet secure and disciplined. I admit this guide could be a little contentious however, also the processes work and won't harm or hurt your own dog. Neglect and ignorance can be really just actually a far larger killer. If You Would like to prevent your puppy working out you will find just 3 points that your needs to attain:

Instant response Your puppy's entire and undivided focus Complete obedience You Want to Know There Are 3 Good Reasons why your puppy will run off:-

Sex Cruelty Owner Mis-management Each one reason as mentioned previously could possibly get your pet murdered or badly hurt. In the event that you overlay insufficient success with the 3 most disciplinary aspects you've got serious problems to address and also you also want to improve this fast or risk your own furry friend resulting in death or critical injury. The final result is going to be losing of one's furry friend by lethal injection, gun shot or deadly accidents. If minors are included and they truly have been your family it'll destroy not just your own life but that of one's whole family. This is the way I view it any way and it's that inspires me to receive it directly. Your furry friend running is perhaps never to be dismissed. I propose to test some simple helpful tips which may make your daily life simpler and boost your own association with the creature at a degree you can appreciate and focus onto good impact. I will discount the initial two reasons which cause conducting a way. For those who require guidance to manage them give your puppy to some loving household, this guide isn't for youpersonally. Your dog exists with perceptions that once participated are so compelling you light in to insignificance when they have been participated. That you never have to be your dog whisperer to appreciate that, however you can watch it to the moment you call back your dog. It's maybe perhaps not just a fantastic moment as soon as your pet embarrasses you for the inability to handle it. I do believe a year at your dog's lifetime is all about 6.5 of years, thus by the end of year your pet ought to be needs to makeout noises, short sentence words and structures. The four main orders in sequence are:

Sit cure down remain Dogs really are quick learners. Not merely do they understand your disposition, but they just take every thing directly into the border constantly and they're also quite persistent. The earlier you get started teaching them the greater, attempt to create it interesting without even completing with a dog. Remember that your kiddies really must not be forcefed with a sizable McDonalds everytime that they obtain their dining table ways and The National Hedgehog Road Skills award hasn't been obtained by way of a hedgehog. A direct result could be the same of one's kid's hand. You speak through it precisely the exact identical manner. You wouldn't permit your son or daughter pull you off the feet, notably on a major road, therefore utilize exactly the exact identical area with your own dog.

Step 1 ). It's obviously your fault

I truly do not feel that Springer Spaniels using their pesky ears may hear you precisely over 30 metres off until you shout which causes you to try looking in hands does it not. Once I was younger I had a liver and white springer'Bramble'. He knew for the afternoon exactly what struck him if he had been busy rounding up sheep. I'd have managed to play with to that British Lions using a French handle similar to that, canine went flying, perhaps maybe not at the least little hurt, only caught in the action. He yelped only with fright, but not chased sheep and now episode if he can hear me he reacted immediately to all of the Big-4 orders.

Step Two. How to avoid the dog pulling off the feet.

A sharp and incredibly hard yank the guide yanking back your dog supporting you'll do just fine. Subsequent to the 2nd or next period they'll desist. That is always easier to complete if your St. Bernard can be still a puppy, that explains the reason why I say start instantly. Bad habits are manufactured by the owners not the dogs. Never permit your puppy to tug. Start by holding your pet's hands (the guide ) and work ardently in a disciplined as well as at a reasonable way, and also reward good performance and subject and also focus with behavior that falls short. Little and often is equally good and also a regular is effective. The item that actually gets results will be patience. You wouldn't simply take out your child to some deflecting environment to show them don't get it done to your own dog . Get your pet's care and eye contact and advancement can improve. If you're experiencing trouble getting your pet's care boost the deal value e.g. noodle beef. That really is all about hearts and thoughts and growing absolute confidence. Enough opportunity to utilize treats reaches the start of teaching that the control. Once your dog knows what's demanded of this, a tap on the mind and some reassuring words is adequate.

Step 3. The Way to slow down your dog to a pace

Just how a lot of you really wouldn't hang on tight to a own 6 year-old child's hands at the city center? Would you anticipate that your six year old to speak fluent Russian? No, therefore do not expect your pet to comprehend what sounds exactly the exact same in their mind. Make use of the guide to construct confidence and a great deal of patience. By the time that your dog is just six months old they'll soon be getting more biddable, more interested and much more ascertained but up into this first season you may not be confident. But you're desperate to provide your pet the liberty of this encounter about. A match keeper educated me an excellent strategy called hobbling. Your puppy's collar must allow one to receive three hands under it, even in the event that you cannot it really is overly tight. Simply stick with your puppy's front paw throughout the crate, it appears barbarous, its not and you're able to grab your pet dog on three legs, so it places the odds in your favor, and that means that you finally have the chance to teach your pet to stay near for you, or obtain it back . Do not make work with of a retractable guide it motivates your pet to tug off. Dogs retractable leads aren't correctly trained (this type of statement might be tremendously contentious however I might assume that those owners wont be reading this kind of article therefore that there will not be anybody to violate!)

Step 4. Period - how much time does it take to teach my dog? I presume 300 hours has a fundamental occupation done until your puppy will pertain in to state saving, field sports, or even societal human activities such as military or police work. It will take a fantastic year to repay and train your pet dog. If you receive the Big-4 orders in fast and the dog will begin to execute well however it is going to require no less than annually so have patience and persist. Exercise all of the period - practice makes perfect. ( in addition, it can help you shed weight!) . I finally have a black and white Springer Spaniel and that she had been dreadful for conducting off. This really was my fault. On shadowy evenings I just had to become distracted for a moment and also your dog has been gone. That I am at the dark and pouring rain, then yelling off my head and also canine is at the following county. Twenty anxious minutes after I obtain yourself a chunk of sand straight back! Never be cross legged with a husband, it really is after the fact and so they can misinterpret you, resulting in trauma and confusion. Only get a note yourself to prepare an exercise session at a restricted environment to repair the issue whilst kicking your bottom and perhaps maybe not the dogs!

Step 5. The Way to prevent your puppy working out

You may spend countless hours dealing together with these, you teach the 4 commands so when they're more than 6 weeks and really know the controls then you've got to create subject to endure or face the potential for an unthinkable episode. I've tried whistles, going after her and only leaving her, not one that can be just displays canine to threat. When I can not restrain your dog in both long and short stove she's unworthy from the field besides just a pet. How do I prevent my furry friend out of working out. A match keeper indicated that an electrical collar. I dismissed it out of hand to be unkind, however it's maybe perhaps not quite as unkind as watching your furry friend in misery trapped to some wheel. I opted to try out an electric collar resolved to become fair and kind. It's transformed canine with no cruelty whatsoever which is the way it works: First and just after six weeks , and just when the Big-4 orders come inplace can you utilize . My collar includes an audible alert that canine can hear much when she can not hear or see . She immediately learned to react for the bleep, this means just 1 item'Heal'. Ever since crazy life has got really hearing and fantastic vision toowe expect to find plenty of it if we have been outside today because we're silent, your dog is in order in any way times and especially is safe. Your puppy and notably Springer Spaniels would require to complete as you ask. You ought to be there during the right time of any episode that requires care or arresting and also a bleeper is in fact on the area as well as instant. If your dog does not respond you can find 8 preferences to'tweak your dog's ear', establishing to and including shock. Most these are much milder than demanding handling or hitting dog. They all hurt a whole good deal less than influence with the HGV. I have to stress that in the event you never possess the enormous four orders inplace and also a certain dog you shouldn't deploy this kind of tool, keep your pet on the lead. The collar is simply for the pet's control and protection and also the fee, that will be roughly exactly the same like a static shock in the door handle, doesn't lead to canine much disquiet, however it enables her know I need her care when everyone fails that will be pretty rare nowadays. I actually don't understand how a shepherds get it done however they will have my admiration. I actually don't want my pet to attain such levels. We've got a lot of fun together and that she loves my 2 girls, actually she loves everybody else including the postman! I believe patience would be your trick and after that it's an issue of time. . She has a distinctive settee inside our backyard (but not presumes that directly from your house), and also your dog house made from straw bales she loves since it's quite warm. She knows where the border is, also pushes it like mad, but she's secure and well behaved and in order in any way times because she can hear and each single day that goes with her understanding of speech and also excruciating procedure improves. I believe I shall always utilize an electrical collar today, it's a security device that makes me less nervous concerning your dog's behavior because I will concentrate on enlarging canine's understanding of orders, therefore her behavior continues to enhance and she plays with an even bigger plus a great deal more fulfilling role in day today tasks. In the event you never want your dog to conduct off access to grips with all your collar, guide, instruction, rewarding and subject and also be learned - the ideal method to try this gently is by using a bleeping collar - it works. I feel these new apparatus are your dog identical to a two way radio. No soldier goes into combat with no. I do believe that they truly have been here in order to stay and used sensibly will completely change your own life and also make teaching your pet a true joy with much less worry. Remember it's the finger over the button and you also choose whether you're a dog trainer or perhaps your pet dog re - I know that I am.

How much time does it have to instruct your pet the 4 Commands?

It requires approximately 20 minutes equipped with some very'must have' treats, then repeat the practice per time or so after for a couple seconds until you view it work instantly. I utilize mackerel fillets but whatever aside from chocolate is going to do just fine. For each and each single minute of practice you want one hour or so of training to find the control working consistently after which four or three times more to buy them working together. You'll cover gaps on your regular and also you also are going to certainly be in a position to see if the others have managed your own dog. Dogs will continually push to the limit to learn what they are able to eliminate and that means you've got to become that limitation and also you also can't do this by being fine and feeding canine treats. Never violate your pet by cruelty and bullying to find the claw you need, a busted dog doesn't get the job done precisely and whoever has trained your dog will put a broken dog off a mile, you can not hide it and also you also can not mend the hurt.

A control ought to really be instant, it's futile if it's not and can allow you to get personally, your kids, canine or any poor unsuspecting driver in to an unthinkable position, it's well worth the hard work.

Should you allow your dog on the settee - Training Versus Behaviour?

Oh boy is that a popular potato! Primarily your pet understands the gap between your scruffy sofa in the play room and the main one from the family area however, you might need to work longer on the practice. It's possible to let your pet perform whatever you want provided you put your time and campaign in together with the bottom rules, but here's just a very easy guide.

Your puppy contains just two standard adjustments, you to frighten and the alternative is more lively. Figure out what they are and exactly what exactly they mean. In the event you never desire a yappy dog you'll find the opportunity in approximately ten weeks to sort out it.

Do not permit your pet to act in a means that will be offensive to the others, I am certain that you never require an inventory from me personally.

You are able to make work with of a slap, a business voice or push orders as long because it's instantaneous. If your furry friend is outside reach that you'll have to be very quick (run and voice ) or utilize an electric collar. A sharp jolt beats a struggle or injury. If that really can be administered at the onset of action canine is not likely to replicate the offence. You wont violate canine doing so. Prolonged aggression or ferocious punishment fills your furry friend with dread. I've discovered them begin to yelp in front of a blow has been struck because they understand what's coming. Can you really do your own job knowing some one is all going to offer a good hanging? Neither can the dog. Never have I seen a broken dog which did not attract a lump into my neck and also have me scratching my lip to keep the tears back. Much like canine I suffer silently alone incapable to speak.

Being a Fantastic puppy owner and handler

Awful behavior develops as a consequence of not enough effort or selfishness by the proprietor. Just like your kids the longer patience and time spent together with them and effort that you put in to your own dog, the greater reward you may get with a powerful step of loyalty reimbursed. Like kids that they are going to grab injury between adults and also they don't really enjoy it. Neglect is going to bring about canine making its own rules and you are going to require your dog psychologist to intervene. Unless your pet is ill and needing 24 hour oversight, I would recommend that they should possess their very own special location. A kennel is ordinarily the very most useful so that they are able to get peace and to flake out and dry/chill outside and become . You'll not ordinarily possess your kiddies in bed with you, therefore I believe that it's somewhat strange to own your pets too. Deficiency of good sense is the thing that develops poor creature behavior. Lots of exercise, fantastic diet, subject, regular, attention and care will continue to work with the furry friend.

In conclusion, the 3 fundamental parts of equipment certainly are an outcome, a collar along with an audible apparatus which can be discovered anywhere immediately by means of your puppy which up on being discovered remembers your furry friend to a own side. . If a step of force will be required then this apparatus ought to be able to manage it or be supported it up.

How to Make a comfy dog mattress at no cost - well practically

I Believe a Excellent mattress creates a very Satisfied puppy, especially if they possess a Complete tummy

Being an engineer, specialising in materials storage and handling, as it regards a mattress for your dog I desired to generate a comfy spot for her to bed. For many weeks I persevered with puppy cushions but they simply become dirty and aren't too simple to wash or hot to sleep outdoors. In the winter this season we had two feet of snowwhich canine adored nonetheless it had been cold on her behalf and I wanted some thing .

Pallets tend to be equipment you are able to grab at no cost. Three or two are quite straightforward to convert to a bed. 1000mm x 1200mm is also an ideal size. When you experience an out house, shed or garage they'll fit easily indoors. It is irrelevant whether your dog chews them, the timber may be recycled or used for firewood of course if you make use of straw, the straw might be properly used or burnt. This alternative is not for everyone however the puppy will adore it and also you also will grow to appreciate it and this is the reason:

The straw helps you wash canine The dog may scratch and arrange that the straw since it needs The pallet and a couple of straw bales produce an extremely cozy den Filled with straw your pet can reside outside in all weathers Living out is best for canine Dogs can grow their natural seasonal jackets in accord with this climate. In they move to a country of lasting moulting, outside un-heated they are able to live longer naturally. The straw is comfy and hot annually round particularly with the extra security of 380mm into 450mm of insulating material on either side The pallet keeps your puppy away from the cold floor - crucial. Straw bales include #1.75 to 3.50 Prior to going in to blind fear of scabies or mange, I have not ever had any problem. However, if you're involved ask your veterinarian, I believe that you may realize that the contemporary treatments keep them anyway. Do be careful for cardboard and claws (stapled on). Plywood makes good shirts if the timber is a little rough after which your heavy straw does the remainder.

My pet wants her duvet mattress and can be quite satisfied to have to it and I rarely watch that her little dark nose encounter across the boundary of this bale until I predict on her behalf.

There's a great deal of crap talked about training and maybe perhaps not much help with the true control commands once they don't really get the job done. Much of that time period it's simply impossible to intercept behavioral and mistakes dysfunction with time to improve it you might say that the pet could very easily grasp the condition. This only makes it harder for both you and your puppy

I'm a stuff management engineer by profession, and also an enthusiastic motorcyclist that I use to get work the majority of the yearround. Even the BMW GS 1200 Adventure can be actually just really a trying and awesome system, therefore if you're in trade or industry and would like to develop or produce a brand new warehouse or production unit, then please go and see my site.

I've experienced spaniels all my own life, having grown up using them. I've always found it tough to get assistance with the very tricky pieces of training. I like to coach the basic principles and build my relationship with my dog and now I love to watch her employed in the area doing exactly what she does best and getting her to keep coming straight back again to me personally at a systematic manner and never through the county. I typically ship your pet to get a season having a keeper to empathize, it is somewhat like doing a ski season to get your own dog.

[hobby-board-gaming-101]

Introduction to Board Games

alIf you’ve just learned that a friend is into “board games” and you’re trying to figure out if that means they play Monopoly every day, this is the post to start at.

There’s really no better introduction that this video, by Shut Up and Sit Down, a group that reviews board games. The auto-generated captions are all right, but I’ve also transcribed the video below the cut.

Now that you’ve watched that video, you should understand why some people play board games. Do you want to maybe be one of them? If so, keep reading this post.

Here’s another way to explain what hobby board gaming is like (credit to Reddit user Russell_Ruffino): an analogy to beer. The board games everyone’s heard of, like Monopoly, Clue (a.k.a. Cluedo), Sorry!, and Uno, are like those mass-produced lagers you can buy in the supermarket. But “if someone … had only ever tried mass produced lagers bought from supermarkets,” they’d be “missing out on a whole world … [of] craft beers that you sometimes have to buy straight from the brewery.” Like craft beer fanatics, board gamers have lots of games we love that you’ve probably never heard of.

I love this analogy even though I know nothing about beer because it can be extended to lots of subtleties. Those supermarket lager games are called “mass-market games,” because they’re advertised to a wide audience and lots of people know about them. The craft beer games, meanwhile, are called “hobby,” “designer” (because the designer is listed on the box, like a book author or movie director), or “modern” (because most though not all were designed after The Settlers of Catan in 1996) board games. These designer games “can be an acquired taste, [and] there’s nothing wrong with someone just drinking the supermarket lagers, but once you've started getting into the limited run stuff it’s hard to go back to only drinking the lager.” (Here’s an article that goes in-depth on the differences between these two categories of games.)

Now, I don’t know if you’re interested in maybe becoming a real serious hobby board gamer, or if you just want to play good games more casually. If you think the latter is the case, check out Casual Game Revolution. This article gives a very good overview of what they think casual gaming is, or if you want a shorter read, try their about page. Their website will be a wonderful resource for you if you want to be a casual gamer, and my blog might be a bit unnecessarily esoteric. But if you don’t want all your games to be “relatively quick games that are easy to learn and teach” and want more than “light strategy,” Casual Game Revolution might be a little limiting for you. You are my target audience for this blog.

(I tried to write that a couple different ways and I feel like it still might sound a little condescending towards casual gamers. I promise that was not my intention, and casual gaming is amazing.)

I think that’s just about all I need by way of introduction to this blog. I would strongly suggest using the table of contents linked at the top of the site (next to my About page) to get around. Welcome!

Transcript of Shut Up and Sit Down’s video below the cut:

Oh, hi there. So, you’re here because a friend or significant other or colleague, a member of your family, church, or dogging community has told you they’re into board games: they’re a board gamer. And that’s got to make you nervous because surely anybody will be done with Monopoly and Snakes and Ladders after being a kid.

What if I were to tell you a secret: that these days, board games and card games are actually amazing. And you're going to find that hard to believe because you’ve got three preconceptions starting with this one: aren’t there like, six board games? There’s Risk, there’s Monopoly, there’s KerPlunk, Connect Four, and the one where the mustard man kills people with a fire poker. No! Actually, new board games come out every single week from countries as far-flung as Germany Japan, and yeah, America and the UK, and some of these board games are for families, some are rubbish, but lots aren’t. In fact, lots are absolutely fantastic!

Let’s look a preconception number two which is the board games are BORING! And actually, they’re just not. Let’s look at a game that came out just a few months ago, alright, this is Ladies and Gentlemen: a French game; a team game where half the players play baffled Victorian gentleman trying to make money at a pretend kiddie stock market, in real time, and the other half of the table play their wives, trying to use that money to assemble the best outfit. It even has additional rules for “maid’s gossip,” and a player who is a single lady! Now, see, this this game might sound mad to you. It might sound like a cross between bridge and OK Magazine, but it probably doesn’t sound boring. And that’s the truth of it, alright, the fact is that the table, as a medium, can be used for anything. You just pick the board games out there that entertain you! Let’s not forget that poker is a board/card/table game type thing, and no one would say that’s boring!

Which brings us on to point number three: board games are for kids. And they’re just not! Labyrinth: The War on Terror is a simulation where one person runs the American War on Terror as of 2001, and another plays militant Islamic fundamentalist movements. Probably not for kids… unless you’re actually Dick Cheney. K2 is a very simple, incredibly competitive game about racing to the top of K2, a.k.a. Savage Mountain, a.k.a. the mountain with the highest fatality to summit rate in the world. A game where, when I lost a mountaineer who froze to death in his tent in a blizzard, I felt like crying. And I'm 26! Probably not for kids (unless your kids are tougher than me, which wouldn’t be hard, to be honest). Archipelago is a game where players are European colonists trying to scratch out a profit from a South Pacific island chain; simultaneously working alone to develop the island, and working together to make sure they’re not killed in a violent uprising. Probably not for kids… unless you’re actually Queen Victoria (which I really hope you’re not… ‘cause that would be… weird).

Very quickly, board games start to look like a much more reasonable thing to do with your time. Whether you’re invested in heavy, chess-like strategy that’ll let you best your friends; whether you want to have fun without drinking; or whether you want to have much more fun while drinking, there is a game out there for everybody, and that includes you. Here are a couple of pretty much perfect games that you could probably have an incredible time with no matter who you are:

The Resistance is a game that pitches you and your friends as an underground resistance cell, with no taking turns, no dice, not even a board. You and your friends just have to decide which of you will go on missions, with the twist that secretly around the table is a team of spies. The spies know who one another are, but the good guys don’t know who anybody is. And as teams start coming back with the news that someone anonymously sabotaged the plan, you’ll start distrusting your closest friends. It’s just 45 minutes of your friends accusing, lying, theorizing, I trust him I don’t trust her, sometimes getting little powers like one player must show one other player what side they’re on, until the end one team wins or loses, and all hell breaks loose as you find out your girlfriend was lying to your face the whole time. Or did I get you wrong? Maybe your idea of a good time isn’t lying to your friends faces; maybe you're not the confrontational type. In which case, say hello to Tales of the Arabian Nights. [Middle Eastern musical chord.] Tales of the Arabian Nights is a storytelling game, where you and your… this is probably racist, isn’t it? Where you and your friends will just be telling stories together. Do remember those Choose Your Own Adventure books you had as a kid? This is like the mother of all of those. Using an incredibly clever system of cards, and this ludicrous book, and matrixes, you will have… [Reference Pear falls off table and thuds]. You will have stories which are different every single time, from rescuing princess, to being lost and befuddled by genies in the European seas, to fighting to- getting your way out of problems with luck and guile. You have no idea what’s going to happen when you start Arabian Nights, but you and your friends will have an unbelievable time, just, telling stories together. And yeah, while it’s possible to win… that doesn’t matter, like so many board games these days.

[Quinns] Ahhhh… [to wife] I don’t think it’s coming out! [Wife] A little dab of olive oil on a cotton ball will help. [Quinns] Ol- Olive oil? What is wrong with women! [this is actually funny and not just weird in the video, trust me]

As a kicker, in an age where books, movies, video games — where ownership is becoming digital — board games give us something real to play with: something you can just hold, and collect. Because to be honest, holding a hand of cards feels, just, really good.

This is the scene your friend is part of. It’s big, it’s beautiful, and it’s growing! Sales have been going up for the last ten years. Now, because board gamers are generally a pretty awesome lot, if you’re at all interested in this stuff, you should definitely talk to your friend about getting involved in a game. Alternatively you could visit our site, Shut Up and Sit Down, for news, videos, reviews, and plenty of footage of grown men dressed as wizards… for some reason. What’s wrong with us? Uh… BYEEEEE!!! [outro music]

[christinky]

Broadway Show.

Pairing: Tony Stark X Reader

Request: I was wondering if you could do a tony x reader were the reader is on broadway/in a musical. Tony goes to say said musical or gets dragged to it by peter and the minutes he sees reader step on stage and he sees her act.

Summary: You are an actress/singer in a broadway musical, Tony wins tickets for charity and takes Peter along. Immediately taking his attention the moment you walk on stage.

Tony doesn’t know how it exactly happened. He was at a charity event a few weeks ago and had so much to drink he participated in the silent auction to win broadway tickets. He has no interest in the musical but he feels the need to go out of obligation. 

He received two tickets so he decides to being Peter along with him. Peter has never been to broadway so he thought why not. 

“Thank you so much Mr. Stark” Peter says for probably the hundredth time, “Seriously, this is so cool.” Peter’s eyes are wide in amazement by how beautiful the theater is.

“Don’t mention it kid,” Tony pats him on his shoulder, “I think our seats are this way” He gestures to the front, closer to the stage. The boys have 2nd row seats, this is the opening night for the musical. Due to the fact that he is Tony Stark and he is at the show, the directors gave him tickets to the after party to celebrate.They both sit and wait for the show to begin.

Your nerves are starting to get to you, the curtain rises in 10 minutes. Before a performance you are always a little nervous, but can handle it in a calm, cool, and collected way. The fact that it is opening night does not help, and the fact that the Tony Stark will be watching does not help. 

You take deep breaths, focusing on you lines, getting ready for your opening number. Knowing you cannot afford to mess up helps you stay focused. “(Y/N), you ready?” The director comes around the corner.

Nodding to him, he smiles and gives you a thumbs up. He is too busy running around making sure everything is in place to say anything else. 

Its showtime. The curtain starts to rise, you don’t go on for a few more minutes so you wait off stage. You look out to the audience, you can only see the first few rows, and thats pretty hard to see. However, you manage to see Tony Stark, who looks like he is about to dose off already. You roll your eyes thinking about how that seat is wasted since he can't enjoy the theater. 

Finally, its your time to make an impression. Walking on the stage, you capture everyone’s attention wearing a stunning black dress that fit you perfectly, however it was very classy. You only have a few lines before the opening number starts, which you are the lead of. 

Not being able to notice, Tony instantly is drawn in by you. His eyes are glued to you, mesmerized by your beauty. Once you start singing his jaw drops. “Wow” he says under his breath as he sits up straight. 

At the end of the first act you go to walk off stage, you keep your head straight but you look out of the corner of your eye to see Tony. Who is now focused and paying attention to the performance. A cocky smile appears on your face, you can see him staring at you as you exit the stage. 

The following acts go perfectly. No one misses a beat and nails every note. The entire cast meets on stage to take a final bow, everyone gives a standing ovation. As you rise, your eyes meet Tony’s for a brief moment before you look away. 

At the after party, everyone makes their way to you to compliment your performance. It is flattering, you are a lot more calm now that the first performance is over. You are able to enjoy the rest of your night without any stress. You mingle with the rest of your co-stars, getting drinks, talking with some critiques and other broadway producers. 

That’s when Tony walks in, the first thing he does is search for you, “There she is Mr. Stark” Peter points over to where you are talking, not being able to see them. 

Tony looks at the boy in surprise, “Where who is?” 

“That actress, its pretty obvious sir,” Peter laughs, “You were making googley eyes at her the entire show.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony lightly pushes Peter’s head, "Isn’t there a kiddy room I can dump you in?”

Tony and Peter start to make their way towards you. They politely wait for you to finish talking, “Well hello, miss...”

“(Y/L/N)” you finish his sentence.

“Ah, yes Miss (Y/L/N), you were just wonderful tonight. absolutely magical.” Tony praises you, causing you to blush. 

“Why thank you Mr. Stark,” You hide the sudden rush that comes over you from talking to him, “I’m glad you enjoyed the performance.” 

“How about I get you a drink?” He offers, you simply hold your hand so he can see that there is already a glass of champaign in it. He seems stunned at his mishap, obviously stumbling on his words.

A slight chuckle escapes, the fact that he can’t think of the right words entertains you.  You see your director is waving you over to talk with him and a group of people, “I’m sorry Mr. Stark, it looks like I am needed over there.” Tilting your head, you wave with a smile, “Thank you so much though.”

You are a little disappointed that you have to be pulled away from the conversation. Still curious of what would have happened, its a night think to imagine. 

“Ooh, nice try though” Peter backs away from Tony, just in case he has a negative reaction. 

“I’m not letting her get away that easily.” Tony says, a smile curling at the corner of his lips as he watches you walk away.

The following night, you are in your dressing room preparing for the show. A knock comes from the door, “Come in” you shout as you turn your chair to face the door. 

“Here you are (Y/N),” A stage hand walks in with a stunning bouquet of flowers, setting them on a table by the door. The stagehand closes the door as he exits. Confused, you stand to walk over to the flowers, finding a card attached. Opening the card, it reads: “I loved your performance so much I have to see it again. I’ll be in the same seat again tonight. Here is my number (555) 555-1234, if you are ever free let me know. I’d love to take you out.  -Tony Stark”

The card brings a smile to your face. Butterflies appear in your stomach, thinking about how to respond. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a what if scenario after all. There is still a half hour until showtime, you go to grab your phone. You go to create a message and type in the number from the card. You start typing your message, “Thank you for the beautiful flowers. I’m busy most nights with the show, but I do love a nice brunch...” You quickly press send before you can have any second thoughts. You take a deep breath, thinking if you should have sent that text, especially right before you go on, you might not be able to focus as clearly now.

Your phone lights up, its a message from Tony, “That sounds wonderful, how about Thursday? I can pick you up at 11.” A wave of relief flows over you as you sigh, there was not reason to stress after all. Now you have a date with Tony Stark, you bite your lips in anticipation. Coming to your senses, you stop daydreaming and focus on the show, which now starts in 20 minutes. Tony is in the audience after all, you can’t mess this up.

Foerever tags: @saturn-aka-six