#I know about the Temple of Time thing for sure
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C&L Airways || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Summary: inspired by that scene in 50 shades of grey when Christian casually says he bought an airline lol
Warnings: just some rare fluff đ„°
Word count: 986
MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)
The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of the kitchen, casting a warm glow over the spacious room. The soft hum of the tv playing, accompanied by the occasional clink of plates and utensils as breakfast was underway. You stood at the counter, a damp towel in hand as you carefully wiped down Madeleineâs small fingers after sheâd managed to smear blueberry puree across her cheeks.
Rafe stood across from you, leaning against the marble counter with a cup of coffee in hand. He was shirtless, his toned chest and defined arms on full display, the golden hue of his skin catching the morning light. His other arm was casually crossed over his chest, his expression relaxed but sharp, the way it always was.
Leo sat at the breakfast bar beside Madeleine, swinging his little legs as he dug into his scrambled eggs and toast. Occasionally, he glanced up at his baby sister, giggling when she babbled nonsensical sounds in response. Madeleine, perched in her high chair, was busy waving her tiny hands in the air, her soft blonde curls bouncing with every movement.
You brushed a stray hair from your face, glancing over your shoulder at Rafe. âDo you want to go shopping with the kids and I later?â you asked, your voice casual as you worked on Madeleineâs stubborn curls. Rafe took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on you. âSure,â he replied, his tone low and easy.
You looked at him, a little amused. âWhen was the last time you went shopping, though?â Rafeâs lips quirked into a slight smirk. âHouston, last week.â That caught your attention. Straightening, you turned to face him, an eyebrow arched. âHouston? What did you buy there?â
His smirk deepened, and he took another sip of his coffee, drawing out the moment just long enough to intrigue you. âAn airline,â he said casually, as if he were talking about buying a pair of socks. You froze, blinking at him in disbelief. âYou bought a what?â âAn airline,â Rafe repeated, his tone nonchalant.
He placed his coffee mug down on the counter, crossing his arms fully now as he watched your reaction with clear amusement. You let out a breathless laugh, your hand resting on the back of Madeleineâs high chair for support. âYouâre joking.â âIâm not,â he said with a chuckle. âThoughts on C&L Airways?â
You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around what heâd just said. âAs in Cameron and Loughrey?â âYeah.â He shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. âThought it had a nice ring to it.â Your gaze darted between him and the kids, who were entirely oblivious to the weight of what their father had just casually announced.
âYou literally just bought another yacht and business jet like⊠last month,â you said, fixing Rafe with an incredulous stare as you adjusted Madeleineâs bib. âYeah,â Rafe shrugged, utterly unbothered. âThatâs for the kids.â You paused mid-wipe, turning to him with an incredulous laugh. âA yacht and a private jet, Rafe. For the kids? You know theyâre still in booster seats, right?â
âItâs an investment,â he said, raising his coffee cup to his lips, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Shaking your head, you placed the cloth down and gave him an exasperated look. âRafe, you donât just buy an airline.â âSure you do,â he replied smoothly, his smirk growing. âWhen the opportunityâs right.â
You placed your hands on your hips, shaking your head as a small smile tugged at your lips. âYouâre unbelievable.â âAnd you love it,â he teased, his voice dropping slightly. You rolled your eyes, though you couldnât suppress the small laugh that escaped. Rafe chuckled, pushing off the counter and walking over to you.
His hand brushed your waist as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before he turned his attention to Madeleine, who squealed with delight at his proximity. âWell,â you said, still a little dazed. âI guess Iâll have to add âflying on our own airlineâ to my to-do list.â âSounds like a plan,â Rafe murmured, his voice laced with amusement.
He glanced at Leo, who was grinning at him with toast crumbs on his face. âWhat do you think, buddy? Want to fly on C&L one day?â Leo nodded enthusiastically. âCan I fly the plane, Daddy?â Rafe laughed, ruffling his sonâs hair. âMaybe one day.â You watched the interaction, your heart softening despite your earlier shock.
As much as Rafe could drive you crazy with his larger-than-life decisions, moments like these reminded you why youâd grown to love himâhis undeniable charm, his devotion to the kids, and the way he always kept you on your toes.
#rafe cameron x fem!reader forced marriage au#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x you#drew starkey x reader#obx fanfiction#outer banks#drew starkey#drew starkey x y/n#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron obx#obx x reader#obx rafe cameron#outer banks x you#outerbanks rafe#outerbanks fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfic#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey x you#drew starkey fic
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Game Movie Night
lowkey.. based on this twt link .... it had to be done i fear
wc: 1406
cw: leon and reader are perpetually horny, lil tit gropping, dry humping, lil overstimulation, cum-stained clothes (gross)
enjoy?
Movie night never just ends when the movie does, no matter how much you and Leon say it will.
Cuddled up with a bowl of popcorn and other various snacks and your drink of choice, you two get through the first two movies with little to no interruption. But sitting still so close has never been a good idea for you two. The same couple who could barely keep from sucking each otherâs faces off after only being apart for 2 hours.
It starts with an innocent kiss against your temple from Leon, his hand on your waist drifting to your hip and then just a bit lower, your hand suddenly resting comfortably on his thigh. It starts off innocent, yet it never stays that way for long.
Youâre halfway through the third movie when you feel Leonâs thigh shift beneath your hand. Itâs a sudden shift forward so he can lean back, that ends with your hand just shy of the.. tent in his pants. Well that wasnât there before.
Your eyes trail from his very apparent hard-on to his face. Heâs staring forward at the TV as if nothing was amiss, but you notice the unmistakable red hue that graces his ears, the way he bites the inside of his cheek. You know him.
You decide to play along if he wants to play the âI'm hard for you but I'm not going to show it because it's movie nightâ game. Youâre so damn good at that game, so it's no skin off your back as you slide your hand to rest completely over the tent in his pants, palming him almost as you snuggle comfortably into his side and âwatchâ the movie.
You know your touch has an effect on him from the way he stiffens, his grip on your hip flexing. You can see Leon look down at you out of the corner of your eye, yet you pay the attention no mind. This is a game of playing it cool, isnât it?
Leon catches on to what youâre getting at pretty quickly and decides he wonât be shown up in a game he started. His hand, which had been resting basically on your ass before, slides up. He slips his hand under your arm and your shirt to cup your left tit. Maybe that affected him more than you though.
You werenât wearing a bra. Of course you werenât wearing a bra, you were in your own place and comfortable watching a movie with your boyfriend. It made sense, but god did it make him twitch in his boxers all the same to feel it hand first- first hand. Oops. Same thing.
He isnât shy about it as he tenderly massages the soft mound, his thumb brushing over your nipple over and over until it hardens under his ministrations. It brings him a different sense of pride when you tense, relax, and let out a string of curses under your breath, trying hard to act like it didnât feel as good as it did.
You return his groping by fully palming your hand against his dick, feeling the outline of his length through his sweatpants. His grip on you flexes and he swears softly as his eyes slip shut for a beat. Youâre suddenly struck by a realization that makes this all seem really stupid.
You both donât even know (or care about) what movie youâre watching, and youâre both really horny. What does it matter if you get a little (or a lot more than a little) touchy?
Leon seems to be struck by the same realization as he mutters a âfuck thisâ and loosens his grip on your tit, instead hooking a hand under your thigh to pull you onto his lap. He wastes absolutely no time in grinding you down against his hard on, pulling a moan from you and him as he nudges firmly against your clit through your thin shorts from the motion.
He repeats the motions over and over again sharply, swearing as he tips his head back against the couch and bites his lip, feeling dizzy from the pleasure. His fingers dig into your hips, surely leaving his hand print in the form of bruises from how tightly heâs holding on to you.
You canât bring yourself to care about the pain when everytime he pulls your hips, he rocks his own up against you, giving you the friction you wanted in large enough doses to make everything seem like nothing. The dull ache is a little added bonus if you really think about it anyway.
The friction, while good for a while, just isnât enough though. Feeling Leon through his sweatpants and your shorts, while so damn good, just isnât enough.
Leon sure seemed to feel the same way when heâs reluctantly lifting your hips away from his and working your shorts off your legs. Itâs clumsy, and you canât stop yourself from giggling when he mutters about how you should never wear clothes again if it takes this much effort to take off, but he does eventually get the stupid shorts off. Heâs met with the delightful reward of seeing you in your panties, and he has to fight the urge to come in his boxers when he catches sight of the wet patch that graced the front of them.
Heâs all caught up in admiring the sight (and thinking about what you taste like) when he feels you tugging at his sweats, tugging down the waistband to expose his boxers. If you couldnât straight up bounce on his cock (mainly because youâre both a little too lazy at the moment), at least you could grind on each other with minimal clothing.
Nothing like a little dry humping to spice up movie night, right?
He eagerly leans back as he pulls your hips down against his again, hissing softly when he pulls you down in that same grinding motion from before and you both buck in response. Fuck, just a few layers less and it feels like heaven.
Over and over and over and over again, he drags your hips in a hard roll against his stiff cock, driven utterly insane by how good it feels and how sweet you sound moaning in pleasure, leaning in towards him so the head of his cock nudges more consistently against your clit, pulling even more moans from your lips and his.
His mind feels blank as his grip tightens on you, pulling you faster against him as a pit forms deep in his stomach. He canât take it. His boxers grow damp from all the friction with your soaked panties, though heâs sure his precum is also the source of the wetness. Lube source aside, Itâs getting harder and harder for either of you to resist the burning heat flooding your stomachs.
Youâre the first to cave to the pressure, head dropping forward against Leonâs shoulder as your body tenses, your thighs shaking lightly as your body throbs. A string of curses follow your orgasm as Leon keeps your hips in motion against him.
He mutters a low string of praise against your ear, something along the lines of âfuck, you feel so good babyâ and âm so close, gonna come so hardâ. It all melts together in your mind when heâs still rutting against your throbbing and aching clit, overstimulating you as he chases his own orgasm using your body.
He doesnât hold you pleasure-hostage for much longer when heâs suddenly bucking up sharply against you, groaning lowly as his cock throbs and twitches in his boxers as he finishes and he finally lets you still.
You spend just a moment laying against each other, catching your breath and trying to let the fog pass from your minds. The forgotten movie fills the silence along with your breathing, a sudden burst of clown music jolting you from the post-coital haze and making you laugh a little.
Leon canât help cracking a smile as well, though the moment of amusement was cut short when you shifted and immediately reminded both you and him of the sticky mess you now had to attend to. Cold, cum-stained panties/boxers are a sensory nightmare, and a shower is in the cards for you both. Showering together to fix the mess wouldnât hurt..
Made the mess together, might as well clean up in the shower together too, right?
~~~
actually made with re4 Leon in mind for once (maybe also DI leon tho...)
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon resident evil#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy smut#resident evil#leon smut#leon x reader#leon x you
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'Cause Iâm a taker, 'cause Iâm a giver
or
Would our beloved marauders and skittles prefer to be on the giving or the receiving end during oral ?
warnings: smut
James would be a giver through and through, one hundred percent, no questions asked.
Heâd be the type of man that gets fully offended when he hears other guys refuse to go down on their girlfriends. He wouldnât understand it, wouldnât even start to comprehend how that could even be possible.
Heâd live to please, to make sure you are spoiled, worshiped like you were more holy than human. Especially in the bedroom. Your body is a temple, and heâd be devoted to it, every single inch of it.
Heâd use just his tongue to bring you to tears the first couple of rounds, nothing else. Not even his fingers.
He would start slowly, teasing, leaving feather-light kisses on the soft skin of your inner thighs, giving you the sweetest of tortures and creating a path thatâd lead to the very object of his desires.
Heâd pick up his pace as soon as a drop of your essence makes contact with the tip of his tongue. From then on, heâd be gone. Heâd lick and suck and lap at your core like his life depended on it.
He'd delve his tongue in to feel you whole, feel your softness, your tightness, the way your sensitive and velvety walls would contract around the delicious intrusion, how wet you'd be by just the attention of his skilled mouth.
He'd take his sweet time with it, too, alternating between relentless flicks of his tongue and languid laps that make your legs shake in both need and impatience. Heâd add his fingers then, slowly, one by one, stretching you out and brushing that sweet spot until he brings you so close to the edge that your vision blurs, your mind blanks, and you come undone with a cry of his name on your lips.
He'd dirty talk you through the whole thing, too. And when I say dirty, I mean absolutely filthy.
It wouldn't matter if his mouth is already occupied with its mission to make you fall apart piece by piece; he'd let it run free and wild to add fuel to the fire already consuming every cell of your body.
Sirius would be both, in equal parts.
I feel like he wouldn't really have a preference. He'd love to please you as much as he'd love to be pleased.
It would depend on the mood, on the vibe, and on who decides to make the first move.
If it's you, he'd let you take the reins, look at you with the lewdest bedroom eyes ever (this man has the most sensual âfuck meâ gaze, I just know that) as you sink to your knees, and heâd fully let you do whatever you wish to him. Slow strokes, fast rhythm, swallowing him whole, sucking his head leisurely, using your hands, using your mouth; it wouldnât matter. You set the pace, make the rules, and heâd gladly take everything you offer him. Not without any complaints, though, especially when youâd have a little too much fun. Heâd whine and grumble and grab the chair handles or the sheets so tight his knuckles would lose all their blood flow, but heâd never tell you to stop.
Because the truth is heâd love to be teased a little but would absolutely never admit it. He wouldn't need to; you'd feel it right down your throat.
If it's him, you better buckle up because you'd be in for a ride.
Heâd be a full-on menace, the biggest of teases.
Heâd drag it out as much as he could without making you actually come, slowly but surely work you up with his tongue, his fingers, pumping them carefully, precisely, spreading your wetness all over your tender cunt just to dive in right after and eat you out like a madman until your eyes get watery, and itâs the fourth time he brings you so close to heaven, only to snatch it away from you when youâre just about to get through the gates of pleasure.
And heâd do all of that with the sultriest smirk on his face.
Remus would be both, but with a little twist.
Because I feel like no matter the scenario, he'd be the one to have the upper hand.
It would be the softest, gentlest kind of dominance, but he'd still be the one leading, whether it's his head between your thighs or the other way around.
His words would be as sweet as honey, his voice a velvety whisper sending shivers throughout your whole body, the coaxing tone he'd use betrayed by his labored breathing, his filthy words, and his hands shaking as he'd resist every instinct his brain would scream at him to succumb to.
But he wouldn't listen to it; he'd keep politely telling you to relax your throat for him, hollow your cheeks a bit more, stroke him faster, swallow around him.
He wouldn't straight-up order you around; that's not the kind of âcontrolâ he would be into, in my opinion. He'd be firm, sure -or as firm as he'd manage to be with your mouth or hands on him- but his tone would be laced with a sensuality, a sultriness that would turn his words more into enticing suggestions.
And you'd listen to him so well, of course.
So much so that you would deserve a reward for it, wouldn't you ?
He'd gladly give it to you, gently nudging your legs open, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs with his big hands as he approaches your heat slowly, kissing and worshiping every inch of skin under his lips except for where youâd need him the most, where youâd be dripping for him.
Because he wouldnât simply give you what you want; no, that would be too easy. He would make you beg for it, tease you until youâre nothing but a stuttering mess throwing insults at him because you're losing your mind over him and his cruel little games.
Heâd honestly be endeared by it, thinking youâre so cute with that frown on your face and the flames of desire and impatience burning in your eyes so brightly.
Heâd give in, in the end. Because you deserve it.
And because, letâs face it, he couldnât go one second more without your taste on his tongue.
Regulus would be a giver for the most part.
Why ?
Because he would want to look at you and all your little blissed-out expressions as he is taking you apart piece by piece.
He is an observer; he has learned to study people ever since a very young age, reading every single change in someoneâs voice, posture, walking pattern, micro-expressions, and mannerism.
But with you it would be different. He wouldnât observe you like he does with other people, like he is reading an instructions manual to know what to expect from the person in front of him with just a quick, simple glance. Heâd read you like a poem. Attentively, carefully, taking his time to understand the magnificent work of art that is you.
He wouldnât do that because he has to. But because he wants to.
He'd want to catch every single shift in your features, every soft exhale leaving your lips, every moan youâd try to swallow down as he lays next to you, his skilled fingers pumping leisurely in and out of you, breaching through your sensitive core, massaging the tender skin of your walls in a rhythm so exquisite yet so excruciatingly slow that youâd have to start begging for him to do something, anything, to relieve the growing ache between your legs.
The heel of his palm would press on your clit with every prod, every stroke of his long and slender fingers inside of you; the friction so good, so sweet and addicting it would snatch the breath out of you, leaving you a blubbering mess as he takes in the way your features contort in pleasure.
Only then, when you would be a step away from reaching your high, your mind hazy and filled only with a perpetual chant of his name that would also roll off your lips, would he get his mouth on you.
And youâd already be soaked, drenched, and so hypersensitive that he would only need to get a taste of you, gather your essence on his tongue, and spread it on your folds, licking and lapping until heâd reach that little bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently.
Youâd be gone in seconds, and heâd have the image of your blissful, fucked-out expression engraved in his brain forever.
Barty would be a receiver. One hundred percent.
And with that I don't mean he would never ever go down on you, because he would, and with immense pleasure too, might I add.
But the feeling of euphoria he'd get from seeing you on your knees, your mascara messy and ruined from the sheer veil of tears coating your eyes as your lips stretch around his cock, would send him into overdrive.
Heâd look at you the whole time, lidded eyes darkened with hunger, looking at you through his lashes even when all heâd want to do is throw his head back and get lost in the feeling. He wouldnât let himself do that, though; he would keep his eyes on you, drinking in the sight heâs being blessed with. His hands would be everywhere: in your hair, sometimes pulling gently, some other times moving them out of the way to fully see you and your sinful mouth working him up; on your face, brushing away the black ink staining your cheeks as they hollow to accommodate him better, farther.
But his favorite place would be right on the curve between your chin and your neck, where, if heâd put just the slightest bit of pressure, heâd feel your throat contracting and relaxing every time he drags his cock in and out of you. Itâd make his head spin.
His whole body would be tense, too, the muscles of his thighs, of his torso, flexing beneath his heated skin as heâd try to stop himself from literally choking you with his erratic thrusts.
But his hips would gain a consciousness of their own, arching forward to meet your greedy mouth, seeking its warmth, its perfect embrace around him, slithering himself in deeper, faster, his head hitting the back of your throat as a string of breathless groans rolls off his tongue.
Heâd like it a little messy, honestly. Just like him.
Hello to all of you beautiful people đ
How are you ? I hope you're doing good and that you spent some amazing holidays â€
For the first time in months, I finally managed to write something decent, or at least I hope so. So here it is.
It's not exactly what I had promised you, I know (part two of the last request is in the works, don't you worry but I am afraid you'll have to wait a little more), and, on top of that, is also later that I had anticipated, so I am once again really sorry.
I'm also sorry to inform you that I'm taking another writing break until mid February. My exam session will end around then, and I'll finally be able to write more and better đ
Sorry again for my absence, and sorry for having to disappear again for a little while.
I hope you enjoyed this little thing I came up with, and thank you again for reading my workđ
#harry potter#marauders#marauder's era#the maraunders map#james potter#sirius black#regulus black#remus lupin#barty crouch junior#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#regulus black x reader#barty crouch jr x reader#james x reader#sirius x reader#remus x reader#regulus x reader#barty x reader#marauders smut#harry potter smut#james potter x you#james potter smut#sirius black x you#remus lupin x you#regulus black smut#regulus black x you#sirius black smut#remus lupin smut#barty crouch jr x you
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Gather 'round, all ye fuckers. It's time for another AU, let's go.
Time-travel. Obi-Wan from post-RotS (could be early in the Empire, could be as late as ESB, doesn't quite matter) wakes up in the past, as a 12yo, on that fateful trip to join the Agricorp.
He has a few short minutes to think it over, and then scams his way out and towards nearby Mandalore to find Satine.
(Her ghost was hanging out with Qui-Gon's when he was sent back in time, tethered by the Darksaber, and so Obi-Wan is pretty sure she's also somehow in the past?)
(If Qui-Gon's interested in helping, he can track Obi-Wan down. No need to make things easy for him.)
tbf even if he goes back to the Jedi when Qui-Gon comes to fetch him, he needs to plot and scheme with Satine first. Because reasons.
@threebea: Qui-Gon: we were literally five minutes from meeting Obi-Wan: sounds like a you problem Qui-Gon is not having a good mental health day. Like yes he's older and wiser but still.
Satine and Obi-Wan have been busy getting in the way of the Galidraan situation (the Duke is out of his mind with worry because his daughter and heir randomly disappeared in the night.) Obi-Wan figured Qui-Gon could handle Xanatos on his own for a bit
Qui-Gon, suspicious: Have you been kissing? You're twelve. Obi-Wan: On the cheek, sure. Satine: He looks a third of my actual age at death. I look a fifth of his. We are neither of us comfortable with more. Obi-Wan: Also I've been told I need to worry about cooties.
The three of them speed run Jedi apprentice problems since they can't just leave the problems they need to fix unsolved, but way easier when you know who and what the solution is. Like yes they could get someone at the temple to catch Xanatos, but a twelve year old smacking him in the face and getting him in a headlock, and then later saying Xanatos tripped on his cape and knocked himself out oh dear. Also Bruck lives and is weirded out with how Obi-Wan gives him old man advice later.
They're also eager to get to the Real Problems Of Deadly Sith. They can't just SKIP the problems, but man. They sure are hitting fast forward.
Bruck definitely tries to goad Obi-Wan about his "secret girlfriend" that is in no way a secret.
Everyone knows about Obi-Wan having a "pen pal" that he has stated on more than one occasion that he'd have gladly married if not for the tragedy of their stations.
"Padawan Kenobi, you are twelve." "And yet, I shall live my life yearning for the lady who owns my heart, star-crossed as we are."
There's at least one meeting in those early years where Jango is present at an interaction and is abruptly concerned that he's going to have to figure out how to prevent a teen pregnancy without making everything weird. Does he just throw condoms at them? He doesn't know what size they need. Maybe tell their parents? He should tell the parents. He is not qualified to cockblock the 14yos.
#star wars#obitine#obi wan kenobi#satine kryze#qui gon jinn#time travel#duke kryze#bruck chun#jango fett#sw legends#phoenix talks
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Secret Relationship~Pope Heyward
You stretched out on your towel, the sun warming your skin as you adjusted your sunglasses. The ocean waves crashed softly in the background, blending with the occasional laughter from JJ and Pope out in the water. Kie was next to you, eyes closed, soaking up the sun in peaceful silence.
It felt like a perfect Pogue dayâuntil you felt cold water splatter all over you.
"Gah!" you gasped, jolting upright as droplets hit your skin. You ripped your sunglasses off, narrowing your eyes at the culprit.
Pope stood there, grinning mischievously, shaking his hair like a dog. "What? You looked like you were overheating."
"Youâre dead," you threatened, grabbing your towel to swat him.
Pope laughed, easily dodging the swing. "I couldnât resist."
Kie opened one eye and chuckled. "You two are the worst at keeping things casual."
You shot her a look. "Shut up."
Pope flopped down onto the sand beside you, his wet board shorts brushing against your leg. The heat from your tanning session was immediately replaced by his cool touch.
"How was the water?" you asked, pretending not to notice the way your heart raced when he leaned a little closer.
"Perfect," Pope said, eyes softening as he glanced at you. "You should come in next time."
"Maybe," you teased. "If someone promises not to splash me like a maniac."
JJ ran up, dropping his surfboard dramatically onto the sand. "Did I miss something? Why is she threatening to murder you, Pope?"
"Because heâ"
Before you could finish, Pope shot you a warning look, and you bit your tongue. JJ knew nothing about your relationship, and you werenât ready for him to find out. Pope was right. If word got out that the daughter of Sheriff Shoupe was dating a Pogue, chaos would follow.
"Because heâs annoying," you finished, standing up to shake the sand off your towel.
JJ squinted at you suspiciously but shrugged it off. "Fair. Hey, you guys hungry? We could hit The Wreck."
Pope glanced at you. "What do you think?"
You hesitated. "Sure. I could eat."
---
At The WreckâŠ
The four of you sat at a corner booth, JJ devouring a basket of fries while Kie sipped on a lemonade. You and Pope sat across from each other, sneaking glances when no one was looking.
"So," JJ began, pointing a fry at Pope. "Whatâs up with you lately? Youâve been acting weird."
"Weird how?" Pope asked, trying to play it cool.
JJ shrugged. "I donât know. Distracted. Secretive. You hiding something from us?"
Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked down at your burger to avoid JJâs curious gaze.
"JJ," Kie groaned, rolling her eyes. "Not everything is a conspiracy."
JJ smirked. "Maybe not, but you gotta admitâ"
The sound of the doorbell interrupted him, and you froze as your dad, Sheriff Shoupe, walked in. He scanned the restaurant, his eyes narrowing when he spotted you.
"Dad," you greeted, standing up awkwardly.
"What are you doing here with them?" Shoupe asked, his tone disapproving as he eyed Pope and JJ.
"Just grabbing lunch," you said, keeping your voice steady.
Shoupeâs eyes lingered on Pope a little too long, and you saw Pope shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"Iâve got my eye on you," Shoupe warned Pope before turning to you. "Weâll talk when you get home."
With that, he left, and the tension at the table was thick.
"Well," JJ said after a beat. "That wasnât awkward at all."
You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Heâs just⊠overprotective."
Kie gave you a knowing look but said nothing.
As soon as JJ got up to grab another drink, Pope leaned over. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you whispered. "But this is exactly why we need to keep this quiet."
Pope nodded. "I get it. But weâll figure it out, okay?"
You smiled softly, reaching under the table to squeeze his hand. "Okay."
Just then, JJ returned, plopping back down with a soda. "Whatâd I miss?"
"Nothing," you both said in unison.
JJ raised an eyebrow. "Sure."
He didnât look convinced, but for now, your secret was safe.
You smile and hold his hand tighter under the table
Pope smiled back, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth coursing through your body.
JJ glanced between the two of you, a little too observant for comfort, but said nothing.
The rest of the lunch was filled with casual chatter, but you felt Pope's presence keenly next to you. Every passing moment heightened your awareness of him, the secret touches and subtle glances making your heart pound louder than any conversation.
When it was time to go, Kie and JJ headed back to The Chateau, leaving you and Pope alone for a moment.
"I guess I should go," Pope said, his voice low.
"Yeah," you murmured, feeling a pang of disappointment. You didn't want to say goodbye yet.
Pope studied your face, a silent understanding passing between you. He was struggling just as much as you were.
"can I at least give you a kiss" you murmur playfully touching his shoulders
Pope's eyes darkened at your words, his hands finding your hips and pulling you closer.
"I think that's the best idea I've heard all day," he murmured back, his lips brushing against your cheek.
You tilted your head, your lips meeting in a gentle but passionate kiss. It was brief yet filled with an intensity that left you both breathless.Pope's eyes darkened at your words, his hands finding your hips and pulling you closer.
You tilted your head, your lips meeting in a gentle but passionate kiss. It was brief yet filled with an intensity that left you both breathless.
You deepened the kiss and added tongue.The kiss, once started innocently, took on a different tone as you added tongue. Pope's grip on your hips tightened, and he pulled you even closer, responding in kind.
His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss further. It was hungry, desperate, and filled with the pent-up frustration of keeping your feelings hidden.
You were both lost in the moment, the world around you fading away. His kisses trailed down your neck, sending shivers down your spine.
A part of you knew this was risky, that someone could see. But in that moment, you couldnât bring yourself to care. All that mattered was the feel of his lips on your skin and his body pressed against yours.
You moan and give him more space "god I missed this".
"Me too," he breathed, his hands tracing down your sides and settling on the curve of your hips.
The sound of your moan had sent him reeling, and he reclaimed your lips in an urgent kiss. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" Pope whispered against your mouth.
you murmured happily into the kiss, holding him tighter. at that moment jj came back and saw the scene.The sound of a wolf whistle interrupted the intimate moment, and you broke apart to find JJ smirking at you.
"Well, well," JJ said, leaning against a parked car. "What have we here?"
"shit" you whisper.Pope tensed beside you, his expression hardening as he looked at JJ. "It's not what it looks like."
JJ, however, just chuckled, enjoying the spectacle. "Really? Because to me, it looks like you two were about to get a room."
"We weren't," you protested, your cheeks flushing.
JJ raised an eyebrow, a smug grin on his face. "Oh, come on. You two have been acting weird all day, sneaking glances, giggling... Don't even try to deny it."
Pope took a step forward, his voice stern. "JJ, listenâ"
But JJ interrupted him, holding up a hand. "Save it, man. I figured it out a long time ago. You're not as subtle as you think."
Your heart sank. You had been so careful, so calculated, and yet JJ had known all along?
Pope's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists.
JJ's tone softened, his smirk fading into a serious expression. "Hey, it's cool. I get it. You two like each other, and you've been tryna hide it. But secrets have a way of getting out, you know?"
You could feel the tension in the air thicken. Pope was on edge; JJ's casual attitude irked him.
Pope took a calming breath before speaking. "Yes, we've been seeing each other. But we've been keeping it quiet for a reason. If my dad finds out..."
JJ nodded understandingly. "Hey, I get it. Sheriff Shoupe ain't a fan of us pogues."
He paused, considering something before he continued. "Look, your secret is safe with me. I won't say anything."
Pope's shoulders dropped, some of the tension leaving his body. "Thanks, JJ."
"Just don't be shocked if Kie figures it out too," JJ warned with a small smile.
You groaned inwardly. Kie was observant; it wouldn't be long before she caught on too.
"Great," you muttered. "Just great."
JJ chuckled, patting you on the shoulder. "Chin up, kid. This is the Outer Banks. Nothing stays a secret for long here."
There was some truth to that. The community was tight-knit, and gossip spread like wildfire.
You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. JJ was right.
Pope shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his own mouth. "You're infuriating, you know that?"
JJ flashed a cocky grin. "It's part of my charm."
With that, he turned and headed back to his car. You and Pope shared a look, relief and resignation mingling in your gazes.
Once JJ had driven off, you and Pope were left alone again. The silence between you was loaded with the weight of JJ's discovery.
"So, that went well," you said with a nervous laugh.
Pope let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "As well as it could've, I suppose."
He looked at you, his eyes serious. "We need to be more careful. If JJ noticed, Kie definitely will. And your dad..."
you kiss him to reassure him .The feeling of your lips on his immediately calmed his nerves. He relaxed into the kiss, his arms encircling you in a tight embrace.
For a moment, there were no worries, no fears. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms.
#pope heyward one shot#pope heyward imagine#pope heyward fanfiction#pope hayward x reader#pope heyward x reader#pope obx#pope outer banks#pope heyward#kook! pope heyward#pope heyward smut#pope heyward x kook!reader#pope heyward x y/n#pope heyward x you#pope heyward x oc#jonathan daviss smut#jonathan daviss#outer banks imagine#outer banks#jj maybank#kiara carrera#sheriff shoupe#series netflix#netflix#netflix outer banks#imagine netflix#secret relationship#rafe cameron#netflix series#netflix shows#pope heyward hoes
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Pick a card : Your 2025 , predictions based on each month
1-2
Hey guys how are you Happy New Year (^-^)ïŒ , I know I delayed a bit (^.^) for this one but hope you enjoy this , if you resonate like and reblog and gimme feedbacks cause that's what keeps me motivated to post đ«¶đŠąđ©·âšïž
If you do like my work and would want an in depth reading please check out my :
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Pile 1 :
January
I see you starting the year kind of defeated by the previous year it was really hard and tiring for you and tested your faith a lot , you had to make hard choices, I see that you are stuck in a toxic situation or obsessing over something that doesn't serve you . I see that by middle of January it will get better , I do see turmoil in the start but breakthrough is near and it's for you . You will go out to picnics by the end , water bodies will help you , avoid fast food alrighty and make a vision board baby cause this is your year alright .
February
Like I said circumstances will improve I see a quick change of mood in February, is it your birth month ? Celebrations are around . You will feel protected in February things will feel sweeter . You will make a quick decision that will prove to be extremely beneficial for you this maybe about getting in a relationship or joining therapy as well . You might learn more about emotional regulation and heal your heart chakra . You will be grounded in your body and approach life with meaning .
March
There's stubborn energy in march , you are still Taking things slow and steady , the next chapter of your life is about freedom and not in the sense of travelling places alone but in a sense of freedom from other people's judgements and approval I see that you might have a rip off with someone or hear that someone is leaking information about you this might be a fire sign person who's jealous of you hermit for a while and then make a move , plan in silence and win.
April
Now that you have learned a minor lesson of detachment you have vigor and life again, you will seek new opportunities might get a new hobby as well maybe surfing or racing are you info F1 ? You will also get serious about studies some major exam is on the horizon. Nights in April are significant maybe you will do lot of late night studies or sneak out at night or night rides will make you so happy .
May
For may you are in a mood of enjoyment and happiness but remember to work hard there's tendency of you being too engrossed in enjoying that you forget that your labour is yet to be completed, focus on long term goals and possibilities. You might start visiting the temple more often. The person who was leaking info earlier is gonna miss you a lot in may they might even come back to talk ti you again but you're already done with them , you are in a mode of benevolence but yet you know your value well if they do disturb you too much do a cord cutting .
June
Now is the true time to enjoy your fruits of labour you had done in may , your success rate is high you're spiritually aware and emotionally well regulated, you will truly be happy I see reconciliation of someone you loved when you were young maybe a friend or teenage crush kinda vibe , through instagram or something. You are soaring high , your vibrations are too you're close to the sun and your thoughts will create your destiny so think positively.
July
July is also a positive fine with new opportunities and growth in the money sector of your life, if you have a new business idea or creative idea make sure that you invest in it , you will have more energy and vigor in this month but I see you being kind of lost if it's not well decided where you wanna move next so think before you leap work in the right direction and trust god . Also I see that a feminine figure most probably your aunt will get sick so take care of her if she's important to you.
August
August will focus on healing your old wounds , what have you ignored , if you do your healing well by doing shadow work you will get a breakthrough and live well by circumstance , might get a new house , I hear a moving house as well , you also might be s*xually active a lot during this time , Choose your partners wisely. This person might be an air sign . I see you might try to numb your pain but don't this healing will liberate you so choose this .
September
In September you're not giving a fuck about anyone , you're doing what you like how you like , leaving people and situations and praying a lot , I see some sadness about things left behind this could be stuff that didn't work out in business family or love , if it is the person mentioned in August then you can avoid the pain by being cautious and not attaching yourself by simple discernment I see 1111 , you can choose what you want to happen
October
October is literally like live through the pain moment đ I see a hike in finances but your mental health is detoriating you're staying alone , thinking too much and explaining too much , it's necessary that you give yourself a break here okay talk to a friend please please I beg because I see these great times for you which you may fail to recognize because you're too much in your head , it's really important to focus on you in October, mute the noise and focus on you . Eat dates , go to a date and save the date because you're a star.
November
Silent night holy night all is calm all is bright energy , this year Christmas is gonna be lit and you're preparing from November haha I see you getting advent calender ordering gifts for yourself and family . You're gonna be In a supernova mode excessive focus on your goals and you're like you will destroy anyone who will come in your way energy , you're protective and calm it's like you're a mafia boss observing your opponent and waiting for your minions to attack , lol you're gonna have fun in November a lot of funn.
December
December calls for a dark night of the soul heavy reflection on your year and the endings you have had this year , despite being scared you were strong and did what had to be done and you're proud of yourself by the middle of the month . I see you cooking a lot and going to shopping a lot mostly groceries you will be more confident and feel amazing in your body if you had a weight loss goal this year drumroll I see you meeting it . Love Love , you're doing great.
Pile 2 :
January :
Fire in your heart and clear vision is what you're going for in January , I see the circumstances might not be the most favourable but you're hopeful in the midst of a chaos, the happenings have made you instill a sense of balance within oneself and clear sight for what you truly want. You will be presented with a choice in January a choice of new life a new belief a new mindset and it will lead to great outcomes , I sense some modelling offer or working in corporate sector .
February:
The opportunities of January seem to be at full action in February you're more confident than ever , you're at eagle eye view towards the things that you want , your intuition is strong now you're observing the small details and working on them to correct them . Like posture, working on a project you really consider important. The advice is to lay on grass and watch the clouds it will give you comfort. Rest and relax and let universe prepare your auspicious way .
March :
Money is incoming in March, as March is actually the astrological new year I see that you will feel it more than the offers the weight of the time and you will look forward to everything, you're not afraid to work hard and you're really admired for those qualities. I see that you might have recovered from a breakup and now you're set on this path all over again , don't be scared the universe holds your hand , it won't set something in your path that you cannot handle.
April :
You will have ample resources in April to the point that you will become detached with money because you realise that there are much more things to life. You will be more spiritual and find fulfillment in your family and spend quality time with them , a kid maybe Born during this time or you might get pregnant so if you don't want that be safe . As for your love life I sense turbulence cause by old people so don't let the oldies in. Work on healing your sacral chakra in April.
May:
In May your love life seems great tbh , movie dates , colouring together , park dates etc a lot will be happening and it's nice to see . And I see in may you might become too detached with money you may feel drained so you catch up now , multiple investments Will be made by you . One of the sectors good for you will be wine , invest in a wine brewery or gold , both will work well. If you worship Lakshmi this is the month you get serious about her cause she's ready to bless you so so much .
June :
June is full of fun with friends but also a lot of endings due to arguments , make sure you more along with the right people and don't settle because in case you're you're moving with idiots they will exactly show you why they are an idiot , might make remarks on your body and make you feel insecure not recommended. I see your partner being supportive and helping you. Ground this June and wear red lipstick man it suits you so so much it drives your partner crazy .
July :
July is a state of recovery , some of you might have felt disconnected with your high-school friends so you seeked new friends or coworkers but this month you will understand that they love you so much and they're always here for you even if it seems hard at times . You will get flowers a lot , I see a guide being extremely protective about you will be an old spirit guide . If you're a saturnian Saturn will be kind to you and you will have the courage to face anything and everything. Your mindset is good .
August:
August is the month you fall in love with the aesthetic value of the things around you , you might go redecorating your entire room or house , tip you should get a gold vase it will be lucky for you I also see some hummingbird symbolism and bells definitely great for you . Your parents will come around and you will feel connected to them a lot. For some of you around this time you might get engaged . I hear San Paolo so omg excited for you .
September :
The energy is quite similar to August, you're just very very excited in September. Might get new shoes and watch old cartoons even do some repair work in your free time . Will come across a red car and would consider even buying a car. Spiritual advancement is also seen you might have started meditating in early July and September will be the month of effects heightened awareness seeks you now . Don't take any drugs okay I see some peer pressure coming in .
October :
444 on my time zone October will be a protected month or it could mean to up your protection game mann you need a sigil to help I do see a sigil it's circle kind of arrow like , kind of reminds me of the vikings. This pile also gives me Vasalisa vibes ( fairytale) . The fire of your heart burns greater than the fire around you're the tree of life and you're the disaster of it and rebuilding of it . Omg why am I writing this one so whimsically maybe that's how you feel very whimsical very witchy .
November :
You're gonna feel really cute first of all , drenched in kisses and you're gonna party Charli xcx style, your worries are lighter your heart is bigger tbh , attending concerts can be something you do or you might start liking a new artist I hear conan gray , suki Waterhouse tbh . A month of crafts as well , creating new things like bags and cards . You seem to be on a break from work in this month or just your work is comparatively easier so you're in a state of rest .
December :
You're in worship mode in December totally offerings and affirmations are your mantra . Your year was a total up down coaster man (*>â<*) like it had a balance of everything fun and sadness but what remained consistent is the love , romantically this year will be better for you because you have learnt from your past relationship not to depend too much on your partner and it indeed is helping you keep this one and also your mental health . Take care love love to you.
Thanks for reading đ«¶
#pick a photo#pick a pile#pick a picture#pick a card#tarot community#tarot blog#tarot reading#tarot cards#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#tarot#pac tarot#pac reading#intuitive tarot reader#intuitive messages#intuitive guidance#intuitive readings#diviniation#witchblr#Spotify
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We got Ingo isekai, we got Ansy isekai, and now we got Ikrik(?? Sorry if mispelled). Can we mayhaps get a Emmet isekai?
Haha, so first thingâs first: the Ansy & Ikrit who showed up in the isekai comics / doodles are not PokĂ©verse (DxP) Ansy & Ikrit (so donât tag it under âDxP REWRITEâ or ârewrite AUâ pls lol XD)
Isekai-ed us are straight self-inserts while PokĂ©verse Ansy & Ikrit are more like AU versions of ourselves â theyâre based on us & our experiences with the games, but live different lives (if that makes sense).
Iâve been meaning to make a comic or something distinguishing me from DxP Ansy - right off the bat, one of the biggest differences is that I have health problems that PokĂ©verse Ansy doesnât have to worry about =7= (Iâm sure with their advanced technology, theyâd have found cures for this stuff đ„Čđ©”)
Another, easier tell is that I have a cool crescent moon scar on my neck lol & PokĂ©-Ansy doesnât (see above)
Oh, the funny consequences of basing your characters on yourselves XDXD
â
So, Iâm not sure! In mipmothâs original comic that inspired this AU of their AU (Hero of Bombs), they wrote in the tags that Emmet got isekai-ed to Spirit Tracks, & theyâd reunite via a Linked Universe kinda scenario (if you donât know, look it up - itâs a great crossover comic where all the Links go on an epic adventure! âïžđ)
As for me, I imagined theyâd just reunite back home as Ingo is just sent back much sooner than Legends Arceus, having helped Link defeat Ganondorf (me-Ansy going back home about the same time, arriving when as Ikrit does). We can consider Ingoâs memory of Emmet that showed up in the Spirit Temple a sort of reunion, along with whatever dreams he has of him. ^_^
On that note, Iâve been treating this Ingo more like the canon one, rather than the one my trainer is friends with & whoâs featured in DxP REWRITE. Iâm not sure, but thatâs where Iâm leaning. ouo
(EDIT: fixed some stuff & added some stuffs to help visibility ^0^)
#ask#hero of bombs#tears of the kingdom#zelda au#submas au#self insert#isekai#silly#lore#explanation#maybe pokéverse Ansy will get a change in appearance in the future to make it easier to tell us apart XD
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So, I have lately attempted to make it my business to collect Jewish alternate universe ideas, because reasons. I don't know if I have any interesting suggestions for your Jewkanda - @anon-e-has-a-tmblr's idea with the Samaritans sounds interesting, though even going back to 2nd Temple times they were separate from the rest of Judaism, so you should take them with a grain of salt.
The idea of Khaybar suggested by @ewfewgeg sounds interesting, and intersects with an idea I've been working on: there was a 16th century False Messiah who claimed to come from the desert of Khabor, possibly referring to Khaybar, who claimed there was a Jewish independent kingdom there. It sounds very promising until you realize the entire purpose of his journey to Europe was to get canons to help him fight the Ottomans, which doesn't sound like something a man from a super-advanced civilization will do. Of course, this is an AU, so you can change things a little or explain why he did what he did, so I recommend you look up David Reubeni. If you take his story at face value (which nearly no one does), it can probably help a little with this. He also has written his story and you can find his book on the Internet, but I'm not sure I recommend it as it starts with really weird stories.
How do you plan to explain their futuristic technology? An asteroid with (basically magical) otherworldly material, like Wakanda? Or something else?
On another note, I had my own weird idea about a Jewish hidden civilization - I realized that in most hidden world stories, the separation between the magical and mundane starts around the time between Gerush Sefarad and the Khmelnytsky uprising and all that followed (usually close to the latter). Which led me to the particularly odd idea of a universe were the Jewish people have decided to join magical creatures in hiding from the rest of humanity, as a result of the banishment from Spain. The rest of the world was convinced that Jews were only a myth, which might sound far fetched but: a. Christianity is so detached from Judaism that some Christians tend to not realize their religion came from Judaism, and b. It also sounds far fetched for elves to disappear around the 16th-17th centuries and everyone start believing they're legends when they were completely present prior to that. Oh, and c. The definition of magical and mundane is weird in a world where they previously intermixed, and hidden world stories raise a lot of questions on that point anyway.
Hello fellow Jumblr peoples
I have a question for you. Answer in the reblogs/comments!
If there were a Judeofuturist Nation (AKA Jewish version of Wakanda, Jewkanda....) How would it work? Where would it be located? Why or When was it created? What would society be like there? What are the people like?
... im totally not debating writing a short (or long form) story about it... totally not... (đ âĄïž)
EVEN IF YOU HAVE NO IDEAS, REBLOG FOR MORE INTERACTION PLS đđđ
#jumblr#jewblr#judaism#jewish tumblr#stop antisemitism#jewish#antisemitism#jewish history#jewish stories#jewish writer#jewish questions#funkowrites#jumblr? pls#<- prev tags#I don't usually tag my posts on the topic with antisemitism#However this particular type of alternate history needs to address antisemitism IMO#alternate history#alternate jewish history
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Title: Pestering Brothers
Rating: T
Summary: Narinder goes to pester Kallamar at the Healing Bay.
Ships: N/A
Content Warnings: N/A
AO3 Upload
When The Lamb wandered towards Narinder's sunning spot, Narinder pulled his robe's hood down over his face. The Lamb would understand he wished to be left alone to enjoy the nice sun and did not want to be roped into whatever task they had on hand.
The Lamb plopped next to him with a noisy sigh.
Or perhaps notâŠ
"Your older brother isâŠ" they paused momentarily to gather their thoughts, "a bit much."
"You can say 'annoying,'" Narinder grumbled, adjusting his hood so only one of his three eyes peeked out towards The Lamb.
"I said he's 'a bit much,' not 'annoying'."
"Are those not the same?"
"Not the point." The Lamb rubbed their temples with the heel of their palms.
"Then what is the point? If you are here to bemoan your mistake of bringing him to the cult, take it elsewhere. I tried to warn you."
"I'm not." The Lamb jutted out their chin. "I'm being nice and giving you an update how your older brother is doing."
Narinder didn't want any updates on Kallamar. He wanted to lounge in the sun until he had to go prepare the temple for the evening's sermon.
The Lamb said, "Giving you and your siblings specific jobs seems to have helped you all adjust faster to mortal life."
Narinder conceded this fact with a slight nod of his head.
Leshy lived for the drama and fighting he encountered at the drink house. Nearly every other day, his youngest brother had some tale to tell of the night prior where he had to step in and calm down a particularly nasty argumentâor goaded the fight into continuing, depending on how he was feeling.
As for Heket, she enjoyed cultivating the garden plants. If Narinder stood up from his sunning spot, he could easily see the sizable pumpkin his sister had been babying for the last month and a half.
"You gave a job to Cowardly Kallamar then?" Narinder smirked. "What do you have him doing? Scaring off birds with his shaking?"
"I brought him to the healing bay," The Lamb explained. "He was the god of sickness, so he must know what helps the sick, too."
Narinder made a noise of agreement, then added, "Let me take a guess: He spent ten minutes bragging about how true that was and telling you that you are a fool for not realizing it sooner?"
The Lamb slumped down into the grass. "Five minutes, but, yes, more or less."
Kallamar was insufferable. He had always been insufferableâŠand vain and annoying and a coward and--
"He was going through the herbs and tinctures when I left, " The Lamb continued. "I'm sure he will have a list of complaints about what we have and don't have when he is done." They threw their arm over their face with a groan.
Narinder knew he would. Unless Kallamar was in his own temple in Anchordeep, he would criticize and complain about every little thing, from how the bottles were stored to how the poultices were mixed.
Narinder stood, wiping the grass off his robes. "I will go check on him."
He had barely taken a step when The Lamb grabbed his ankle. "Don't go harass him. He needs time to adjust. You all did. Besides, I just brought him back from the dead. I don't want to waste bones doing it again so soon."
With a snort, Narinder pulled his leg away. He adjusted to being in this weak, ungodly body quickly. It only took him a week to remember he had to eat food and drink water every day.
"I won't make him cry," he promised, though he wasn't sure he would be able to keep it.
The Lamb sent a pointed look at Narinder, a wordless warning not to be a jackass.
Kallamar did not know that bothersome lamb had given him a Sisyphean task! Kallamar took a cracked bottle from the shelf and turned it over in his hand. Brittle leaves rattled against each other in the bottle.
Narinder rolled his eyes and started toward the healing bay.
---
It seemed half the bottles Kallamar had pawed through were like that. They were cracked, cloudy, dirty, or all three at once. Much of their contents had turned to dust or evaporated away to nothingnessâcompletely useless!
How did that lamb keep a cult running with their medical supplies in shambles like this?
No wonder it took so long for Kallamar to heal when The Lamb forced him to join their pathetic cult.
Kallamar pinched the cork and pulled. Instead of popping out of the bottleneck, the top of the bottle snapped off at the crack near the base of the neck.
Kallamar looked from one part of the bottle to the other before heaving a sigh. He set the broken bottle top to the side then dumped the leaves into his palm to examine.
Kallamar jumped from the warm breath on his shoulder. The bottom of the bottle fell to the floor and, by some miracle, it didn't shatter.
When he spun around, he found himself face to face with death itselfâhis little brother, Narinder. No, no, not death. Not anymore. Kallamar had to remind himself that Narinder didn't have the crown. He held no more power than Kallamar, Heket, or Leshy. He was a lowly, earthly follower now.
Narinder raised his eyebrows before pointing back down at Kallamar's hand.
He said something, but Kallamar found himself still too shaken to pay attention enough to see what was said.
"W-what?" He stammered.
"Raspberry leaves," Narinder repeated, pointing again to Kallamar's clenched hand.
Kallamar opened his palm. He had accidentally crushed the dried leaves to dust when Narinder scared him. He wiped the powder off on his robes and did notice the slight scent of raspberry.
"What do you want?" He narrowed his eyes, focusing hard on Narinder's lips.
Without his crown to dampen the blaring tinnitus in his head and strengthen what little hearing he still had, he had to concentrate to understand what anyone said to him. Reading lips and paying attention to the slight sounds he could still pick out was all he could do.
Narinder straightened himself and took a look around the healing bay.
"I was told you were assigned to clean out this old place. I thought you might need some help," Narinder commented idly, as if he had just stepped in for a chat.
Kallamar knew better than that.
"I don't want your help."
He didn't want Narinder anywhere near him.
Kallamar turned around to the table to continue to sort through the bottles, boxes, and satchels of medicine. He had hoped that his curt reply would drive Narinder off, but instead of leaving, Narinder moved to sit on the bed, the least musty thing in the whole place. He stretched, yawned, then laid back with his eyes shut.
Of course, Narinder would not leave. Narinder never listened to Kallamar before, why would he start now? At least before, Kallamar could retreat to the safety of Anchordeep and his temple when Narinder antagonized him. Now Kallamar was stuck in this pathetic, little base, in this pathetic, little body with no powers, no followers, and no place to go.
He gritted his teeth.
No, he was not going to let Narinder get to him. They were not gods anymore. Narinder was not death and Kallamar was not blight. Narinder was just Kallamar's annoying and pestering little brother now, nothing more.
The medical bay's bed was comfortable, if a little too cool for Narinder's taste. If the bed was pushed towards the door and the warm sun, then it would be an excellent new napping spot. The Lamb wouldn't be able to find him as quickly and make him 'get back to work' or whatever other nonsense they ordered.
He had to just ignore him. If he focused on his task at hand, he could do that with ease.
---
He sprawled, listening to the clinks of bottles as Kallamar worked. Every so often he would hear a mumble "What is this?" or a groan of frustration.
Narinder considered holding a one-sided conversation, mostly to annoy Kallamar when he finally noticed he was doing it, but decided against it. Just staying there after he was told he wasn't wanted was enough to mess with Kallamar. To Narinder's pleasure, he had noticed a tenseness in Kallamar's movements and the occasional glances at Narinder when he thought he wouldn't notice.
Narinder rolled so his head lay off the side of the bed. He looked upside down at Kallamar.
Much like his younger siblings, when The Lamb hauled Kallamar from his torment in purgatory, they left all of his thousands of years of divinity behind. The air of godly power that somehow clung to Kallamar, despite his cowardly nature, evaporated when Kallamar fell face-first onto the indoctrination circle. How sickly and weak he looked then, barely able to hold his head up as an odd green color painted his face. The weakling spent days on bed rest before he was able to stand again.
Narinder almost laughed at the memory.
Kallamar took a wooden box from the counter and shook it. Pursing his lips, he pried the lid off. With a puzzled expression, he tipped over the box until the contents fell out to the tabletop. Kallamar carefully picked up something wrapped in paper and herbs. He pulled away at the wrapping before gagging.
Narinder rolled over to his belly and pushed himself up to his knees.
He cringed and dropped the bundle back in the box.
"Why?!"
"What? What is it?" he asked, but Kallamar didn't respond. Instead, he held his face in his hands and groaned.
Narinder frowned. He took the pillow from the bed and threw it. Kallamar jumped when it hit his side and said a swear in a language no mortal spoke anymore.
When Kallamar turned to glare, Narinder repeated, "What is in the box?"
A smirk crossed Kallamar's face as he returned the lid with a sound tap.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"I would. That is why I asked."
Kallamar hummed in reply and set the box to the side. He proceeded to pop the top off of a cloudy bottle and give it a sniff, completely ignoring Narinder.
Narinder bristled with annoyance. He came here to mess with Kallamar, not to be messed with.
Narinder jumped to his feet and started towards Kallamar and the box. Kallamar snatched the box, holding it to his chest. Narinder stomped his foot down, knowing the vibrations through the floor would be enough to scare that coward into losing his grip.
A sharp pain shot up his leg from the sole of his foot. With a cry, he hopped back, lost his balance, and fell to his back.
He bit his tongue to hold back a cry, trying to force his head to stop spinning so he could focus on the stabbing pain in his foot. He hauled himself to the bed before he set his foot propped up on his other knee.
Glass and crushed raspberry leaf clung to his bloody foot.
It's from the bottle Kallamar dropped earlier, he realized. Kallamar had been so busy pretending to ignore him, that he never picked it back up.
An instinct Narinder usually ignored reared its head. With pain and annoyance on its side, the primal urge beat any rational thought. Narinder stuck his tongue out to lick clean the wound.
Kallamar grabbed him by the cheeks and forced his face up.
"Are you stupid? Do you want glass in your tongue, too?" He snapped.
Though Narinder knew he was right, he huffed in defiance and looked to the side.
Kallamar pulled his hands away. He carefully picked his way through the remaining shards and started rifling through items on the table. He hoped Kallamar would leave to find The Lamb or their younger siblings for help, but Kallamar returned a moment later and sat next to Narinder.
He held out his hand.
"Let me see your foot," he ordered.
Narinder snorted. "No. I will be fine." He pinched the largest piece of glass between his fingers and sharply pulled. A hiss of pain slipped from his teeth.
"Fine." Kallamar sniffed. "Get an infection, die of sepsis. I do not care what happens to you, anyway." Kallamar dropped the items he'd brought in a heap next to Narinder. Narinder stared at the blood dripping down his foot.
An infection? He couldn't remember when he had last had one, but he could remember the infections and sepsis he saw in his followers, the burning flesh, the oozing pus, and the writhing pain they were in until Narinder ended their suffering.
He groaned. Before Kallamar could get out of reach, Narinder grabbed his robes.
He didn't speak; he just met his older brother's eyes for the heartbeat his pride would allow.
For an instant, Kallamar looked fearful and untrusting, but his expression shifted to one of annoyance.
The bloody glass shard clinked against its brethren on the red stained cloth.
"You've always been such a pest," Kallamar grumbled, taking Narinder's hand off his robe.
---
Kallamar bend down to the bowl of steaming water he'd rush to the kitchen to get. He didn't dare light the fire pit in the medical bay to boil water. Whoever had been keeping the bay up before Kallamar had put baskets of vomit stained blankets right next to the pit. Some of the blankets had even spilled into the ring of stones, and Kallamar refused to touch something so disgusting with a new body so susceptible to illness.
He took a cloth rag from the bowl and rung the water out before pressing it to Narinder's foot. He would need to stitch up some of the gashes, but the skin had to be clean before he made any attempts.
Narinder hissed through his teeth.
"Oh, do not act like a baby." Kallamar rolled his eyes.
Narinder glowered, attempting to sit up from his back, but Kallamar lifted his foot up higher.
"This needs to stay above the level of your heart."
Narinder huffed and laid back down.
"I've seen you cut in half before. This should be nothing to you." Kallamar returned the foot to his lap.
"Being cut in half doesn't hurt," Narinder retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.
A bellowing laugh burst from Kallamar's chest, making Narinder jump.
"You are a dirty liar. It does hurt--a lot. " Kallamar moved the rag away from the foot. He gave Narinder's foot one last wipe and a good look for any more glass before dropping the rag next to the glass pile.
As he picked out the needle from the bottom of the water bowl, he continued, "Your usurper cut me in half the first time they killed me." He pointed the needle to the top of his head and drew it down to his belly
He had fought for his life, sending wave after wave of curses and minions and Anchordeep beasts to kill that vile creature masquerading as a god of death. He accomplished his task twice before The Lamb came back a third time, accompanied by two small demons and a glowing, godly axe. It was this axe that the Lamb slew him with, striking him when he took less than a second to breathe. The Lamb sliced through his flesh and bone, leaving blood and pain in the axe's wake.
To add insult to injury, as Kallamar lay dying, he watched as a third demon came flying in, bringing with it a spirit heart for the victorious lamb.
"Foul, terrible, cruel creatureâŠ" he muttered, shaking his head.
Kallamar tied a knot in the silk thread. He had always preferred the use of catgut to close wounds, but dried intestines were among the many other materials The Lamb's medical tent lacked. He didn't bother to warn Narinder of the pain as he stabbed the needle into the soft flesh.
Narinder bit down hard on his lip as Kallamar worked to close the largest of the gashes. Kallamar took another rag from the side of the water bowl and wiped away the new blood.
If Narinder attempted to speak to him while he worked, Kallamar couldn't tell. His focus lay solely on closing the wounds. He felt calm, the most calm he'd felt since being indoctrinated into this blasted cult. Patching up wounds was his second nature.
As he pulled tight the last stitch on the final large wound, he saw Narinder's jaw moving out of the corner of his eye.
"What? Do you need to cry? Does it hurt worse than being cut in half?" Kallamar mocked.
He tied off the thread without having to look at his hands. He knew taking stitches without any type of numbing hurt, but he didn't want to give Narinder any pity.
Narinder made a rude gesture towards Kallamar with his middle finger.
"Lucky for you, I am all done sewing you up," Kallamar said, twisting the lid off a glass jar. Inside was the saddest excuse for a wound poultice Kallamar had seen in centuries -- there wasn't even any flax in itâbut it would have to do to keep the wound moist and protected from dirt.
Narinder said something, but Kallamar was too busy slathering on the poultice to catch it. He set it aside and went for the bandages before turning his attention to Narinder's face.
"Hmm?"
Narinder opened his mouth, then shut it a heartbeat later. He looked away and shook his head.
Kallamar shrugged and started to wrap up Narinder's foot. As he worked, a thought came to him. He'd never dressed any of Narinder's wounds before then. Even before they sealed him away, Kallamar had never had to step in and suture closed gashes or apply honey and bandages to scrapes on him, unlike the rest of their siblings.
With how many fights Heket tended to pick, she was the worst of them, though Leshy was a close second since he liked to join Heket in her scuffles. Though uncommon, even Shamura had to be patched up when they underestimated the army or god they waged war against.
Narinder never needed wounds shut or a poultice applied. He would not scar. His wounds would not fester. He would die and bring himself back before that could happen.
Suddenly annoyed, Kallamar pulled the bandage a little too tightânot enough to cut off blood flow, but enough to be uncomfortable.
Kallamar lifted Narinder's foot from his lap and scooted out before dropping it unceremoniously back down.
"There. Done, " he said, tying up the cloth with the glass shards. He took them to a pile of old and broken containers he'd made earlier to throw out. He grabbed a straw broom and quickly swept the remaining glass on the floor into a pile. He was not going to risk having to use any of this cult's medical supplies on himself, not until The Lamb had replaced them with items of higher quality, at least.
Narinder moved his foot into his lap to examine the bandaging. An odd expression crossed his face, guilt or sadness, maybe? Kallamar didn't have time to dwell on it before that complete fool swung his legs out and attempted to stand.
Narinder yelped and fell back onto the bed.
"I will see about getting you some help to hobble back to your quarters." Kallamar waved his hand. "The sooner you are gone, the better for me."
He expected a snarky retort or another rude gesture, not for Narinder to smile softly at him.
"You know, I have seen you throw around your plagues and spread your miasma thousands of times," he mused. "I always found sickness a terrible way to die. There is no honor or glory in succumbing to a fever. It's pathetic."
Kallamar bristled, wishing he had tied the bandage even tighter.
Narinder chuckled. "Thousands of times," he repeated. "Thousands of thousands, even, but I only ever saw you cure sickness one time." He held up his pointer finger. "One of Shamura's soldiers brought back some sort of terrible illness, a cough that racked the body and fever that brought delirium, " Narinder recalled. "Shamura summoned me to help those that they knew would not make it pass on peacefully."
"I remember you actually scolded Shamura," Narinder shook his head, "and told them they should have called you sooner. That they know better than to let sickness spread."
Kallamar furrowed his brow. He vaguely recalled that. It was thousands of years ago, possibly more than that. Well before Heket or Leshy joined their family at the least, back when Narinder was the youngest bishop and Kallamar held less fear of him.
"You cured that whole army with ease, soothing their fevers and easing their coughs with merely a wave of the hand." Narinder met Kallamar's eyes. "I was jealous, you know."
"What?" Kallamar gasped. "You were jealous of me healing some mortal soldiers?"
There was plenty Kallamar could understand Narinder being jealous of, including his good looks, the glory of his temple, and the majestic beauty of Anchordeep, but that? Something so simple?
"I could only end suffering. I could not ease it nor erase it." Narinder looked at his hands, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "That has not changed, I'll admit."
Kallamar's chest twisted uncomfortably. How could Narinder have admire his abilities? Admired him? It made no sense.
He looked away, more emotions pulling at his heart. He should still be mad. It shouldn't matter what Narinder said. Kallamar should still hate himâŠ
No, he never hated Narinder. He was scared of him, angry that his cult swelled while Kallamar's waned, upset about his handsome ears and hearing loss, saddened by chaining Narinder up for a thousand years, but he never actually hated him.
Kallamar had his head turned away and was uncharacteristically quiet.
Kallamar blinked at the tears welling up in his eyes, but despite his best effort, they overflowed and ran down his cheeks.
---
Narinder pursed his lips. He knew he shouldn't have said that, but the pain brought old memories to the surface and loosened his tongue.
A sniffle brought Narinder out of his thoughts. He winced as he saw Kallamar wipe his eyes with his wrist.
The one thing he had promised The Lamb he wouldn't do, make Kallamar cry.
He turned his attention to his lap, pretending he didn't hear anything. Kallamar stepped forward until his feet were in Narinder's line of sight.
"I have two little brothers and you are by far the worst of them," Kallamar stated matter-of-factly. "You are egotistical and annoying and a pain in my ass."
Narinder glared upwards, about to make a retort, when Kallamar continued, "However, you are still my brother, and it is clear we are stuck with each other here from now on. We should at least try to get along. Here. Fulfill your curiosity, Nari." He shoved the wooden box into Narinder's hands.
Narinder skeptically shook the box once before opening it. He took the object wrapped in brittle paper and herbs from inside and slowly pulled the paper back.
Inside was a dried, wrinkled, black-and-white spotted--
"By The First God's wounds!" Narinder yelped, dropping the bundle back into the box. Though he hadn't touched the dried flesh, he wiped his hands on his robes regardless.
"Is this a--?" He wrinkled his nose up.
Kallamar cackled. "A charm to increase male potency, yes. The wive's tale goes if one sleeps with a bull's manhood under their pillow it'll help them, well, you know." He clicked his tongue twice and jabbed his thumb up.
Narinder dropped the box as far from him as he could on the bed. He did not know why The Lamb had such a thing, and he did not want to ask.
"Disgusting. " He shuddered. "That can't possibly work."
"Oh, it doesn't," Kallamar shrugged, "but it is not the strangest 'remedy' for that particular problem I have come across. Once, some mortal brought me the foulest concoction I have ever seen, and claimed that was why he and his wife had so many children." Kallamar met Narinder's eyes with a serious expression. "They were rabbits."
The brothers held each other's gazes for a moment longer before their lips started to pull up and they both burst into laughter.
Kallamar wiped fresh tears from his eye. "NarinderâŠhere." He held out his hand. "Let me help you back to your quarters. I'll have someone bring you some tea to help with the pain. I definitely saw some willow barkâŠsomewhere in this mess." He gestured with his head to the table of herbs.
Narinder took his big brother's out stretched hand.
"Thank you, Kallamar."
---
AN:This was techically my first COTL fic, but I didn't finish editing it until recently. Also I have next to no medical knowledge, so those parts might be wrong.
#cult of the lamb#kallamar#narinder#cotl#cult of the lamb fanfic#one shot#cotl narinder#cotl kallamar
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SUBMISSIVE VERSION ~6.393 words
DOM/ME VERSION ~3.885 words
[Inspiration] âĄ
I wake up to the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through the curtains, and the first thing I feel is you. Your presence is a quiet hum of comfort, grounding me before my eyes even open. The bed feels impossibly soft, and Iâm cocooned in our shared havenâour sanctuary. I barely notice the room around me at first, too focused on the steady beat of your breathing beside me and the faint scent of you lingering in the sheets.
I shift slightly, my body still heavy with sleep, as I hear your voiceâlow and soothing, wrapping around me like a gentle caress. "Good morning, my love," you whisper, and the sound alone melts something inside me. I murmur something half-formed, instinctively turning toward you, seeking the warmth and safety I know only you can give. I feel your lips brush against my temple, and my heart stirs even before my body fully does.
"Time to get up, baby. Iâve got everything ready for you." Your words are so soft, so assured, and they fill me with a sense of peace I havenât felt all week. The kind of peace only you can provide.
When my eyes finally flutter open, the first thing I notice is the golden glow bathing the room. The space feels alive with quiet intimacy, like itâs holding its breath just for us. I glance toward the window, the curtains slightly parted just enough to let the morning light kiss the wooden floors. Everything about this room feels like us. The books weâve shared, the small treasures scattered throughoutâa pressed flower, a photo, a painting I made one lazy afternoon. Itâs all here, surrounding me with the tangible reminders of the life weâve built together.
But more than the room, itâs you. Youâre the reason this moment feels sacred to me.
I glance toward the foot of the bed and see the clothes youâve chosen for me: my favorite oversized sweater, the one I always reach for when I need to feel safe, paired with leggings and warm socks. I donât have to think about what to wear. I donât have to think about anything. Youâve already decided for me, thought of every detail, just as you always do. Itâs a small thing, but it feels monumentalâa reminder that I donât have to carry it all. Not here. Not now.
I look back at you, and youâre watching me, propped on one elbow, your eyes warm and steady. You always look at me like this, like Iâm yours and yours alone. Itâs in that gaze that I find myself letting go. The tension in my shoulders, the tightness in my chest from a week of being too much for too manyâit all starts to slip away under the weight of your care.
I donât have to be anything but this. Just yours. Just here. Just us.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice still thick with sleep but full of the gratitude I feel in every part of me. You smile, leaning in to press another kiss to my forehead, and I close my eyes again, savoring it. Today, Iâm not running on empty. Today, Iâm not running at all. You wonât let me.
Today, thereâs no space for me to lose myself in the world. Today, Iâll lose myself in you.
When I walk into the kitchen, the rich, comforting aroma of tea and freshly made food wraps around me like a warm embrace. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows bathes the room in a golden glow, but what draws my attention is you. You're already seated, calm and poised, sipping your tea as though you've been waiting just for me. I hesitate for a moment in the doorway, caught between wanting to stay rooted there and needing to come closer.
You glance up, and the soft smile that curves your lips makes my heart flutter.
"Come here," you say, your voice so soothing, so sure. There's no hesitation in your tone, no room for anything but trust, and I step forward, drawn to you like I always am.
I sit down across from you, my gaze flickering over the table before meeting your steady eyes. I open my mouth to speak, to ask, to say something, but you stop me with a subtle shake of your head. "Set the table for me, baby. No questions. Just do as I say." Your voice is warm but firm, guiding me with that familiar authority that makes me feel safe, even when I'm not sure what you're thinking.
Without a word, I move to obey. My hands work automatically, setting the plates and utensils in their proper places, each movement deliberate and focused. As I do, I can feel your eyes on me, watching every motion with quiet intensity. When you finally speak, your words are soft but powerful. "Good girl."
The praise washes over me, filling me with a quiet pride that feels almost too big to contain. My cheeks grow warm, and I know I'm blushing, but I can't help it. I love being your good girl, love how those words make my heart swell and my body relax all at once.
After breakfast, we move to the living room, the cozy space that feels like a little world we've made for ourselves.
The plush gray sofa, piled high with soft pillows, seems to beckon me. A blanketâour blanket-drapes over the back, always ready for moments like this. The faint scent of lavender fills the air, blending with the gentle hum of music coming from the record player. It's all so perfect, so carefully designed to make me feel calm, cared for, and so utterly yours.
You settle onto the couch and pull me into your lap, your arms wrapping around me in a way that feels both protective and possessive. The blanket comes around us, cocooning me in warmth, and I feel your fingers brushing through my hair. The movie you've chosen is one of my favorites, a story I know by heart, one that lets my mind wander without losing its rhythm. But I'm not paying attention to the screen; all my focus is on you.
Your fingers comb through my hair in slow, soothing strokes, and I melt against you, my body softening with every gentle touch. Your lips press against the top of my head, my temple, the sensitive curve of my neck. Each kiss feels like a quiet promise, a reminder that I'm yours and that this moment is ours.
I can't help the way my hands clutch at your shirt, anchoring myself to you as I feel myself sinking further into this space you've created for me. My gaze drifts to your lips, your collarbone, the graceful lines of your neck and chest. I want to speak, to tell you how much I need this, how much I need you, but the words catch in my throat. It doesn't matter. You already know.
"Good girl," you murmur, your voice so soft it feels like a secret meant just for me. "You're doing so well for me. Just let go."
And I do. The tension l've been carrying all week dissolves into nothingness, leaving me weightless in your arms. My body grows pliant, my breathing slows, and my thoughts fade until there's nothing left but the feeling of you-your touch, your voice, the steady rhythm of your heart.
In this space, there's no need for words, no need for control. There's only surrender, quiet and blissful, and the warmth of knowing I'm exactly where I belong: with you.
The bathroom you later decide to go to with me is warm and inviting, the soft glow of candlelight reflecting off the tiled walls. The air is filled with the soothing scent of vanilla and sandalwood, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. The tub is already filled, steam curling upward, and youâre there, your hands steady and sure as they guide me closer. Every detail feels intentional, like itâs been created just for me, to ease away the tension I didnât realize I was still holding.
You help me into the bath, your hands firm on my waist, and I feel the warmth of the water envelop me. Itâs not just the heat that relaxes me; itâs you. Your presence is grounding, your care palpable in every motion. As your hands follow the water over my skin, I canât help the way my breath hitches. Your touch is slow, deliberate, reverent. You linger just enough to remind me who I belong to, and I can feel my cheeks growing warm, a blush creeping across my skin. I know you noticeâI know you always noticeâand when your eyes meet mine, the heat in your gaze only deepens my surrender.
Then you murmur, "Do you want Mommy to dry you off?"
The question catches me off guard, and I gasp softly, my lips parting as the meaning sinks in. My blush deepens instantly, the warmth spreading from my cheeks all the way down to my chest. I can barely find the words, so I nod instead, unable to do anything else under the weight of your gaze. Your smile is soft, knowing, and it makes my heart stutter in my chest.
"You know how to make Mommy happy, donât you, baby?" you whisper, your voice low and intimate as you wrap me in a towel. The fabric is soft against my skin, but itâs your arms around me that truly make me feel safe. I lean into you, my body sinking into your embrace. Every thought, every worry, every piece of myself that feels too muchâyou take it all away, leaving only the quiet hum of belonging.
And as the evening drifts on, you lead me to the bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a golden hue over the space. The towel is still wrapped around me as I sit on the edge of the bed, the satin nightgown you laid out resting beside me. My fingers brush against the fabric for a moment, but I hesitate. My mind feels so soft, so quiet, that even the idea of dressing myself feels like too much. I glance at you instead, silently waiting, knowing youâll guide me. You always do.
"Stand up, baby," you say softly, your voice steady and soothing. The command flows over me like water, and I obey without a second thought, rising to my feet with a quietness that feels natural under your gaze. You pick up the nightgown, the silky fabric sliding through your fingers before you lift it over my head. The touch of the material against my skin is cool at first, but your hands are warm as they smooth the gown over my shoulders and down my sides. Your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary, your fingers brushing against my skin, and I shiver, a soft sigh escaping my lips.
When your eyes meet mine, I feel that familiar warmth flood through me again, the blush creeping back as your fingers tilt my chin up. Your lips find mine, soft and commanding, and I melt into the kiss, letting it ground me even further. When you pull back, your gaze holds me steady.
"Perfect," you murmur, the word like a balm against my quiet insecurities. "You're absolutely perfect."
In that moment, I believe you. Because with you, I am.
The bedroom feels warm, wrapped in a quiet intimacy that settles over me like a second skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a golden light across the walls, highlighting the delicate, familiar details of this space we share. The air is a mix of lavender and sandalwood, lingering from the bath we took earlier, but more than anything, itâs the scent of you that grounds me, that keeps me present in this moment.
You guide me to the bed, your hands firm but gentle as you help me settle onto my back. The cool satin of my nightgown clings to my skin, and I can feel your eyes roaming over me, drinking me in. I blush under your gaze, the intensity of it making my body feel both exposed and cherished. The emerald green fabric feels almost decadent against my skin, the way it drapes and clings to every curve making me feel utterly beautiful, even before you speak a word.
The thin straps have slipped slightly from my shoulders, and the cool air brushes against the places where the fabric doesnât quite cover. My thighs are bare, and the hem of the gown rests just above them, teasingly short, almost too much. I can feel how much youâre taking in, how youâre savoring the sight of me, and it makes my heart race, my breathing shallow.
But then thereâs you. Youâre still partially dressed, your shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely over your shoulders. My eyes keep flickering to your chest, exposed just enough to make my pulse quicken.
I can feel my chest rising and falling quickly as I lie there, clutching at the duvet like itâs the only thing tethering me to the bed. But itâs not the duvet holding me steadyâitâs you. Itâs always you.
You lean over me, your palms pressing into the mattress on either side of my head, caging me in with your body. Your lips brush against my ear, and your voice, low and commanding, sends a shiver down my spine. "Look at me, baby," you say softly, and I obey instantly, tilting my head up to meet your gaze. Your eyes hold me captive, and I know Iâm completely undone, completely yours. I canât hide how far Iâve fallen into this space youâve created for me, how my mind feels hazy, my body soft and pliant beneath your touch. My lips part as if to speak, but no words come. I donât need to say anythingâyou already know.
"Look at you," you whisper, your thumb brushing over my bottom lip, and the touch makes my breath catch. "Youâre so far gone, arenât you, my sweet girl? So soft, so obedient, just the way I like you." Your words make my body melt further into the bed, and I nod faintly, trembling under the weight of your attention. Every part of me is laid bare for you, and I can feel your love, your care, in every word, every touch.
"My perfect little plaything," you murmur, your voice like a warm caress, and then your lips find mine. The kiss is soft at first, tender and grounding, but it deepens quickly, turning possessive and commanding. I respond without thought, my hands clutching at your shirt as though holding onto you is the only thing that matters. My breath hitches as you press closer, your body warm and solid against mine.
Your hand trails down my side, your touch featherlight and teasing, and I canât stop the soft whimper that escapes my lips. The sound feels raw, unfiltered, but you love itâI can see it in the way your eyes darken, in the way your lips curve into a knowing smile against mine. That sound, that surrender-it's all for you.
Everything I am in this moment is for you.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
"You donât have to think about anything," you whisper against my lips, and the sound of your voice melts through me, soft and commanding all at once. Your hand is slow and deliberate as it trails lower, and I feel every inch of its path, like itâs leaving a mark on my skin. "You donât have to do anything. Just let me take care of you."
I nod, a trembling motion I canât quite control, the weight of your words sinking into me, making my body feel impossibly soft and malleable beneath your touch. "Thatâs good," you murmur, and the way your tone wraps around me, warm and possessive, sends a shiver through my body. Itâs a reaction I canât hideânot from you, not everâand the way your lips curve into the faintest smile tells me you already know.
Your hand trails down my side, fingers grazing the curve of my waist and teasing the sensitive dip of my hip. Itâs so gentle, yet it leaves my body trembling, my breath catching as you linger just long enough to make me ache. When a soft, helpless whimper escapes me, I see the way your eyes darken, your breath catching just as mine does. You lean down, brushing a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then to the hollow of my throat. "Iâm so proud of you," you murmur against my skin, and those words, so quiet and so full of meaning, make me feel like I might come undone right there.
"Always so good for me. Always so ready to give me everything."
I feel the weight of your body as you shift, pressing closer to me, grounding me in the warmth and solidity of you. Your hand moves lower, slipping under the hem of my satin nightgown, and I canât stop the soft gasp that escapes my lips. My hands clutch the sheets, twisting them in my fingers as I try to hold onto somethingâanythingâto keep myself steady. But thereâs nothing steady about this moment, about the way my body arches instinctively toward your touch, about the trembling breaths that I canât quite control.
"Youâre so soft like this," you whisper, your lips brushing against my ear. Your voice carries that quiet, commanding tone that makes me shiver. "So pliable, so obedient. I could do anything I want to you, and youâd let me, wouldnât you, baby?"
My cheeks burn as I nod again, the movement small, hesitant, but undeniable. The blush spreading across my skin feels impossibly hot, but your smileâsoft against my skinâonly deepens the sensation, making me feel even more exposed in the best way.
When your fingers slip away from the hem of my gown, I almost whimper again, my body leaning toward you instinctively, aching for the loss of your touch. But youâre not done with meâof course youâre not. Your fingers glide down my arm, featherlight, teasing, until they catch the thin strap of my nightgown. You tug it down slowly, baring one of my shoulders, then the other, your lips following the motion of your hand. Each kiss leaves my skin buzzing, every touch making me sink deeper into this space youâve created for me.
"You look so beautiful in this," you murmur, your voice low and full of quiet command. "But I think Iâd like you even better out of it."
Your words send a fresh wave of heat through me, and I watch you as you sit back on your knees, your hands moving with deliberate care as you slide the satin down my body. Inch by inch, you expose my skin, and I can feel your eyes on every part of me, taking me in as though this is the first time youâve seen me like this.
The air feels cooler against my bare skin, but your gaze burns, leaving no room for the chill to linger. Iâm completely exposed beneath you now, my body warm and trembling, my thighs pressing together as though I can somehow ease the ache building inside me. But I know thereâs no reliefânot until you decide to give it to me. I can see it in your eyes, that possessive, unshakable certainty that makes my breath catch.
I glance up at you, my lips parting as though to speak, but the words donât come. I donât need to say anything. I know you can see itâthe way my body quivers under your gaze, the way I look at you with complete trust, complete surrender.
"You donât have to hide from me," you say softly, your voice so warm and sure it melts through me. I feel your hands slide down my sides, your fingers grazing those sensitive spots that make me shiver. The way you touch me, the way you speakâitâs like youâre peeling back every layer of me until thereâs nothing left but this: soft, open, and completely yours. "You donât have to think. Just let me take care of you."
Your words ground me, soothe me, and all I can do is nod, letting myself sink further into the moment. When you lean down, your lips press against mine in a kiss that starts soft, teasing, like a question you already know the answer to. But then it deepens, your tongue sweeping against mine with a claiming intensity that leaves me breathless. I canât help the soft moan that escapes me, my hands instinctively clutching at your shirt, needing something to hold onto. Every touch, every kiss from you feels electric, like my body was made for thisâmade for you.
Your lips trail lower, leaving a path of warmth and fire along my neck, my collarbone, my chest. My breath quickens, my body arching into your touch as though it has a mind of its own. Your hands are everywhereâfirm, deliberate, possessiveâas they trace the curve of my waist, the softness of my thighs. When you spread my legs, I feel my blush deepen, the vulnerability of the moment making my chest flutter. But I donât resist. I could never resist you.
"Youâve been so perfect for me today," you murmur, your voice like a caress as you press a kiss to the inside of my thigh. The sensation sends a shiver through me, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "Always so eager to please. Do you know how much I love you like this?"
I nod, my voice trembling as I manage to whisper, "Yes, mommy." Saying the words makes me feel small and safe in a way I canât explain, and the way your eyes light up in response fills me with warmth.
"Good girl," you say, and the praise hits me like a wave, making me melt further into the bed. Your voice is low, full of promise and control, and it sends a thrill through me. "Iâm going to take care of you tonight. You donât have to do anything but be mine."
I let out a shaky breath as you lean down again, brushing your lips against mine in a kiss thatâs soft but lingering, like youâre reminding me that Iâm exactly where I belong. Your hand trails over my cheek, gentle and grounding, and I turn into your touch, unable to stop myself from seeking the comfort you so effortlessly provide.
"Stay here," you murmur, your voice low and commanding, the kind of tone that leaves no room for anything but obedience. "Donât move. Keep those pretty legs right where they are for me, baby."
I nod again, my body already trembling under the weight of your words, my thighs instinctively pressing together before I stop myself. You smileâsoft, knowing, and entirely in controlâand I feel the way my body relaxes, giving itself over to you completely. There's no room for thought, no room for hesitation. There's only you, and the quiet surrender that makes me feel so perfectly yours.
My heart feels like itâs going to burst out of my chest, my breathing uneven as I watch you lean down, pressing one last soft, grounding kiss to my temple. That simple touch steadies me, even as anticipation buzzes through my entire body.
Then you rise, leaving me lying there, small and soft and completely exposed under your gaze. My eyes follow you instinctively, wide and adoring, unable to tear away as you stand above me, the shift in power between us making my pulse quicken. Thereâs something about the way you look down at meâwith that quiet, unshakable authorityâthat makes me feel utterly yours in a way thatâs both thrilling and terrifying in its intensity.
You move to the corner of the room, to the dresser, and the sound of the drawer opening fills the quiet space. I donât move, I couldnât even if I wanted to. I just watch, my body frozen in a mixture of anticipation and need as your hands find the harness and strap. The faint creak of leather as you fasten the buckles seems impossibly loud in the stillness, and my breath hitches as I realize whatâs about to happen.
I canât look away. My eyes are glued to your hands, the way they move over the leather with practiced ease, the way you adjust each strap with deliberate care. I can feel my blush deepening, the heat crawling up my neck and into my cheeks as I watch you prepare yourself. My breathing grows heavier, my chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, and I can feel my thighs shifting of their own accord, trying to press together, though I know it wonât offer me any relief.
The harness wraps around you perfectly, dark leather fitting snugly against your body, framing your hips in a way that feels almost too powerful to look at. The strap is sleek and smooth, intimidating but not overwhelming, and itâs impossible not to be hyper-aware of every detail. You adjust the buckles one last time, making sure everything is just so, and then you turn back to me.
Our eyes meet, and the intensity in your gaze makes me feel like Iâm going to melt into the bed. Thereâs something in the way you look at meâa mixture of power and affection, desire and controlâthat leaves me trembling. My chest tightens, my breath catching as my thighs press together again without thinking, a futile attempt to calm the ache growing inside me.
You smirk, and the deliberate confidence in that simple expression makes my whole body feel like itâs on fire. I watch, transfixed, as you cross the room back to me, every step slow and measured, every movement exuding a power that leaves me breathless. My eyes canât stop drinking you in, the way the harness hugs your body, the way you carry yourself with such deliberate authority. Itâs overwhelming, and yet, I canât imagine looking away.
You stop at the edge of the bed, standing over me, and the weight of your gaze makes me tremble. My body feels small, pliant, and completely exposed to you, and I know you can see itâthe way I shiver under your eyes, the way I grip the duvet just a little tighter, trying to keep myself from falling apart too soon.
"I think youâve earned a reward, donât you?" Your voice is soft but steady, laced with that quiet authority that makes me want to do nothing but obey. The words make my heart race, my body arching slightly without even meaning to, and all I can do is nod, unable to find my voice.
I nod quickly, my eyes darting between your face and the strap, my cheeks burning with a blush I canât control. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel utterly exposed, trembling under your steady, knowing gaze.
"You canât speak, baby?" you murmur, your voice soft but laced with power. I shiver as your fingers trail along the curve of my thigh, the touch light but commanding, pulling a quiet whimper from my lips. "Do you want this? Do you want me to fill you, to remind you who you belong to?"
"Y-Yes," I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible, shaky with anticipation. My body feels like itâs humming, my mind soft and pliant, and your smile sends a thrill through meâa mixture of tenderness and control that makes me melt even more.
You climb onto the bed with deliberate grace, settling between my legs, and I feel the press of the harness against my skin as you lower yourself over me. The weight of you is grounding, the warmth of your body pulling me deeper into this space where nothing else exists but you. Your hands frame my face, your touch firm but gentle as you tilt my chin up so our eyes meet. I canât look away. The intensity of your gaze holds me completely, and when your lips find mine, the kiss is slow, possessive, leaving no doubt in my mind that Iâm yours.
"Youâre mine," you murmur against my lips, the words a quiet promise that settles deep in my chest. "Every inch of you belongs to me."
I nod again, the motion small and trembling, and you smile, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. The praise that follows, "Good girl," feels like it wraps around me, sinking into my skin. I let out a shaky breath, surrendering completely as you whisper, "Now, let me take care of you."
I feel you guide yourself against me, the strap sliding along my wetness, teasing and deliberate. My body arches instinctively, my hands clutching at the sheets as soft, desperate sounds escape my lips. The ache inside me is overwhelming, and I canât stop the quiet moans that rise as you take your time, coaxing every bit of need from me.
"So responsive," you murmur, your voice filled with quiet admiration as your hand cups my cheek. Your gaze meets mine, and the love and control I see there make me feel like I could cry from the intensity of it. "Youâre perfect like this, baby. Completely mine."
When you finally push into me, itâs slow and deliberate, every inch a reminder of your ownership, of how fully I belong to you. I gasp softly, my back arching as my body adjusts, the fullness grounding me and pushing me further into surrender. You still for a moment, your hands steady on my hips, your presence calming and reassuring.
"Youâre doing so well," you whisper, your voice gentle, like a balm. The kiss you press to my temple makes my chest ache with how much I love you. "You take me so perfectly, my love."
The rhythm you set is slow at first, teasing and deliberate, pulling soft gasps and quiet whimpers from my lips with every movement. Your hands grip my thighs, keeping me open for you, and I feel completely vulnerable, completely exposedâbut safe, so utterly safe in your hands.
My chest rises and falls quickly, my breaths uneven as my body responds to you without hesitation. Every motion, every touch, every word you murmur feels like itâs unraveling me, drawing me closer to something I canât quite name but trust you to lead me to.
"Thatâs it," you murmur, your voice low and steady, a grounding force in the haze. "Let go for me, baby. Let me take you where you need to go."
And I do. I let go of everything-every thought, every hesitation, every piece of myself that doesn't belong in this moment. My body moves with yours, my breath catching on every gasp, every moan that escapes me, and all I can feel, all I can be, is yours.
As the pace quickens, the room fills with the sound of us moving together, the rhythm of our bodies blending with the heat of your whispered praise. My head spins, my breath coming in shallow gasps as your voice cuts through the haze, grounding me, owning me. Your lips find mine, the kiss possessive and deep, stealing what little breath I have left. One hand tangles in my hair, holding me in place, while the other steadies me, keeping me anchored beneath you.
"Youâre so good for me," you whisper against my lips, your voice low and full of intent. "So perfect. My good girl."
The words make my chest tighten, a flood of warmth rushing through me that only fuels the fire already consuming me. My moans spill out louder now, raw and unrestrained, mixing with the steady rhythm of your movements. I feel completely exposed, utterly vulnerable, and yet, Iâve never felt safer than I do in this moment, beneath you, yours.
Your hands slide up my body, your fingers brushing along the curve of my waist, the swell of my chest, before settling on my hips. The pressure of your grip is firm, commanding, keeping me exactly where you want me, holding me steady as you move with deliberate purpose. Every thrust feels like a claim, and my body arches instinctively, desperate to give you everything you ask for.
My head falls back against the pillows, exposing my throat to you, and the moment your lips press there, I shiver, gasping as your teeth graze just enough to leave a spark of sensation behind. Your breath is hot against my skin as you murmur, "I love you," and the tenderness in your voice makes my heart ache, even as my body burns for more. "Youâre always so good. Always what I need."
Your words fill me completely, making me tremble with a mix of love and surrender. My hands reach for you, clutching at your back, your arms, anything I can hold onto to keep myself grounded as wave after wave of sensation crashes over me. My fingers curl into you, nails pressing into your skin, and I feel your body respond to my touch, your movements becoming even more deliberate.
Then your hand tilts my chin up, and my hazy eyes meet yours. The intensity in your gaze holds me captive, and the vulnerability you find in mine makes me feel like I might unravel entirely. My chest tightens with love, my body trembling as I try to keep my focus, to give you everything youâre asking for.
"Look at me," you command softly, your voice steady but laced with a quiet power I could never resist. "Donât look away. I want to see you when you fall apart."
I nod, barely able to manage the motion, my lips parting as if to speak, but no words come. The only sound I can make is a sharp gasp when you adjust your angle, your movements suddenly hitting the perfect spot. My body arches involuntarily, a cry escaping my lips as the pleasure rushes through me.
"There it is," you murmur, your voice filled with satisfaction as your lips curve into a knowing smile. "Thatâs my girl. Take it for me. Let me see how good I can make you feel."
Your words push me closer to the edge, your touch guiding me, commanding me, as my body responds to you with complete surrender. I donât think, I don't hold back-there's nothing but this moment, nothing but you. The way you look at me, the way you move, the way you call me yours-it all consumes me, pulling me under, until there's nothing left but the bliss of falling apart for you.
Your breath comes in short, uneven gasps, my hands clutching desperately at the sheets as you push me closer and closer to the edge. My body feels like itâs on fire, every nerve ending alive and attuned to you. I canât stop the way my legs tremble around you, the way your name falls from my lips like a prayer, broken and pleading. "Youâre so close, arenât you, baby?" you ask, your voice low and filled with promise, and the sound sends a fresh wave of shivers through me. "Let go for me. I want to feel you fall apart."
Your words tip me over the edge. With a shuddering gasp, I give in completely, letting myself unravel for you, my body and mind wholly yours in this moment. The release washes over me like a wave, overwhelming and all-encompassing, and the only thing grounding me is you. The way you hold me, the steadiness of your presenceâit keeps me safe even as I fall apart.
My body tenses for a moment, every muscle tightening under the force of my climax, and then I melt beneath you, soft and trembling. My cries fill the air, raw and unrestrained, and I know you hear them, know theyâre for you. You keep your hands steady on my hips, your movements slowing just enough to guide me through the waves of release, letting me ride them until thereâs nothing left but quiet, blissful surrender.
"Thatâs it," you whisper, your lips brushing against my ear, your voice soft and full of love. "So beautiful. So perfect."
Your words make my chest ache in the best way, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment and everything to do with the way you see me. The way you know me.
When you finally still, Iâm trembling, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. My body feels soft, pliant, completely spent beneath you, but your touch keeps me grounded. You press gentle kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, and each one feels like a tether, pulling me back to you, back to safety.
"You did so well for me," you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. Your voice is tender, full of pride and affection, and the words make me feel like Iâve given you something meaningful, something precious. "Iâm so proud of you, my love."
You pull out slowly, carefully, your movements so deliberate that even the slight loss feels gentle. I canât help the soft whimper that escapes me, my body already missing the fullness of you, and my hands instinctively reach for you, needing to feel you close. You smileâa soft, knowing smile that makes me feel so deeply seen-and you gather me into your arms without hesitation.
The blanket comes around us as you settle back onto the bed, holding me against your chest, and I relax into you completely. My head rests on your shoulder, your steady heartbeat grounding me in the aftermath. Your fingers stroke through my hair in slow, soothing motions, your voice soft and reassuring as you murmur, "You're safe. You're mine. You've always been mine."
And I believe you. I always will. In your arms, I know I'm exactly where I belong.
#bd/sm mommy#mommy#domme mommy#mommy k!nk#bd/sm blog#lesbian nsft#bd/sm community#sapphic nsft#bd/sm relationship#lesbian#sapphic smut#sapphic#lesbian yearning#lesbian smut#wlw mommy#wlw yearning#wlw nsft#wlw smut#wlw community#wlw post#wlw blog#wlw love#wlw ns/fw#wlw#wlw sub#queer ns/fw#ns/fw community#ns/fw content#ns/fw blog#dumbification
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Summary: Years pass in a steady rhythm of the usual tasksârepairing fences, tending the garden, and surviving in solitude. Life is quiet and predictable, yet heavy with the absence of the people who once made the town feel alive.
present tense, since we are now in present day
The sun beats down, relentless and heavy, as you crouch by the south fence. Sweat drips down your temple, pooling at the collar of your shirt before soaking into the fabric. The fence is a mess again, a sagging stretch of wire that looks like itâs been held together by sheer stubbornness alone.
You mutter under your breath, wedging the pliers into the rusted wire and pulling hard. The metal groans in protest, the tension vibrating through your arms as you strain to pull it taut.
âCome on,â you growl, planting your boot against the post for leverage. With one last yank, the wire snaps into place, and you sag back onto your heels, panting.
The southern fence is always trouble, a constant thorn in your side no matter how many times you reinforce it. Youâve fixed it so many times, you could probably do it blindfolded by now. But itâs necessary. Itâs what keeps the town secure, what keeps the infectedâand worseâfrom wandering too close.
You swipe your arm across your brow, leaving a streak of dirt in your wake. The air is thick with the smell of sunbaked earth and rusted metal, the heat rising in shimmering waves off the ground. A faint breeze stirs the grass, offering momentary relief from the oppressive warmth.
Standing, you stretch out your back, wincing as your muscles protest. You survey your work, the repaired section of fence gleaming faintly in the sunlight. Itâs not perfect, but it will hold. For now.
The town of Lincoln, though it's been a long time since you've called it that, sprawls out behind you, quiet and still except for the occasional creak of an old shutter in the breeze and the hum of the generators. Itâs been years since the place felt alive. Sure, the traps sometimes catch stray infected, but other than that, itâs just you. Alone.
You tell yourself you like it this way. No complications, no surprises. Just tasks to complete and days to get through. Food to grow, fences to fix, supplies to scavenge. It keeps you busy.
The hum of the generators reaches your ears, a low, steady rhythm that underscores your life here. The quiet doesnât bother you anymore. Itâs a different kind of noiseâone you can live with.
After hauling the tools back to the shed and washing the dirt from your hands, you find yourself standing by the graves. The two mounds are covered in years of grass, marked with wooden crosses weathered by rain and sun. You carved their names into the wood yourself, the letters rough and uneven. The task had taken you days.
The first few months after they were gone, you came here every day. The visits have started to space out over the years, though you still find yourself here more often than youâd like to admit.
âFixed the fence today,â you say, breaking the silence as you set down your bow and quiver of arrows. Your voice sounds strange in the stillness, rough from disuse. âSouth side, of course. Always falling apart. Think I finally got it to hold this time, but who knows.â
You crouch down, brushing away the leaves that have gathered at the base of the markers. The damp earth smells rich and sharp, clinging to your fingertips.
âOne of the chickens got out the other day, but I managed to track her down just outside the boutique. Little thing was so proud of herself, I bet.â You chuckle. âOh, and I got the artichokes to grow. Took forever, though. Greedy little bastards. They take up so much space, but damn, theyâre good.â
You let out a faint laugh, though it catches in your throat. âFinally gonna roast some tonight. Thought about trying one of your recipes, butâŠâ
Your words trail off as a lump forms in your throat, heavy and unrelenting. You stare at the cross with Frankâs name etched into it, your hands curling into fists.
âIâll figure it out,â you mutter after a moment, though the words feel thin.
Your fingers idly pick at the hem of your jacket as you sit back on your heels. âHavenât heard from Tess or Joel in a while. Radioâs been quiet. Donât know what that means. Bostonâs probably gone by now.â
The weight of that truth settles on your chest. You stare at the graves for a long moment, the silence stretching out around you.
You picture them, Frankâs warm smile as he sits on the grassy earth in front of his cross, asking how youâre doing. Your dadâs scowl might have softened, though heâd be scrutinizing every line in your face when you respond.
âIâm fine,â you say finally, your voice softer. âIâm managing. Keeping things running, keeping busy. Just like youâd want.â
The quiet presses in around you, and for a long moment, you simply sit there, your eyes fixed on the crosses. The ache in your chest is familiar now, an old companion youâve learned to carry without complaint.
Finally, you push yourself to your feet, brushing the dirt from your hands and glancing back toward the house. The lantern by the kitchen window casts a faint glow, the warmth of it beckoning against the growing chill.
âIâll stop by tomorrow,â you mutter, turning toward the path.
The house is quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the low hum of the monitors at the far end of the table. You sit with your plate in front of you, a simple meal of roasted artichokes and rabbit. The artichokes arenât perfectâslightly bitter despite the care you put into growing themâbut you eat them anyway. Waste isnât an option.
Across from you, the flickering screens display grainy black-and-white footage from the security cameras positioned along the property. The south fence looks clean and steady, a reminder of the hours you spent earlier in the day. The northwest corner is darker, partially obscured by overgrown branches you keep meaning to cut back.
You chew slowly, your fork scraping faintly against the plate. The rabbit is gamey, but it pairs well with the artichokes. Youâll never get it to taste like your dadâs cooking, but you like to think Frank would be proud of how far youâve come with the garden.
Reaching for the glass at your side, you take a sip of water, your eyes drifting to the monitor showing the front gate. Nothing. Just the same empty road youâve seen for years. Itâs not comforting, exactly, but itâs not unsettling either. Just the way things are.
When your plate is clean, you stand and carry it to the sink, rinsing it under the warm tap. The smell of roasted vegetables still lingers in the air as you wipe down the counter, setting everything back in its proper place.
When you step into your room that night, the warm glow from the hallway spills across the wooden floor, catching on the edge of the envelope sitting on your dresser. The paper is slightly yellowed now, the edges curling from the years itâs spent untouched. Your name is written in bold, messy lettersâyour dadâs handwriting.
You pause, your hand brushing against the edge of the dresser as your eyes linger on the envelope. Itâs been there for so long, a fixture in a room where everything else has been tidied, repaired, or replaced. Youâd considered opening it once, in the early days, but the thought of what might be inside had kept your fingers still.
You exhale through your nose and turn away, pulling back the covers on the bed. The mattress gives a soft creak under your weight as you sit down, pulling off your boots and setting them neatly beside the nightstand. The faint hum of the generator carries through the walls, a reminder of the world youâve kept running.
The envelope stays where itâs always been, untouched on the dresser as you climb under the blankets and reach for the lamp. The bold, uneven letters of your name burn in your retinas as darkness swallows the room.
#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#tlou#the last of us hbo#ellie and joel#tlou hbo#tlou game#Joel miller#Joel miller x reader#Joel miller x you#Joel miller fanfic#Joel miller fanfiction#Joel miller tlou#joel miller the last of us#tlou joel#joel tlou#joel x reader
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Long post so not sure wheter or not you will read it, but there's a retelling of the myth of Perseus for kids by Imme Dros: De huiveringwekkende mythe van Perseu. The book is in german, so I will point put some bits from it that I liked and some rough translations of the fragments by me.
1) Here it's said that Acrisius thought Perseus is the son of his twin brother, not of Zeus. This is the first time for me when I see a book aimed for kids about Perseus that mentions Proteus too. Also, it is mentioned that Acrisius imprisoned Danaë back when she was only 13.
"King Akrisios heard him crying under his feet. Furious, he had Danaë taken from her prison.
'Who is that child? Whose child is that and who is the father?'
'This is Perseus, I am his mother and Zeus is his father.'
'Zeus the father? You must mean my twin brother. Of course he seduced you. To take my land! He is not satisfied with his own area, he wants everything. He has sons and now he is also claiming my grandson.'
(King Akrisios and his brother were born fighting, already fought in their mother's womb, already hated each other before they saw the light and they didn't trust each other for a fathom.)"
2) Danaë wants to educate child Perseus, but all he thinks about is fishing. She wants him to know about the gods, to which Perseus tells her that the only god he has to know about is Poseidon. Danaë then tells him that he will be the King of Argos one day so he must know about the gods too. Little Perseus's favorite god is Hermes, so he constantly asks his mom to tell him more about him:
"Diktys taught young Perseus all about ships, sails and oars and everything he needed to know about water, wind and current to become a decent fisherman. Danaë wanted to teach him everything about the gods. Perseus had no patience for that. He protested:
'I go to sea and I only need to know Poseidon, that is the god of the sea, that is the god of fishermen.'
'But you will not remain a fisherman, Perseus. You will be a king! King of Argos. Kings should know the gods.'
'Well, then tell me the adventures of Hermes. Hermes is also a god and he always wins, that's exciting,' Perseus demanded, but his mother kept trying.
'Soon from Hermes. Listen now, Perseus. First there was Chaos. Everything came from Chaos... Say, are you listening, Perseus?'
'Yes, I hear it. But now from Hermes. Now from Hermes again.'
'Soon from Hermes. This is important. You need to know this. Everything comes from the great, fierce, dark Chaos...'
3) When Polydectes saw Danaë for the first time he thought she's Artemis and started to worship her for a moment:
"A powerful king ruled on the island of Serifos who oppressed and sucked his people, Polydectes. He was Diktys' brother and just as bad as he was good. About the time Perseus became a man came Polydectes meets the lovely Danaë during a hunt through the forest. At first he thought she was Artemis, the goddess of hunters, and he fell down before her. When he noticed she was human, he demanded that she become his lawful wife. Danaë didn't want to."
4) At the beginning of his journey Perseus arrives for the first time in Athens, where he starts crying because of how beautiful the city was:
"Who stood shouting loudly in the middle of Athens could just reach a man near the walls with his voice. So the city was not allowed to get any bigger, that would be a danger. Perseus cried his eyes out. What a square, what houses, what a beautiful temple, what a mighty theater. That such a thing could exist. And oh, what people. He would get an answer to his question here, that was certain. But in the busy market of Athens no one could help him.
'Did you say Gorgons?'
'Gorgons? No, I wouldn't know.'
'No, you shouldn't be with us.'
'Go ask that in Delfi. Everyone goes there and that's why it must be good. Anyone who has a question and wants an answer always goes to Delfi.'
'Delfi, go to Delfi.'
5) They go by the version where Medusa was a beautiful mortal woman once. The difference is that here she willingly has sex with Poseidon in Athena's temple, and when she asks her how dare she do such thing Medusa tells her that Poseidon loves her and wants to marry her and she will soon become her aunt, so she should be nice with her from now on. This is the moments when Athena gets angry and turns her into a gorgon.
"[Medusa] made no apologies and bragged about her affair.
'If Poseidon marries me then I will be your aunt, Athena. He has more power than you, so don't worry about that temple.'
Pride comes before a fall, let people realize this very well! No matter how one excels, modesty is always required. They will never become gods, they just don't want to understand that. [...] A single bad trait can undo all the good that a mortal received. Gods hate pride and it was for her pride that Medusa had to pay, even though she was a nymph and the daughter of Forkys, the sea god."
6) We get to see the moments where Athena teaches Perseus how to fight while looking and his shield, whereas Hermes teaches him how to fly with those sandals:
"With the shield in her hands, Athena came to Perseus and she said to him, the goddess with the sea-green eyes:
'Never look directly at a Gorgon, look into this shield and look for her image, just remember that the right is the left in it.'
Perseus practiced diligently for the battle with Medusa, aimed in the shining shield at trees and rocks. Hard enough, it took him days to hit anything. He also had to learn to fly. With trial and error. Hermes held his hand and it took a while before he managed to keep his balance during take off and descent, before it flew straight and could make a quick turn. Flying seemed so easy when you saw birds flying,
but Perseus would never become a swift or a seagull. When he became more confident in floating and not every nymph anymore was crooked with laughter as he sailed past, Hermes announced that it was time to leave. And the merry nymphs wept loudly at parting."
7) The Perseus and Andromeda moments are sweet but cute. Also, here Andromeda and her family live in Joppa:
"Now Joppa was in charge because Perseus demanded the bride, but the man with the oldest rights came with an army.
To make a long story short: Medusa's head
served well again because every enemy petrified. Perseus and Andromeda were married that same day. He loved her and she loved him so they were happy The celebration of the great wedding in Joppa lasted ten days."
"King Cepheus made the cupbearer go round again, then each guest left for his own house to sleep. But the king slept in the palace next to Kasiopeia, and Andromeda shared her bed with her bridegroom Perseus."
8) Perseus also traveled in the Underworld before arriving in Joppa. At his wedding he tells the quest about what he saw in the realm of Hades and even tells the myth of the seasons at one point for some reason (but I won't include it as well because it's too long):
"Nowhere is the water as deep as where the water is separates the living from the dead. Five rivers flow between us and the poor, unfortunate shadows. When I looked at the grave lily meadows it seemed as if I
just like the Gorgons looked into a mirrored shield, but outside that shield was none of what was reflected. I saw the
images of people, but the people themselves were nowhere. And I saw those shadows of people nowhere present stagger across the meadows and report to the entrance where the Dog sat. He let the shadows pass, but when one wanted to go out he shook his three heads. Whether they were old, whether they were young, inside was inside. There in the depths Haides and Persefoneia rule."
"On the edge of Tartaros, that is the deepest depth, houses the goddesses of revenge, who continue to persecute people if they have committed crimes. Their faces and claws, horrible to see, something I will never be able to forget. The Harpies are also monstrously ugly, fast as the storm wind they fly about to torment the dead, to provoke the people. They have heads like women, bodies and wings like birds, claws like tigers. When a man has insulted a god come the cruel Harpies. They pollute his food, shit on his plate and piss in his cup.
Until he dies of hunger at crowded, smelly tables. And I saw Sleep and his brother Death far away walking at the gates where all dreams come through."
"...daughters of my father Danaus, bear water to a great and bottomless barrel in leaking jars.These women killed their husbands the night after the wedding day. When I saw the poor shadows dragging the leaky jars my eyes became blind with tears, I couldn't bear it. And I became afraid of everything that could happen to myself. Suddenly I wanted to leave and I would prefer to forget everything what I saw there under the dark earth."
9) There's a short moment where, turning back to Argos, Danaë visits the chamber where she was imprisoned years ago:
"King Akrisios heard the news and his bad conscience drove him away from Argos to a city in the north. He had friends there in Larissa, he was safe there. So when Perseus arrived with his wife and his mother, he found in Argos an empty palace and no one could say where old king Akrisios had gone, whether he was alive or perhaps dead and under the earth. Danaë showed her son the underground dungeon,
dark and gloomy with bronze doors and no windows. And she visited the places where she had played as a girl. When they were on the beach of the sea just like a long time ago laid flowers of pebbles, she cried bitter tears. Because her life had turned out differently than she had hoped."
Why are all the interesting Perseus adaptations not available in English?
#greek mythology#ancient greek mythology#greek pantheon#perseus#andromeda#Athena#Medusa#Danae#Danaë#Acrisius
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Insanity
Chapter 2 : Torture Avails
Featuring : The Salesman x F!Reader.
TW : ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT, HARASSMENT (Not by the Salesman), CRUDE REMARKS, BAD LANGUAGE, EXPLETIVES, MENTIONS OF TORTURE, THE SALESMAN COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNINGS, DARK THEMES.
Do not read if you feel uncomfortable with the above terms given.
The characters do not belong to me except the reader. This is an original plot idea do not steal or modify the scenario created down below.
Summary : After putting you to sleep, he stealthily made his way to the bastard of a boss to pay him a sweet visit.
Masterlist.
Previous >> Chapter 1 : The Snapped Thread.
After making sure you were asleep wrapped up like a comfy burrito and giving you a sweet fond kiss on your temple. He sets out to the company you worked at and eerily enters like he owned the company and looked up to see the the topmost floor still lit up at 2:00 a.m. and enters the elevator as as the door was about to close he gave feral grin before the elevator doors closed fully.
As you slept, curled up in the safety of your home, the Salesmanâs mind raced. The sight of your distress had awakened something dark and primal inside him, something that couldn't be soothed by words alone. The idea that anyoneâespecially someone in a position of powerâhad made you feel small, worthless, had pushed him past the point of reason.
The elevator doors opened with a ding and he walked like a cat, silently and stealthily as he made his way to your boss's office. He had spent years working in the shadows, navigating the dangerous and deadly games of life, but tonight, he wasnât going to be playing games. Tonight, he was a man on a mission.
Inside the cabin the boss, Mr. Park ever being the perverted man was watching pornography in the vicinity of his office with blinds closed and tie loose.
How unprofessional...
Reaching your bossâs cabin, he didnât hesitate. He walked right in, his expression eerily calm, his voice low and menacing. âYouâve caused my jagiya pain. And now youâll pay for it."
He quietly closed the door and locked it and creeped towards the man who was now shaking in his boots his eyes widening in fear. But before he could speak, the Salesman was already on him, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off his chair with terrifying ease.
âYou think you can treat my jagiya like that huh and now I'll do teh exact things you did to her asshole.."
The Salesmanâs voice was laced with a eerie calmness but feral eyes laced with calculated rage.
The room was silent except for the sound of your bossâs frantic breaths. He tried to beg, to plead, but the Salesman wasnât listening. With a quick, brutal movement, he threw him into the chair, his eyes locking onto the trembling figure before him.
"You think she doesnât matter? That her pain doesnât mean anything?â The Salesmanâs voice was barely a whisper now, but the intensity behind it made it feel like a roar. âI will make you understand. Iâll make you feel every ounce of the fear she felt today. Every ounce of her suffering."
He pulled a butterfly knife from beneath his suit blazer, the cold metal gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The knife was a symbol, not just of death, but of powerâthe power to take control of a situation, to bring someone to their knees. The tip pressed against your bossâs throat as he froze in fear.
âDo you know what it feels like to be powerless?â the Salesman whispered madly calm. "To feel like your whole world is against you, like youâre nothing? Let me show you."
He made a tiny but devastating slit on his throat causing him to gurgle and choke on his own blood , but the threat was enough. Your boss shook uncontrollably, sweat dripping down his face. The Salesman could see the fear, the desperation. He could feel the energy shift, the man who had once held all the power now reduced to a quivering shell.
Gore Warning
After what felt like an eternity, the Salesman made another move, but this time he gouged his eyes out, the ones that leered at you perversely. His gaze never left your boss, as he did the grotesque job.
With that, he turned and walked out, leaving your boss a broken man, both physically and emotionally shattered now that he had no eyes, nor hands and a cut tounge his corpse lay on teh lavish office chair. He had picked the wrong woman to mess with and now he had paid with his life.
Before going out completely he deleted teh footage if the camera and leaving behind the pathetic bastard's corpse to rot.
back at your apartment, the Salesman returned quietly, slipping back into the room where you lay asleep. His expression was unreadable, but there was a dark satisfaction in his eyes, knowing that no one would dare harm you again. He crawled back into bed beside you, pulling you close without a word, as if shielding you from the worldâs cruelty with his very presence.
You slept peacefully, unaware of the violence that had unfolded in your absence, while he watched over you, the weight of his actions never settling in his chest along with the blood specks on his pristine white collar. He had protected you in the only way he knew how. And he would do it again, if necessary.
For you.... Only for you...
#fem reader#salesman squid game#squid game season 2#squid game x reader#squid game#gong yoo x reader#squid game 2#gong yoo#dark#tw blood#tw death#the salesman x reader
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All fair points (and I'm glad to know some adaptations have thought of some of these!) I can get behind most of this as particular failings/traits of Jane/her specific weird situation.
However, it's still weirding me out that even when she's safe at the Rivers house and has time and space to think clearly, she insists that she has no friends and no place in England where she has a right to go. Sure, she's got an extremely strict definition of "rights" that bars things like asking for shelter, but the fact that she thinks she has no friends when Bessie and Robert and Miss Temple are all alive, and she has an uncle who cared enough to send people all the way from Portugal--it suggests a lot about her mindset.
People Jane could have asked for help when she wanted to leave Thornfield, instead of just running out into the wilderness with a piece of bread and some money that she spent entirely on bus fare:
Mrs. Fairfax: Didn't know Rochester was married, would understand that Jane wants to leave. Could possibly provide a loan to help Jane travel to where she needs to go, or at least direct her to other people who could help.
Mr. Eyre/Mr. Mason/the lawyer: Sure, her uncle's dying, and his employees just left her there, but they might not be that far from Thornfield. Could be nearby, or could be reachable by letter if inquiries were made.
Mr. Rochester: He owes Jane money. She could demand it and ask for a reference. If he refuses, she could always pull the "you want to lock two wives in the attic?" card. Risky option, because Rochester is volatile, he's already shown signs of violence, and Jane might cave if she faces him again. I don't blame her for not taking this option, but it was there.
Bessie and Robert: They like her, and they have a house separate from the main house. If she can find a way to travel there, they'd probably house her.
The priest: You know, the one who was going to marry them in the church that's literally walking distance from Thornfield's front door. He knows Jane's story, knows that she's innocent, and knows exactly why she needs help. In the perfect position to provide aid.
The Lowood school: She's been gone for less than a year. I'm sure they'd take her back.
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Was chatting about good alternate Cody&Obi-Wan dynamics with @threebea, and one of them we just had a lot of fun with.
Bea:
Cody: We are doing a good job at war. Are you proud general. Obi-Wan: [grump in CW '03] Cody being in a lacky position is very funny to me, if that makes sense. Cody: The boss will surely promote me. Obi-Wan: You're diligent and thorough but we cannot save supplies by powering this with my lightsaber that is not happening. I have always considered that of the two of them, Cody is the reckless hot-blooded one and Rex is the level-headed one. (Obi-Wan's view skewed however having raised one Anakin Skywalker making Cody kicking droids seem very reasonable and thought out.)
Here were my options for Cody and Obi dynamics:
Obi-Wan treating Cody the way he treats Anakin, early on in their working relationship, tentative but working on that angle because those two are the same age and rank so like. Cody might really be as much of a Dumb Young Man as most young men are, yes?
Obi-Wan treating Cody with a hands-off approach because the guy can manage the army while Obi-Wan runs off to stab the Count, right?
Obi-Wan treating Cody kinda coldly because his instinct is to be very delicate and nice to these traumatized young men, but they don't like it when he does that, so he has to be standoffish because otherwise he'll start babying them because they're barely any older than Anakin was when he got his boy.
Obi-Wan treating Cody as a Research Assistant because he's a nerd and sometimes padawans would be assigned to him in the archives, and Cody hovers behind his shoulder the way those students did so he just got distracted and started giving Research Guy orders instead of High General orders.
Aaaaaanyway we got in on that last one.
Obi-Wan definitely had to call him Padawan at least once Cody: ... [Looks around nope just him]
Cody: I expected to be mistaken for my brothers due to our faces. I did not expect to be mistaken for... Anakin Skywalker? Did I get that right?
Rex: My general called me mom once. I think he was joking? but I'm not sure.
One day, Cody has to come into the Temple for some professional reason, is told that Obi-Wan is in the archives, and walks into the sight of Obi-Wan wandering the stacks with several teenagers following him like ducklings, giving instructions with just "Padawan, could you grab that one?"
When Cody asks how they know which one he means, they tell him they don't. They just go with whoever's nearest the given task.
Cody: But he doesn't do this to any other clone [he does] Rex: You stand just behind his shoulder handing him files all day.
You Are Doing The Padawan Thing
Cody initially worried because implied Obi-Wan thinks of him as a student/not fully ready for the responsibility of being a commander or whatever. Obi-Wan: ? No I just⊠You're Padawan shaped. I can't explain it any better than that Cody gets it the most because he happens to stand exactly where Anakin used to stand the most often. Ironically, Obi-Wan tries hard to call Anakin by his name as a respect to his no longer being a student thing. Cody is firm about military discipline calling Obi-Wan sir and General because if he called him Master Kenobi or Obi-Wan the 'mistaken for Padawan' thing would happen three times as often. Cody: [grumbles] Alpha-17 didn't have this problem. Rex: Alpha-17 drew a line between himself and the Padawan day one to avoid it I think.
Alpha also has been acting like a middle-aged man since he was five. The disdain. Dripping.
Which actually didn't save him he was just more openly insulted when it happened once so Obi-Wan made sure never to do it again. Alpha: I was trained by Jango Fett himself and have proven myself a full fledged captain. I am not a Padawan :/ Obi-Wan: [listening to the speech] noted Cody: [far too polite to ever correct Obi-Wan] What did you need, General? Probably reinforced Alpha acting like an old man. I think he even calls Anakin kid? Anakin: I'm older than you you're the kid đŠ Obi-Wan: Padawan don't argue with the captain. I need a five times Obi-Wan called Cody Padawan (and one time when it was Alpha-17) fic now lol
Anakin: Why does he get away with-- Obi-Wan: Because I feel that if I call him Padawan by accident again, he may break something. And we don't have the funds for that.
Anakin: [in the room once but realizes Obi-Wan was taking to Cody] Anakin: Am I jealous by rival son/Padawan or am I amused that Obi-Wan is going senile?
"my baby boy" vs "generic younger person whom I feel some fondness for"
It's like. Old southern men who refer to anyone younger than them as "son" or "miss."
Obi-Wan: It's even gender neutral I don't have to remember names at all. Obi-Wan also probably called Ahsoka 'Anakin' a number of times, but that's due more to the A name combined with her jumping off something a Padawan should not be jumping off of. He mostly defaults to Padawan but a scolding 'Anakin! No!' Comes out every now and then for her. Obi-Wan: Anakin! No! Anakin, beside him: What? Obi-Wan: ...Sorry, force of habit. Ahsoka! No!
#star wars#the clone wars#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#anakin skywalker#alpha 17#phoenix talks#sw legends
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imagine if the Terraria bosses were on tumblr. what would they even post
#terraria#(just ignore that all of my headcanons are in the tags below)#eye of cthulhu would just post the đ emoji with every reblog#king slime would post and reblog pictures of slimes and slime-making tutorials#queen bee would post what you'd expect from a queen bee with a tumblr account#eater of worlds would be a food blog#brain of cthulhu would be riddles and puzzles#skeletron wouldn't know how tumblr works#wall of flesh would write elegant poetry before being banned for excessive gore after posting a selfie one time#queen slime would see a crystal in an image and instantly reblog it without even looking at the rest of the post#the twins would each have a separate blog but both would do the same thing as eye of cthulhu with a small twist#spazmatizm would post đđ„ and retanizer would post đđ€#the destroyer would post images of run-down buildings with captions along the lines of 'my handiwork' and 'I did that'#skeletron prime would start four different gimmick blogs at once and nobody would know until they all deactivate at the same time#plantera would post and reblog beautiful natural landscapes#golem would post about the state of the temple and lihzahrd society#mourning wood and everscream would be mutuals who post about trees#santa-nk1 would only post around christmas time and would be like a naughty-or-nice gimmick#pumpking would only post around halloween and would 'haunt' posts (put a picture of themselves on posts and say 'this post is haunted!')#not sure what ice queen would post tbh. don't really think about her outside of when I'm doing the frost moon event#the cultists would just be a normal group of mutuals here. sure they'd post about summoning cthulhu but like. that's just tumblr material#if the pillars count then they'd all have wildly different accounts with eldritch horror being the only connecting point#duke fishron would post about seafood restaurants and insects#empress of light would take one look at tumblr and instantly perish#moon lord would attempt to 'take over' tumblr before also being banned for excessive gore after posting a single selfie#deerclops is from don't starve together so I can't speak on what they might post
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