#Item Pot Bank

[torresdesigns]

Ceramic Item Pot Bank - Wind Waker Legend of Zelda - Hand Painted Custom made

Available at my shop: https://goimagine.com/torresdesigns/

[blueiscoool]

How Hadrian’s Wall is Revealing a Hidden Side of Roman History

A party invitation. A broken flipflop. A wig. Letters of complaint about road conditions, and an urgent request for more beer.

It sounds like the aftermath of a successful spring break, but these items are nearly 2,000 years old.

They’re just some of the finds from Hadrian’s Wall – the 73-mile stone wall built as the northwestern boundary of the Roman Empire, sealing off Britannia (modern-day England and Wales) from Caledonia (essentially today’s Scotland).

While most of us think of Pompeii and Herculaneum if we’re thinking of everyday objects preserved from ancient Rome, this outpost in the wild north of the empire is home to some of the most extraordinary finds.

“It’s a very dramatic stamp on the countryside – there’s nothing more redolent of saying you’re entering the Roman empire than seeing that structure,” says Richard Abdy, lead curator of the British Museum’s current exhibition, Legion, which spotlights the everyday life of Roman soldiers, showcasing many finds from Hadrian’s Wall in the process. A tenth of the Roman army was based in Britain, and that makes the wall a great source of military material, he says.

But it’s not all about the soldiers, as excavations are showing.

A multicultural melting pot

Hadrian, who ordered the wall to be built in 122CE after a visit to Britannia, had a different vision of empire than his predecessors, says Frances McIntosh, curator for English Heritage’s 34 sites along Hadrian’s Wall.

“All the emperors before him were about expanding the empire, but Hadrian was known as the consolidator,” she says. He relinquished some of the territory acquired by his predecessor Trajan, and “decided to set the borders” – literally, in some cases, with wooden poles at sites in Germany, or with stone in Britannia. Where those poles rotted thousands of years ago, the wall is still standing: “A great visual reminder” of the Roman empire, says McIntosh.

It’s not just a wall. There’s a castle every mile along, and turrets at every third-of-a-mile point, with ditches and banks both north and south. “You can imagine the kind of impact that would have had, not just on the landscape but on the people living in the area,” says McIntosh.

And thanks to the finds from the wall, we know a surprising amount about those people.

Although historians have long thought of army outposts as remote, male-dominant places, the excavations along the wall show that’s not the case. Not only were soldiers accompanied by their families, but civilians would settle around the settlements to do business. “ You can almost see Housesteads as a garrison town,” says McIntosh. “There were places you could go for a drink and so on.”

The Roman rule of thumb was not to post soldiers in the place they came from, because of the risk of rebellion. That meant Hadrian’s Wall was a cultural melting point, with cohorts from modern-day Netherlands, Spain, Romania, Algeria, Iraq, Syria – and more. “It was possibly more multicultural because it was a focus point,” says McIntosh, who says that the surrounding community might have included traders from across the empire.

Soldiers were split into two groups. Legionaries were Roman citizens from Italy, who had more rights than other soldiers and imported olive oil, wine and garum (a sauce made from decomposing fish).

They worked alongside auxiliaries – soldiers from conquered provinces, who had fewer rights, but could usually acquire citizenship after 25 years of service.

Soldiers carved their names and regiments on stones to show which part of the wall they built – around 50 of them are on display at Chesters fort.

But the wall shows that women and children were equally present.

McIntosh says that pottery brought to the camps – from the Low Countries and North Africa – shows that the soldiers “brought their families, who cooked in traditional style.” Archaeologists have found what seems to be an ancient tagine for North African-style cooking.

A tombstone from Arbeia fort for a woman named Regina shows she was a freed slave from southern Britain who was bought by – and married to – a Syrian soldier.

Another woman buried at Birdoswald fort was laid to rest with chainmail that appears to be from modern-day Poland. “Perhaps she married someone in the army,” says McIntosh, who calls the wall a “melting pot of people from all over the world under the banner of the army.”

“They brought their own religions, as well as worshipping Roman gods and adopting local deities,” she adds. At Carrawburgh, a temple to Mithras – an originally Persian deity – sat near a spring with a shrine to a local water spirit.

‘Wretched little Brits’

Some of the most extraordinary finds from the Roman empire are coming from one site on Hadrian’s Wall: Vindolanda. Here, archaeologists have found a wealth of organic remains because of what curator Barbara Birley calls the “unusual conditions onsite.”

At Vindolanda there are the remains of at least nine forts over 14 levels. “When the Romans would leave, they would knock down timber forts, and cover the area with turf and clay, sealing the layers underneath,” she says.

“Because it happened so many times, the bottom five or six layers are sealed in anaerobic conditions, so things don’t decay. When we get down there, we get wooden objects, textiles, anything organic.”

Vindolanda has the largest collection of Roman textiles from a single site in western Europe, as well as the largest leather collection of any site in the Roman empire – including 5,000 shoes, and even a broken leather flip-flop. “We probably had a population of 3,000 to 6,000 depending on the period, so 5,000 is a lot,” says Birley. For Abdy, the shoes evoke the conditions of the wet borderlands. “Women’s and children’s shoes are hobnailed – you needed it in the mucky frontier dirt tracks. They’re very evocative.”

There’s even a wig made from a local plant, hair moss, which is said to repel midges – the scourge of Scotland during the summer. A centurion’s helmet is also crested with hairmoss – the ancient equivalent of spraying yourself with insect repellent.

The first woman to write in Latin

One of the most famous finds is the trove of wooden writing tablets – the largest found anywhere.

“They give a snapshot of what life was actually like,” says Birley. “We understand so much more from written correspondence than from ‘stuff,’ and, archaeologically, it’s the stuff that usually survives – things like metals and ceramics.

“These were written in ink, not on a wax stylus tablet, and we believe they were used for what we’d put in emails: ‘The roads are awful,’ ‘The soldiers need more beer.’ Everyday business.”

The tablets – or “personal letters” as Birley describes them – were found on the site of a bonfire when the ninth cohort of Batavians (in the modern-day Netherlands) were told to move on.

“They had a huge bonfire and lots of letters were chucked in the fire. Some have been singed – we think it may have rained,” she says. One of them calls the locals “Britunculi” – “wretched little Brits.” Another talks about an outbreak of pinkeye. One claims that the roads are too bad to send wagons; another laments that the soldiers have run out of beer.

Among the 1,700 letters are 20 that mention a woman called Sulpicia Lepidina. She was the wife of the commander of the garrison, and seems to have played a crucial role. There’s a letter to her from another woman, Paterna, agreeing to send her two medicines, one a fever cure.

Birley says it’s similar to today. “If you’re a group of moms, still today we say, ‘Do you have the Calpol?’ It’s very human.” For Abdy, it’s a sign that women were traders. “She’s clearly flogging her medicines,” he says. “It’s really great stuff.”

Another tablet is an invite from Claudia Severa, the wife of another commander at a nearby camp. It’s an invitation to a birthday party. Under the formal invitation, presumably written by a scribe, is a scrawl in another hand: “I shall expect you, sister. Farewell, sister, my dearest soul.”

Presumably written by Claudia herself, it is thought to be the earliest example of a woman’s handwriting in Latin.

Without the organic finds – the shoes and the letters that indisputably belonged to women, unlike jewellery or weaving equipment – it’s difficult to prove conclusively that women lived in significant numbers. Vindolanda “illustrate the missing gaps,” says Abdy. For Birley, they prove that women were as crucial a part of army communities as men. “Before the Lepidina tablets were found we didn’t really understand the interactions between the soldiers and their wives,” she says. Another tablet is written by what is thought to be a Spanish standard-bearer’s common-law wife, ordering military equipment for her partner.

“The Vindolanda collection is showing that there weren’t just camp followers and prostitutes; women were part of everyday life, and contributing to the military community in many ways,” says Birley.

Abdy says that Hadrian’s Wall is interesting because the resident women span “all classes of society,” from Regina – the dead freedwoman, who would have been “bottom of the heap” – to the trader Paterna and the noblewoman Lepidina.

And of course, there’s the wall itself.

“In the Netherlands and Germany the finds are often stunning and better preserved – you go to museums and are bowled over. But in terms of structural remains, Hadrian’s Wall must be among the best,” says McIntosh, modestly, of her site.

Abdy agrees: “I can’t think of many symbols so redolent of imperial will than that wall.”

By Julia Buckley.

[daycourtofficial]

It’s Autumn in New York

Pairing: modern!Azriel x Eris | WC: 1.5k | warnings: none

Summary: my favorite playlist ‘listening to jazz while cooking with your lover in a nyc apartment’ but make it soup and Azris and big sweaters ❣️

Note: I couldn’t let @erisweekofficial go by without some Azris!!!

“It’s looking at me.”

Azriel rolled his eyes at Eris’s greeting before putting a scrap of paper in his book, standing and meeting Eris at the door. He lightly kissed his boyfriend’s cheek as he grabbed some of the bags from Eris’s hands. The pair carried them further into his tiny kitchen, placing bags on the limited counter space.

“She has a name.”

“Yes, but I don’t think it suits her. I think Devil Spawn is more appropriate.”

At that moment, the cat jumped up on the counter, her tail moving from side to side as her big green eyes watched Eris. He sneered in response at the black cat’s presence.

“I just know she wants to sink her claws into my sweater. It’s hand knit, prick.”

Azriel lightly elbowed him from behind, his boyfriend’s antagonism to his cat both annoying and slightly entertaining. “She’s a cat. I don’t think she understands what hand knit, expensive wool means.”

Eris and his godsdamned sweater, Azriel thought. He took a deep breath as he pulled ingredients from the bags, trying to let his annoyance settle as he inspected the squash Eris picked up before he began peeling the onion and dicing it.

It had only been two months since Eris told his father he was dating a man and was very quickly disowned. In the span of twelve hours, Beron had seized all of Eris’s assets, from his bank accounts to his apartment, and fired him and had him banned from Vanserra Enterprises’s grounds.

He had showed up to Azriel’s apartment in nothing but the sweater and trousers he wore now.

Azriel and Eris had been dating on and off for a year and a half by this point, Eris finally deciding to tell his family, despite both men knowing how it would likely end.

Their relationship was never ‘off’ for very long - only a week or two here and there, when both their tempers got too much to handle. The stress of keeping their romance a secret frequently causing Eris to leave whenever things became too much or too real.

But they had been dating for a year straight when Eris began getting plagued with the need to tell his family. He knew the outcome - had even talked over every strategy with his younger brother, Lucien, to help figure out the softest way to tell them.

But Beron Vanserra was not a caring man.

Things had been looking up for Eris since then - it was a learning curve for him to have to live with someone in such small quarters, but the two made it work somehow. Azriel was a transplant to New York City, whereas Eris grew up here.

But shoebox apartments were never something Eris had been acquianted with - growing up in penthouse apartments in the upper east side meant he had grown accustomed to having an amount of space most New Yorkers would deem ‘excessive’.

But the pair made it work.

Eris had even been working on rekindling a relationship with Lucien - the two met up at least once a fortnight for coffee or pastries - short, small commitments for the two to work through the complexities of decades of emotional manipulation.

In a few days Eris was starting a job doing what he had initially wanted to do - running political campaigns. He recently got hired with a firm and he’ll begin helping Nesta Archeron try to take the seat of governor from their incumbent.

Eris had spent all week pouring over every piece of news he could get in the state to prepare himself - every data point, every poll. He had started quoting numbers in his sleep much to Azriel’s annoyance.

Azriel kicked him out of the apartment a few hours ago, telling him to go to the store and to get ingredients for butternut squash soup.

“Well, Azriel, perhaps it’s time you taught her about fine, luxury items.”

He dumped the diced onion into a hot pot as Eris began slicing the squash. “Yes, Er, I will spend the free time I have with you teaching my cat to better differentiate between polyester and cashmere.”

“You make me sound absurd.”

After a pause, Eris slowly smiled, looking at Azriel as he paused his cutting. “Why start there? The first lesson should be all textiles, not just cashmere and polyester.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, his hip checking Eris’s as he pulled the knife from the redhead’s hand and continued to cut the gourd into chunks.

“Perhaps I should quit my job and stay at home and homeschool her.”

His joke had been punctuated with a light meow as Midnight jumped from the counter, moving between Eris and Azriel’s sock clad feet, her body rubbing against Azriel’s calf as she purred.

“As if you could teach anyone manners.”

Azriel stopped his cutting, picking up the board as he dropped the chunks in the dutch oven. He hummed at Eris’s remark, trying to think of a witty reply before turning and grabbing Eris’s hand, pulling it to his lips and leaving a soft kiss.

Eris let a sneer cover his face, but his body moving closer to Azriel betrayed how he really felt about the man before him. One of Azriel’s hands moved to the hem of Eris’s sweater, resting lightly on his hip.

“What are you doing?”

“Is this not a proper greeting? I’m working on my manners.”

“I don’t think feeling someone up is a proper greeting.”

Azriel’s hand slid around, sliding into Eris’s back pocket. At Eris’s raised eyebrow, he responded, “If I’m going to be improper and feel you up, I’m going to do it properly.”

“The soup’s going to burn.”

Azriel turned his head, looking to the pot of vegetables that was heating. The vegetables hardly looked like they had warmed at all, and he imagined he could just stick his hand in it and come out only slightly warmer than his skin.

“I like to take risks.”

“Ah yes, professional risk taker. You spend your day in an office.”

“I walk on top of the grates when I walk through city. That is a risk. My earring could fall out and into the grate.”

Eris rolled his eyes, “everyone walks over the grates and if your earring fell out on the sidewalk,” he brought his finger to lightly play with the dangling knife from Azriel’s ear, “you would need several shots after putting it back in your ear.”

“I have isopropyl alcohol in the bathroom.”

“You have clearly not lived here long enough to understand that that is not strong enough to kill New York street bacteria.”

Azriel hummed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Eris took in his boyfriend, the deep blue sweater he had received for Christmas last year looking as stunning as Eris had expected it to when he bought it. He looked at Azriel’s profile, the dark bags beneath his eyes sending a pang through Eris.

The past few months had been draining for him, but Azriel had been picking up the brunt of the emotional load in this time, helping Eris work through what a life without his father would look like.

Just because it was the best thing to do didn’t make it any easier.

Eris pulled away first, untangling his limbs from Azriel to pull out the bread he had picked up, putting the gluten free loaf onto a cutting board as he cut chunky slices for the pair.

Azriel wrapped his arms around Eris, not letting him stray too far from his touch. Time slipped away as the two shared their body heat in the kitchen, not having anything to do until the timer for the vegetables wittled down.

When the timer finally went off, Azriel moved to turn the stove off while Eris moved to put the blender on the counter. The cat kept weaving between Eris’s legs, making moving through the kitchen nearly impossible. When he nearly tripped over her, he gave an exasperated sigh and scooped her into his arms.

“I hate you.”

She meowed loudly in his face before rotating her body to get comfortable and buried her face in Eris’s chest.

“It’s rumbling.”

“She’s purring, Eris. It’s a sign of affection. Lord knows you couldn’t identify that on your own.”

The redhead rolled his eyes as Azriel brought the pot of soup to the blender, using a spatula to get every last piece in before blending it into a soupy consistency, adding broth as he went to make it less viscous.

The sound of the blender made conversation impossible, until eventually Azriel grabbed two bowls, dumping the contents of the blender into each bowl. Eris followed Azriel to their table, dropping the cat onto the floor as Azriel placed the bowls on the table.

Eris knew things were going to still be difficult - he missed his mother, the jitters of starting a new job, of essentially starting over. But he looked at the soup, his favorite since childhood, before sitting down and taking a bite.

Things could be difficult tomorrow. Tonight would be easy. He would eat this soup and bask in the company of his boyfriend and his annoying cat.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Azris taglist: @chunkypossum @the-darkestminds @mistandmemories @molcat07

Thanks for reading❣️

[greenhorizonblog]

The Free People's Café

I have an idea for a café (could start as a stall or pop up outside) where people can get a ready made hot meal for free. And I want to emphasise it'll be a cafe, not a soup kitchen.

I've seen more and more that lot of middle class people, across the whole political spectrum actually, really do want to help the homeless and other local people in need but at the same time they are very afraid of them.

They are afraid because they don't know how they will act. People in need in most cases are technically desperate, and desperate people can often act unpredictably, and there are few things more scary than the unpredictable and uncertain. Many of the people who most want to help are women, and we ourselves are vulnerable in many ways in society. Many have kids that need them and therefore don't want to put themselves in potential harm's way. But many of them like to and are good at making lovely home cooked meals. That's why I thought of this

The food would be home cooked and donated by anyone who wants to, so long as they bring ID so we can track it to them, and their name (along with the date the food was prepared, which should be the day before donation) would be put on the container for the food donated, to deter bad actors. Ready meals within their due date would also be accepted. Donors would come by and pick up their tray again when they can.

It will be indistinguishable from any other cute cafe. People struggling deserve the dignity of eating in nice surroundings too.

By making it free for all, people will not as easily be able to tell who is struggling and who isn't, so people who are struggling would feel less shame about getting free food. The main statement in the cafe would be that food is a human right, which should also help people overcome feelings of unworthiness a little.

When some people tout the whole 'food should be earned' shtick, I ask; do the trees need to prove themselves worthy of sunlight? do squirrels have to prove themselves worthy of the acorns from the trees? Even predatory animals don't have to go through some prior long convoluted abstract test of worthiness (our concept of 'work') before they are allowed to catch prey, they just do it and if all is well in the eco system, it's not hard for them. Humans are the only animal that insists on holding their food for ransom from each other, among many other bullshit behaviours. In short, we have lost plot as a species

We would ensure though that the one's most in need, like homeless people get to eat first, like an hour before official opening time. They can also just come by, pick up a meal and eat it elsewhere if they wish

There would of course be a fridge, freezer on site, as well as an airfryer and microwave to heat the food and to make sure it's properly cooked through. And all food handlers would of course be trained so that all food safety standards of hygiene would be upheld

This wouldn't be allergen friendly since it's just people's home cooking (maybe with exception of the sealed ready meals) but then again most other cafes and restaurants can't really guarantee being allergen free either. This would also be clearly signed and labelled in the cafe so there is no confusion.

People would be most encouraged to bring savoury main meals, like a big tray of lasagna or big pot of curry/stew etc for example, but are also welcome to donate deserts, non alcoholic drinks, and snacks as well as pantry items, that can be given out food, bank style.

The donors who want to can leave their social media handle as well, so if people like the food they can write a thanks to them, or tag them in a post of the meal :) to give some social incentive and reward for people to keep donating. Could also be a sticky note board with similar notes of appreciation.

I'm in the UK, and from what I have gathered this should be possible, even with the hassle of the necessary registration, insurance, training etc. You could also do this unofficially in your local community and start things like a free fridge/pantry. This is just an idea I have been entertaining lately, if it's already being done that's awesome, I just haven't personally seen it done anywhere yet, so I thought I'd share the idea.

If you can, please feel free to use it and make it happen. Society is safer, healthier, happier and much more peaceful and level headed when people's next meal is guaranteed

[grossillygirl]

EXCITED I GOT NEW POTS AND PANS BUTTT THE BOX DOESNT HAVE PAPER INSIDE SO I FEEL LIKE AHHHH IDK

Im so EXCIIITTTEEEEEEDDDDD THIS BROKE THE BANK SLIGHTLY BUT ITS OK ITS WORTH IT FOR SHINY NEW KITCHEN ITEMS😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

[gripefroot]

Fire Night

For once, his timing is impeccable. 

Not that you’d ever turned him away, of course, or even said anything temptingly snarky when he showed up while you were digging out mud from a creek bank and covered in leeches, or once, before dawn when you’d been passed out cold and therefore screamed like a banshee when he tapped on your bedroom window. 

But this. You could get used to this. 

Kiln nights can be a challenge, taking days to properly prepare and execute. Chopping wood for fuel, repairing the stone oven a quarter-mile from your cottage where it was safe to keep the blazes going for days on end to fire your pottery. Carrying the glazed pieces from the cottage to the kiln. Building the fire. Keeping it going through a night and a day and a night on very, very little sleep; because rest doesn’t compare to getting paid. 

Repairing the stone oven remains your job. But Law has spent all afternoon with a wheelbarrow bringing loads of wood to dump near the oven. He’d doffed his shirt almost immediately, already tanning in the sweltering summer sun. Kiln nights are miserable if the weather is too cold; but summer makes sitting close to the oven all night tending the fire miserable, too. 

Every crack sealed, you sit up from the grass and rub mud from your hands. 

Not exactly the hands of a lover, but he’d never minded. 

“Is this enough?” Law asks. His sixteenth load of wood. Not that you’d been counting. Or watched his backside when he’d walked away for more each time. Sweat glistens on his face as he wipes his brow with his forearm, eyes bright as he looks you up and down. As if laying belly-down on the grass and elbow-deep in mud is exactly what he admires most in a woman.  

“Yes,” you admit. 

“Finally.”

“But,” you say. His shoulders deflate by a centimeter. “I need to bring down the items to go in the oven,” you tell him, amusement bubbling up. It seems obvious to you. 

“How many?” Law wanders over to crouch beside you, his nearness making your heart jump a little. Without a word he licks his thumb and drags it across your cheekbone. The mud must have splattered you at some point. 

“All of them.”

“All?”

“All,” you tell him ruefully. “It’s less work to do it in one big batch.”

Law’s expression is nothing short of incredulous. “All,” he repeats. You give into the temptation to laugh, nearly blocking out his next grumble: “You have five shelves in your house. All of them?” 

“You can keep asking, but I’m not going to change my mind,” you tease. “Why did you think I was so happy to see you this morning that I jumped on you?” 

He purses his lips, making a show of rubbing his backside where he’d landed after said jump. “Slave labor,” Law says. 

“It’s not slavery if you’re willing,” you say. 

“Keep that logic to yourself.” He tugs on a clump of your hair. “Fine. I’ll get all of your pots and things. But I’m cheating.” 

“I’m surprised it took you this long to cheat.” 

Law stands, brushing dirt and feathery bits from trees off of his jeans. “How could I have cheated when you keep sneaking looks at me like I’m a three-tier cake you’re going to eat tonight?” he asks, brows raised. 

“I was subtle!” you protest. The air goes funny and shimmery, echoing his laugh as he disappears from the glade in the blink of an eye. A thump draws your attention: one of your galoshes for mud-digging appears right where he’d been standing. “He’s taking that back, too,” you say, to no one in particular, and stand to wash your hands in the creek. 

Embers rush into the dusky sky to promptly fade, spinning back down to the earth. They’re snuffed beneath your feet, or your knees, or Law’s feet, or his knees. The oven barely fits all the pots, nestled together as close as is reasonably safe, before you’d sealed it with a final brick and more mud to keep the heat inside. Law works the bellows, blue and white flames spurting out of the top to chase the embers. 

“Hot enough?” he asks. His face is red, glistening in the glow from the oven. 

Carefully you pick your way to the oven as close as you can bear, leaning over to peer inside the chimney. “It’s glowing,” you say. “It’s enough for now, but we’ll have to bring it back up in thirty minutes or so.”

Law blew out a breath, sitting on his haunches. He’d worked hard all day alongside you, and it shows. It shows in his tired eyes. It shows in his strained smile. But any smile from him is a treasure. 

“Thirty minutes,” he repeats. “What should we do while we wait?” 

“Rest, probably,” you tell him. 

“I want to know if I’ve earned anything from you.” His eyes hone in on yours. 

“Don’t tell me, Law,” you say, walking around the oven in his direction, “that you only broke your back on my behalf today for something as small as a kiss.”

“I’m hoping for more than a kiss.” As soon as you reach him, his arm snakes out to wind around your thigh, holding you close. His face by your knee is a beautiful sight, orange in the reflection of the fire with deep shadows from the lengthening night around. His hand strokes up your thigh, you run your fingers through his thick, damp hair. 

“I have an idea,” you say softly. “Let’s take a quick dip in the river and then come back.”

Law’s brow arches. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Let’s set up my bedroll far enough away from the oven that we aren’t sweating.”

He breaks out into a grin. “We’ll sweat.”

“Yes, but not from heat, if you catch my drift.” 

“I do.” His fingers find the waistband of your pants. “I do catch your drift.” 

No one from town ever comes this far up the river at night. They don’t need to. So you strip off your shirt and pants by the bank, wading in stark-naked. The cool water hits your skin with a hiss, goosebumps pebbling across your body. Once up to your hips, you turn, trailing your fingers through the water to splash your front. 

“Aren’t you coming?” you call back. Law is mid-doff at the riverbank, jeans partway down his knees. He’s staring. With a laugh you crook a finger to get him to hurry up. It jolts him into action, tugging his jeans the rest of the way off. Then the air shimmers, and a second later his body is pressed up against yours in the middle of the river. 

“I’m coming, all right.” The words are muttered in your ear before his teeth sink into your shoulder. It only makes you shiver more, torn between the chilly water and Law’s heated body. The only problem is your front is cold and your back is hot. So you spin, trading sensations. His hands land on your hips, his half-smile visible in the night. 

“Well,” you say, lifting your arms out of the water. Droplets fall back, plunk-plunk-plunking into the stream while you wrap your arms around his neck. “While I’m here…” 

Little washing is accomplished. It cools you off, and rinses some sweat from his body and yours, but other than that? It’s forgotten in a tender, long-anticipated kiss that makes you hot all over again. He must be more impatient at the delay than he’d acted, because his long fingers waste no time digging into your rear end beneath the water, a low groan sounding in his throat. 

That groan makes your skin skitter in anticipation, heat blooming deep inside. He’s slick from the water, and warm and solid. When his tongue is at the seam of your lips, you let him in with a gasp, tasting pine and man. Traipsing around the woods all day has made him delicious. More delicious than usual. The sensual way he kisses reminds you of his tongue elsewhere; stroking deep and slow while his hands coast up your spine. 

“Law,” you choke out when his mouth goes to your throat to bite down hard enough to make you shiver. “Oh, Law. We can’t do this in a river.”

“Why not?” The question is a rumble in his chest, vibrating against yours. One hand on your rear, his other comes up to cup a breast, squeezing with your nipple pinned between his thumb and index finger.

Why not? Why not what? What had you asked? It had seemed so important then…but now, putty in his hands, you can’t remember what it is or why you’d cared. 

Down his chest, tracing the muscles. Your hand finds his erection, slipping beneath it to seize the sack. He grunts, thrusting forward as you laugh, and laugh, and laugh. He likes it. Especially now. Law pulls away, his eyelids lowered but not far enough for you not to see the sparkling stars reflected in the dark depths. 

“Someone’s greedy,” he says. 

“You started it,” you tease back. 

His lips tighten in a line. But he’s not grumpy about it. Not really. Especially when your fingers curl around the base of his cock, giving a tug that makes him sway. 

“Alright,” he grumbles. “Alright. You win.” 

Law bends over, hoisting you up and out of the river until you’re pistoned on his shoulder, the bone digging into your belly. Your shriek of surprise echoes down the river. Hopefully no one comes running. 

One sloshing step after another to the bank. Then out, clothes forgotten as he strides to the oven. Drips of water patter onto the ground. His free hand strokes up the back of your thigh, then gives your rear a whack that makes you squirm. 

“Not nice,” you huff. He’s too tall for you to reach his backside to retaliate. Not nice, and not fair. 

Despite his manhandling, Law sets you down gently, holding you up until he’s sure that your legs are bearing your weight. Then, grinning, he finds your bedroll in a pack of supplies that you’d brought that morning. The night air is not kind to wet skin. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering. And then you inch closer to the oven, radiating heat even from ten feet away. 

He shakes out the bedroll, laying it down. He’s never been a shy man. Not with his body, at least. But the sight of him standing fully nude and fully erect in the orange glow of the oven…your cheeks warm. His teeth gleam in the darkness. 

“I’ll warm you up,” he says, offering a hand. 

Too chilly to play coy, you bound across the space between you and him to encase yourself in his open arms. A clumsy kiss lasts all of two seconds before he bends at the knee, cradling you to carry you down, down, down. 

It’s practice or skill or instinctual; your legs cradling him as he nudges his hips into meet yours. The clumsy kiss lengthens, lips parting to drink each other in, with his hands everywhere. On your jaw, on your breasts, on your hips. Then, finally, with a jolt that drags a moan from your throat, his fingers dip between your legs. 

His breath is hot on your ear, your fingernails digging into his back for all you’re worth. “I missed this,” he sighed, catching your earlobe in his teeth. 

“Me - too.” The words are a gasp. His fingers slide sleekly against your sex; flaring up desire that already burns. “Law,” you breathe, hands moving up to plunge into his messy hair. “Oh, Law.” 

“Like I said. Greedy.” His chuckle is low and dangerous. “But I am too. Makes me crazy, y’know? Knowing you want me so bad. Knowing you’re here when I’m at sea and all I have to do is change my course, and in a matter of days I can be right here, inside you, where I need to be…”

Dizzy, you scarcely notice when his fingers pull away to be replaced by his cock. He’s slow to enter, rocking against you with his lips fastened to your neck. Each tiny thrust drives a groan out of him, and a gasp out of you. Tucking your knees higher, you reach down to hold onto him; to drag him in further - 

But he growls, grabbing your wrist in his. “No,” Law said roughly. Half inside of you, he pulls away, glaring down at you. “I’ll be moving at my own pace.” 

If his stubbornness didn’t guarantee your pleasure, you’d fight back. Nip back at him the way he nips at your fingers as if in reminder. He threads his fingers through yours, pressing your hand into the ground. Then he starts to move again, inch by inch; slow enough that your core twitches for more. You want to be full, he can fill you, but why does Law have to be such a tease? 

“That’s better,” he purrs, as if reading your emotion in your face. He smirks ear to ear, eyes never moving from yours as he pushes into you. 

“I like to touch you,” you say. 

“So do I.” 

“I wish you’d let me.” 

“Maybe I’ll let you later.” Pain in the rear as he was, Law tilts his body off of yours to wriggle his arm out, and yours, to properly pin down your opposite hand above your head, too. If his fingers weren’t so blasted long he might not get away with it, but he manages to hold you with one hand. The other, he trails down your cheek, your neck, and to your breast, which he cups. 

“I like to touch you,” he breathes. His nose brushes against yours, a tender display that makes your heart squeeze. “Thanks for letting me.” 

You stick your tongue out. He laughs. 

“That’s how I know you like being right where you are,” Law says. “You resort to being petty. You know I’m gonna make it worth your while, right?”

Yes. You do. 

“There we go.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “I can see it in your eyes, you know. The way you ache.” He draws his hips back, thrusting deeper inside. Your back arches against him, but his grip on your hands never lessens. Instead he bends over to match your angle, tongue against your lips. 

How he manages to have so much self-control boggles your mind. He’d wanted this all day just as much as you, yet he holds himself back. How? How? 

“Law.” It’s little more than a whimper. “Please.” 

“I know. I’ve got you.” This time the words are strained. Was he breaking at last? By the jerk in his hips that finally, finally seats him fully inside of you, you think he might. 

Law doesn’t tease anymore. He doesn’t coax, he doesn’t seduce. No. His mouth is hot on yours, every pant of breath filling your mouth as you kiss him, kiss him, use every ounce of your strength that’s available to welcome him inside. The ground is uneven against your back; the oven crackles, wind rushes through the tree branches above…

And the deep heat uncoils between your legs, building with each skillful thrust until he feels larger and thicker than ever. The only noise you can make is a long, drawn out “O - o - o - oh” that he must recognize, because he doesn’t slow, doesn’t change. Heartbeats later the pleasure rakes through your body in a single, cresting wave; starting and ending where he’s joined with you. 

“Good girl.” The words crack from his mouth, his tone deep. “I knew you could do it.” 

A few more, slowing thrusts send shooting stars through your veins, gasping for air while your heart batters in your chest. Then, finally, he stops, buried deep inside while his hands loosen on your wrists. 

“There.” Law grins. “Not so bad to let me do my thing?” 

“Well!” Your cheeks are hot, and his are red. “I’ve never been a man but I’m not convinced that takes too much skill. Just humping, really.” 

He stares. Humor tickles, making your lips twitch. 

“Just humping?” he repeats. 

“Now, if you’d licked me first,” you shrug, pretending angelic innocence as his expression darkens. “Or done more with your hands…” 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible! I’m simply stating that you can exhibit your skill in so many other ways.” 

It works. Law’s jaw clenches, a growl between his bared teeth. He throws himself back onto his haunches, leaving you bare and a little cold, until he grabs your ankle to pull you towards him. 

“Just humping,” he mutters. The last thing you see are his narrowed eyes, the challenge sizzling in them. In a single moment, he flips you onto your belly, the scratchiness of the bedroll far too pleasurable on your nipples than should be allowed. You plant your palms on the ground to hoist yourself up, but his hand pushes down on your spine. “Just humping,” he says again. 

“Just humping,” you say. Smugly you glance over your shoulder, just in time to see him rise to his knees. He pulls your hips up with him, tracing around the flesh of your buttocks with a growing smile. He meets your eyes in a brief, stunning moment. 

“You menace,” Law says. “You wanted this.” 

“A lady never tells.” Stretching out like a cat, you push yourself against him with a pretend yawn. His intake of breath is audible, the strangled noise like music to your ears. 

He can be in control all he wants, but it doesn’t change his weaknesses. And you happen to be acquainted with his weaknesses. Intimately. 

Law starts slow again, but picks up faster, holding onto you for the ride while the bedroll scrapes against your skin. With nothing to hold onto, you make fists instead, letting the pleasure drive everything else from your mind. All that matters is him and you and you and him, and how perfect he feels and how wonderful you feel and how much better everything is when he’s here…

It could have been an hour later, or three, dozing off naked and side-by-side beneath the sky while the embers burst like fireworks against the inky blackness. He lays on his back, you curled against him, his fingers tracing lazy patterns down your back. Sleep swarms, but you brush it away. 

It’s Fire Night, after all. 

“Our clothes are still at the river,” you mumble blearily. 

“Oops.” He doesn’t sound even a little repentant. 

“I don’t want to add more wood to the fire nude. What if I get burned?” 

Law sighs, then with a groan pushes himself to an elbow. Facing the glow of the oven, his features blur handsomely with a smile just for you. You smile back, tracing the line of facial hair down his chin. Fondly he pats your rear. 

“I’ll get the clothes,” he says. “But then you have to add the wood.” 

If he feels like he won, then that’s fine with you. Because this false competition only makes it easier to make excuses, easier to be sweet, and easier to pretend like it isn’t love.

[genderqueerdykes]

I’ve seen more and more people being affected by the pornbots in the trans tags. Does it annoy you too?

And just as a general check how are you doing?

that's actually a very good question- yes, it does

it's been happening to almost every queer tag but it's been particularly rough in the trans tags. trans people posting erotic photographs of themselves isn't something that bothers me, what bothers me is exactly what you mentioned, the bots. i can easily block certain tags to not see trans erotica but the porn bots just don't care

whenever i go into a tag like "trans" or "transgender" i'm looking to hear about others' experiences with being trans, look at some trans art, share other people's experiences and journeys with transition, and so on. i don't want to see random porn everywhere that has nothing to do with trans people especially. tumblr did not achieve anything in trying to ban porn because now its just everywhere again

and its not even good like at least in the past a lot of it was by trans people for trans people. now it's almost entirely scams. they existed before but they're way worse now. i report and block them whenever i'm able to but it's a nightmare. as someone on the asexual spectrum, but sex positive, i just don't want to see stolen images of random girls. again i don't mind if it's porn for and by trans people, especially because that can easily be blacklisted, but it's impossible to blacklist the porn bots because they don't play by the rules

trans porn is generally well tagged so that you can easily block that from showing up in your tag searches and dashboard, whereas the bots are trying to avoid getting blacklisted. it's frustrating. i'd rather people look at trans erotica instead, at least it would be on topic. this is just taking people's attention away from trans sex workers and it fucking sucks

also thank you for asking! i had to rest and drink a lot of fluids after the gastric emptying study yesterday. i have my consult for gallbladder removal surgery in 2 days, which i am looking forward to. i had no idea that was such a big issue, there were a lot of guesses being made before i finally got a CT scan. most doctors were humming and hawing about how my insurance "won't" pay for those scans... but it does. if they go about writing the referral and getting diagnostic information, my insurance pays for those types of scans. it's not just x-rays my insurance covers, but doctors assume it won't be covered due to me having insurance for very low income people (medicaid)

after surgery i'll have to talk to someone about my liver. i'm not sure how long i have to recover from gallbladder removal surgery, but we shall see. other than that i'm doing alright, just navigating the symptoms that's been causing most nights out of the week, reading some queer books i've borrowed from the library, talking with my neighbors, and resting. my neighbors are also disabled and are very kind, well, at least my immediate neighbors, and one at the end of the street, as well as an older guy who takes walks up and down the block very often. these people are all very kind. i like talking with them and hearing about their days.

i also give them any meat the food bank accidentally sends me which is good because i hate the idea of just throwing it out. i've been able to cook a lot of very nice meals lately now that i have some more pots and pans and cooking tools. i lost a lot of mine while moving but i finally have enough to cook reliably and more than one thing at a time :) i was given a lot of brown rice from the food bank because i can't eat meat and a lot of their items contained meat and i've found i like brown rice a lot, honestly more than white rice. it takes eons to cook but it's worth it, especially if you add soy sauce, sesame oil, or other seasonings into the water as it cooks

thanks for checking in! i appreciate you, take care

[champangekisses]

Afterglow | R.C. & J.M.

Part One

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: swearing, banter, arguing, anger, suggestive, flirting

Summary: Reader’s first day back in the OBX after a year away is one to remember.

A/n: Part one to my first fic. I’m as excited as I am nervous to post this, I hope you enjoy!

All I could hear was the shouting, the constant rustle in the trees, the dogs barking uncontrollably. The flashlights shone through the trees and bushes as the sheriff and fellow deputies tried to desperately catch up to us. The fear set in, the rush of adrenaline still persistent in my body. I started to go numb as the limbs of the trees and bushes consistently smacked me all over. Then finally it happened, right before my eyes—my greatest fear became my living nightmare.

One Month Earlier

“Y/n! Make sure you pack yourself something nice to wear, remember no white!” My mom yelled up to remind me for the one hundredth time from the base of the stairs. I left the OBX a year ago, moved out to the middle of nowhere with my mom and her new husband and started a completely new life with them. Today, I finally get to go home, but unfortunately only for a week.

The Thornton’s eldest daughter is getting married off to some kid who graduated from law school, nothing special other than the groom comes from a wealthy family, and that's all that really matters out there. Keeping the rich - rich. My mom was always obsessed with the idea of me having a lifestyle almost identical to hers but I never was one for the shinier things in life, I just wanted to smoke pot and surf.

I had a plan though, she had always promised me that we would return off of one condition. “You will never see those worthless kids ever again.” Her words replayed in my head like the unmistakable tune of the piano keys I kept tapping ever so faintly as I waited by her bedroom entry, only to retain her opinion of the attire I had picked for the dreadful day to come.

“Y/n? Do you need something?” I quickly zoned back in, collecting all of the vindictive thoughts and stuffing them in a folder labeled drafts. I turned quickly to face her, she was in the middle of packing almost every nonessential item in her bathroom.

I gradually made my way to her bedside, settling down while staring at the ardent red dress in the palm of my hands. “What do you think about this one?” I spoke excitedly, masking the deceitful thoughts I was creating effortlessly in my head.

“I love it! The red dress has always been my favorite.” Her eyes glimmered at the thought of seeing me finally fit in with the kooks or as my step dad would say, the well educated kids. I gave a gentle smile to her before proceeding back through her reimposed bedroom doorway, gliding my fingers ever so delicately over the keys of the piano once more before continuing back up the staircase.

The trip there was awful and boring, outside of the plane windows you saw nothing but the many shades of green, luckily we were there within the matter of a couple hours. We took the latest flight that ultimately landed us at Charleston around eight in the evening. Exhaustedly as I am, I took it into my best interest to sleep during the next three and a half hours of our drive to the Outer Banks.

My body started lightly being pulled in one direction, then the other with every winding turn the old road took. With my eyes closed and slowly waking up, I started imagining the scenery of the old famous hang out at John B's. It was like dreaming in slow motion, watching as the sun kissed the water while we overcame the dying urge for a good time with uncontrollable laughter. Before my imagination concluded the car slowed, turning unhurriedly through massive gates that sat imperishable at the end of the elongated driveway.

Pulling up to the front doors of the old Tanneyhill Estate, I glanced into a dining room window staring at the distinctive profile of well-known Rafe Cameron. Our arrival made the inevitable distraction from the conversation at the dinner table which caused him to turn, concentrating on the moving vehicle on the other side of the very same window. The car stopped and I regained focus, grabbing my hand bag from the floorboard of the SUV before undoing my seatbelt.

Glancing down at my phone to check the time, I rested my hand on the door handle. Before I could put the energy into finally pulling it towards me, Ward swiftly swings the car door open—smiling almost as if he has never seen such a wonderful sight in his life. While demanding he help my stepdad with an argumentative tone, he reaches out for my hand and mildly holds it to help me out of the car.

I mumble a soft thanks before glancing to the front doors, locking eyes with the golden boy. Meanwhile behind me, Ward was continuing to the next car door, assisting with any need my parents had. Rafe never broke eye contact, even when he shifted his posture to lean against the framework, crossing his ankles while his hands stayed in his pockets. His smirk turned into a devilish grin that wreaked nothing but chaos. He sent chills that vibrated my bones, and even once received was not sufficient enough for the goosebumps coming to life on my neck.

I stared at the walkway in front of me, with each step the pit in my stomach grew. I could feel his eyes on me like the force of rain during a downpour. The closer we were, the weight of his stare grew even more burdensome. I felt so compliant around him, so timid. I finally reached the top of the stairs, I swung my arm out to grab the handle but Rafe had already beaten me to it. My hand gently landed on his, my anxiety quickly rising as I ripped mine back to me. His daunting smile let out a faint chuckle that only I could hear.

“If I don't get the door for you, I'm sure I'll hear about it later from my dad.” His tone was so taunting, as if he wanted me to react. I continued through the entry room, following the long narrow hallway to the backside of the home. Sarah was sitting on the love seat that was shared by her younger sister Wheezy. She wasted no time swiftly moving her head to look at the shadowed figure stepping into the light of her living room. Sarah immediately shot up, pushing everything from her lap directly on top of her sister. I prepared my body for the impact of Sarah’s as she pulled me in. We stayed continuously hugging for what felt like forever—neither of us comprehending quite yet that we were in reality. Ward hurried with the luggage, trying to push us in and assign us our rooms. We wasted no time getting ready for bed, I was anxious for what my tomorrow would bring.

I ended up sleeping in for far too long though, waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs way past the time I should be. Shooting myself up off the floor, I scurried into the bathroom across the hall. I shut the door quickly and immediately started the shower water. The only problem was that I forgot the clothes I needed to change into, so I wrapped a towel around me as my hair stayed drenched. Cracking the door open, I checked the hallway making sure nobody was able to witness the embarrassment I was about to endure. I darted across the hall, running through the entry of the bedroom I assumed was mine. I slammed the door a little too hard before turning around to look for my nonexistent clothes on the floor. Rafe, laying down on his bed, props himself up using his forearm and elbow.

“Since when did we share a room?” I jump by the sudden question asked towards me, not prepared to potentially be interrogated. I almost lose my towel in the process while Rafe begins to chuckle at my distress.

“Excuse me?” I questioned as I felt my face starting to warm as his stare intensed.

“You’re excused.” He replied with a smirk as his tone quickly became playful, I started to become flustered before popping off on him.

“You disrespectful brat! All of our interactions have ended with me being uncomfortable. You couldn’t even open the door for me out of courtesy when we first arrived! Now I'm here, sitting in a towel and you won’t even get up and help save me from this embarrassment! You’re such a jackass.” My voice started to raise as the fire within me started to spread.

Rafe shot up out of the bed as if he was being demanded to by a drill sergeant. His mood switched, intimidating was an understatement. He approached me with the same devilish smile he once had just last night, his hand reached out to hold my jaw—gentle yet firm. My breathing stopped, I couldn’t even say a word to him. Rafe brought his mouth to my ear, the closer he got the more submissive I became.

“Do you really want me to leave?” His voice made my skin crawl, my heart started pounding and my breathing came back but in manual.

“Get off of me, you mutt.” I smacked his hand away from my face which caused him to laugh before his tone shifted once again and he turned away from me.

“Get out.” He demanded. I felt even more embarrassed, I glanced at my feet noticing that I still wasn't dressed yet and it was going on late morning. I started to make my way to the door as Rafe seated himself on his bedside, I grabbed the handle and swung open his door. Walking out as if I meant to, I attempted to keep my confidence. I knew all too well that he watched me leave, my mom’s words played in my head as I proceeded down the hall once more. A dog will always remain a dog.

I finished getting dressed before making my way to the kitchen, my mom already had a cup of coffee waiting for me.

“What happened to you? I heard you get out of the shower and then it took you quite some time to get ready.” My face began to burn, Rafe’s words replicating a broken record in my head. My eyes wide open looking down at my feet with the mug full of coffee to my mouth, I sipped at it before placing it back down onto the island where she was sitting.

“I had some trouble with putting my outfit together.” I replied, hoping that was enough to get her off of my back. I couldn’t exactly tell her what happened or she would take it as a connection and mentally start wedding planning.

“Y/n! Come over here!” Sarah yelled from the back patio. My mom shaking her head in approval, I went on my way from the previous conversation and walked into an even more enlightened one. Sarah approached me with a growing smile while pulling what looked to be Topper away from Rafe whom he was actively having a conversation with. Rafe from afar glanced over at them approaching me before sitting down on patio furniture and gluing his face to his phone.

“Y/n, I wanted you to be reintroduced to my now boyfriend, Topper.” Sarah announced as I smiled, knowing that eventually they would connect. Topper has always had something special for Sarah, it was only a matter of time before she noticed.

I stepped aside from the conversation, staring off into the distance, watching the waves ever so lightly wash against the dock and the sailboats glide effortlessly against the water. I missed this, but I missed my friends more than anything. I stood there, with my mug in my hand and the coffee sitting dormant inside soon growing cold. Dreaming of the moment I see them, the Pogues.

Then, as my imagination settled, a figure started walking towards the house from the dock. Taking all of my attention away from my long forgotten wishes, they looked worn from a long day's work. When they grew closer to the back patio we shot each other a curious glance, our eyes locked which then became intense within seconds. I lost my grip, everything going numb before the mug shattered beneath me.

John B.

My lifelong best friend, walking through the yard of my now greatest enemy. Not one soul wasted time to come to my side, except for Rafe. He kept a glare on John B. as he continued down the pathway, you could see in his dark malevolent eyes that he was not welcomed here by him. Meanwhile, Ward ran to us from around the house while my mom and Rose came from the back doors.

“Y/n are you okay!? What happened!?” My mom grabbed my wrists and pulled me to her for a reply.

“N-nothing mom, I'm fine. Please.” I pushed away from her, running inside as Ward cleaned the pieces of porcelain. I went straight to the bathroom, not even sparing a moment to close the door. I turned on the cold water from the sink, staring motionless at the unrecognizable girl in the mirror while my eyes started to burn as the tears formed. I cupped the freezing water before bending over to splash it on my face, hiding any evidence of my emotion.

“I can’t believe I'm asking this but, are you okay?” With both hands gripping the bathroom counter I turned my head sharply to the door, Rafe stared at me with one eyebrow slightly raised while keeping one hand on the doorframe for support as he stood. I gave an angry chuckle before I collected myself.

“Yes, I'm fine. You can go now.” I seethed, Rafe rolled his eyes before making his way back down the hallway, mumbling the entire time before he stepped outside and back to tending to his dad’s needs. I wouldn’t go back outside, solely to prevent myself from becoming even more embarrassed by the scene I left behind. I went into the kitchen, watching my mom and Rose laugh over something that I had absolutely no interest in hearing about. Rose kindly handed me a glass of water before asking if I was okay. I felt myself turn pink, before I could even thank her and reassure her Sarah ran in from outside.

“Y/n! If you’re up for it, Topper wants to take us out for a ride in his new boat?” I turned to my mom waiting for her approval before running away from this nightmare. She sent me a soft smile before returning to her gossip session. I followed Sarah back out to the patio, ignoring the urge to apologize a hundred times for the mess I had created.

The boat wasn’t much to brag about, I don’t even remember the name of it honestly. I did enjoy the scenery though, and being able to let the water hug my fingers as we cruised back toward the dock. As we pulled up to tie off Rafe just couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer

“So Y/n, why did you freak out like that back there at the house?” He questioned with an upward curve forming at the corner of his mouth. It made Sarah and Topper turn their heads to give me their full attention, and I couldn’t help but to glare at Rafe. This made him smile, his sunglasses hiding his eyes that had probably nothing but pure enthusiasm as he taunted me.

“So Rafe, why did you come check on me when I ran inside?” I teased, his smile soon fading while Sarah and Topper turned their heads back forward, hiding the smiles they held from the total humiliation they had just witnessed. Rafe had nothing to say but I felt accomplished knowing I officially put the pretty boy in his place, reminding him that two can play his game.

Once Topper tied the boat off we all hopped out. Rafe was of course the first one while I was last, which I didn’t mind because I wouldn’t want the help out. We all walked back to the house together until I realized I had forgotten my sandals, I turned around not even sparing a second to tell anybody. I hopped back into the boat and within seconds had found them, once I stepped out a familiar voice chimed in my ears.

“Hey there, stranger.”

My heart skipped a beat as I instinctively turned my head to look on the second level of the yacht that sat beside me. We made eye contact before I cracked a smile.

“I'll be damned; John B. Routledge.” I replied, he already had a glowing smile on his face, the same one as when we first met in school.

“Why don’t you come down here so we can be on the same level?” I tried to convince him, but luckily for me he had the same idea. John B hurried down, grabbing onto the side of the boat for him to throw himself over. While running to me to trap me in a hug, the strongest one I've been in so far. He pulled away from me but not letting go just yet.

“Y/n, you have to come to the bonfire tomorrow night. Everybody will be there and I know Kie, Pope and JJ would love to see you.” He encouraged me as I froze, not knowing how to explain that my parents absolutely despised him and the Pogues.

“I’m sure we will see each other. I know Topper and Sarah have been talking about going while we were out today.” I replied warily. John B had a concerned look on his face that had a splash of frustration before popping the one question I wished he hadn’t.

“So, you’re hanging out with the Kooks now?” I pushed him away from me.

“It's not as easy as you think it is to go back to how I once was; I have strict rules to follow and if I want to stay here for as long as I intend to do so, I have to play along.” I retorted as he stared at me wide-eyed. I knew he was confused and probably a little hurt by my reaction but that was the easiest way to tell him. I was suffocating myself staying in that home but I had another six days to try to prove to my parents that we should come back.

“I’m sorry John B., but my parents told me the only way I could come back is if I stay away from you. But -” I bit my lip, staring off into the horizon as the sun started to trinkle its way down to the water. John B grew impatient while I questioned myself to tell him my plan.

“But what Y/n?” He whined, making me snap out of my trance.

“But—if they just think I am a Kook, then they should get convinced quickly. Making it easier to hang out with you, since you know…they won’t be keeping a close eye on me.” John B sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as he kept a stare down at the boards of the dock.

“I mean, I don’t think we have any other choice.” He replied looking back up to me, a soft smile formed once more on his face.

“Look at it this way; we finally got the Pogues back.” I smiled in response, it felt refreshing talking to John B. His voice reminded me of the soft waves as they caress the sand on the shore, the crackle of a fire that's burning at night to devour the darkness around you.

“I will see you tomorrow John.'' I smiled as I turned away from him.

“Don’t keep me waiting Y/L/N.” he replied as I started my way back to the house, blushing with a smile as I continued down the dock.

John B. was my best friend. I would be lying if I said he wasn't cute, but my eyes were on somebody else—precisely from a year ago. I stepped in through the doors that welcomed me back into the kitchen. Ward had taken Rose and my parents out for a nice dinner on the water for a warm welcome home. Sarah, Topper and Wheezy got dressed in time for the remaining two hours to be filled with laughter in the pool out back. I rounded the corner into the hallway before I was stopped by none other than Rafe, he was leaning against the wall with a look of disappointment growing on his face.

“So what was that all about?” He questioned, I stood there making awkward eye contact. Was he watching me?

“Hello?” Rafe poked once more, I furrowed my eyebrows before sending him an attitude.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” I pushed myself past him as he turned to watch me leave.

“It could be mine or it could be your parents’.” He barked back to me. I stopped walking as he slowly progressed towards me. I stood in fear of what my parents would do if they ever knew. I could feel his presence behind me, the goosebumps rising on my back and arms like a mountain range protruding through my skin. I turned around, finally gaining the courage to face him.

“Excuse me?” The anger spilling through my teeth.

“You heard me.” Rafe shot back at me, as if he planned out exactly what I would say to him. He lived for this, the mess he creates in my head and the endless ways he taunts me just to get me to react. He was a soulless, mediocre bastard of a person. The devil was such an understatement at this point, I only wanted to hit him but I wouldn't hear the end of it from my parents.

“Leave them at the cut, Y/n. You’re on figure eight now. You need to start acting like it.” I scoffed at him before ditching the conversation by walking away and into the guest bedroom I was staying in. Rafe followed, but stayed at the door.

“Don’t think that I don’t know how bad you want to come home, if I was you I would hang with us.” He suggested, I sit on the bedside before looking over to Rafe, one eyebrow raised before laughing at him.

“You really think I want to be friends with you? Sarah is the only kook I actually enjoy being around, but you? You are a plague that walks the earth, you only want to cause harm and enjoy watching as everything falls apart. I would never want to be associated with you, ever.” I felt my rage start to rummage through me as Rafe rolled his eyes before shutting the door, mumbling some more as he made his way back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

I put myself to bed, anxious that Rafe now has something to control me with, but how did he know that I wanted to come home? I’ve only told Sarah, and I know she wouldn’t ever tell Rafe anything, so was he eavesdropping? I brushed it off ultimately, it doesn’t matter how he found out. What matters now is that he knows.

After my cup of coffee with my mom the next morning, I wasn’t too excited to be having to go to the bonfire with the Kooks, but I don’t really have a choice right now. I tagged along with Sarah for the afternoon while Topper and Rafe did. I don’t know, Topper and Rafe things?

“So Y/n, what made you change your mind about the bonfire? When Topper and I brought it up, you seemed super uninterested.” Sarah didn’t hold back her question as she was incredibly suspicious. It caught me off guard so I took a minute to think about my response.

“Honestly, I just needed to get out and enjoy myself since I'm not promised more than this week.” I lied while the pit in my stomach grew. What if I don't stay? What if I go back? I couldn’t stand the thought of it, but I had to prepare myself for the worst. Sarah didn’t seem too convinced with my answer, giving me a raised eyebrow with a smirk following really gave it away.

“Okay, well we need outfits for tonight. Almost everybody in the OBX will be there, sometimes school aged visitors show up too if they’re looking to get away from their family.” Sarah continued on about the bonfire, while I searched through the never ending clothes racks. We finally finished our shopping spree and made it back in enough time to get ready for the fire. I was a tad anxious not knowing if I looked good in what I picked. Honestly though, every woman out here has the same fashion sense unless you're a visitor. As Sarah was finishing up I gradually made my way to the kitchen, lazily pouring myself a glass of water before becoming interrupted with an unwanted guest. Leaning against the counter’s edge closest to me, Rafe rested his chin in the palm of one of his hands while sneakily trying to reach under the cabinet for his father’s whiskey with the other.

“Can I help you?” I mucked up the courage to speak while avoiding any eye contact, back facing the glare I knew he was giving me.

“Your shorts, pull them down some.” He spoke as if he was agitated, I immediately felt the rage take over my body once more as if I was becoming a wildfire that couldn’t be put out.

“How dare you comment on my shorts! You don't own me nor my body nor my mind, and I will never and I mean absolutely never do a single thing you tell me to do!” I screamed at Rafe in a tone as if I was scolding a troubled teen, but he wasted no time to crack a smile before chuckling a bit, switching positions so his back can rest on the wall behind him and tucking his hands back into his front pockets before closing his eyes and pulling his head down towards the floor beneath him.

“I never said to take them off, but when your shorts are riding so high that it looks as if your ass is suffocating it just looks…I don't know, it's funny.” He replied with a soft attitude, the embarrassment raced across my face as if it was in a marathon going for first place. Swiftly yet unsuspiciously, I grabbed the bottom of one side of my shorts as I tightened the grip I had on the glass with my other, tugging the god forsaken things down as much as I could. Rafe had a steady grin while keeping his eyes closed, knowing only too well what I was doing. I gulped down the cold water before flipping the glass upside down in the kitchen sink, then without a second thought started my way back to Sarah’s room. Leaving Rafe with his new found bottle of whiskey, and the satisfied smirk he continued to hold onto that only made the night jealous with how dark its intentions were.

I quickly stepped into Sarah’s room, shutting the door with my back before elegantly sliding down until my bottom touched the freshly installed carpet. I shut my eyes before exhaling the breath I held in for what felt like eternity.

God, I hate him.

My mind was full of anger while my body said otherwise, I couldn’t ignore the fact I desired him. Everything he does, he knows it’s working as if he needs me to want him. As if he wants me to need him.

“How does this look?” Sarah’s voice intruded my thoughts. Luckily, she didn’t seem concerned for my growing silence moments after following the slight blush spreading across my cheeks.

“I think you look great. Are you finally ready?” I quickly spoke, before jumping to my feet with a mask of excitement that only hid pure anxiety. We made our way down the spiral staircase, following Sarah’s lead as we made it to the last step. My fingers effortlessly slid down the white handrail as every imperfection of the wood protruded from the thick sealant, so well that I was forced to acknowledge the splinter left behind from it. I winced at the pain as Sarah bolted to Topper, jumping into a hug which resulted in the air being filled with laughter.

I realized a little too late that I should’ve brought a jacket to the bonfire. The ocean left little kisses on my cheeks as the breeze picked up, which carried the slightest bit of mist from the crashing waves in the distance.

“Y/n?” Topper spoke out softly, my concentration returning to him as I snapped out of the trance that the water had on me.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I asked, ignoring the worrisome look on his face as he continued.

“Why exactly do you wear that ring all the time? You’re not like, engaged are you?” You shared a quick chuckle with the blond as you mindlessly played with the tiny band with your thumb, examining the delicate piece of silver that carried a microscopic engraved heart. Your mother requested it to be on there, she said it would add character or something like that.

“Oh, this little thing? It’s a purity ring, gifted to me by my parents for my birthday last year.” I answered, glancing back up to Topper who was taking another swig of his beer before lowering the bottle with a soft sigh and pink cheeks.

“Oh, interesting. Uh, do you see Sarah anywhere? She said she was grabbing herself another drink but she never came back.” He asked as the air thickened with tension, his eyes frantically scanning the faces of the individuals in front of us.

“I just want to make sure she’s o…” I turned to face him, curious yet concerned about what had made him lose his train of thought. His eyes darkened while his knuckles turned white from gripping the now empty bottle in his hand, I couldn’t get a word out before he made his way forcefully through the hoard of people in between us and his target.

I scan the crowd ahead of him before my eyes land on Sarah talking to John B. My heart started racing as I prepared myself for the conflict about to happen. Looking at my surroundings frantically, I feel a hand snake around my waist.

“Now, how has the Kook life been treating you?” A familiar voice spoke out while leaning towards my ear, the music so loud it was almost impossible to think.

My heart fluttered as every butterfly made its way to my stomach as I turned to face him, JJ’s smile matching mine as we sat in silence for what felt like eternity. I would leave this Kook life within a blink of an eye if it meant I could stay here in this moment with him forever, and surely by the looks of it, he felt the same. I glanced down at my beer, a soft pink grew on my cheeks but luckily the dim light of the fire hid my embarrassment quite extensively.

“Terrible.” I whispered, looking back into his eyes with only inches of separation between us. His breath reeked of bourbon and cigarettes while his eyes searched mine, as if trying to find the life they once emitted. Sadness soon filled the space between us as the memories washed over him and I. We stood in complete silence as if we were waiting for the other to speak, sharing the suffocating tension we had created. I stepped towards him, never breaking the gaze we held as I wrapped one arm around his neck and closed the space between us with a hug.

“I just want to come home J.” I whimpered in his ear while trying my best not to shed a tear, especially not at a party full of Kooks.

“Then come home, baby.” JJ hummed before hugging me tightly. Before I could process what I had just done, a scream echoed through the area and I remembered.

Topper.

[wintercloudyweather]

(note the art is from the official Honkai Bilibili page in Chinese)

I’m a big fan of found family troupes and I just recently watch “Instant” Family.

So I had this brainrot for while now where Seele, Jing Yuan, Luocha and the Stellaron Hunter trio were turn into kids by an emanator of Aha as a prank. So now Trailblazer and Firefly are now responsible for taking care of 6 children with little recollection of their adult selves. So lets start with some general fluffy headcannons

Seele

•Seele gives wild child energy, she’s rebellious and spunky at first but she is also when to be responsible

•She probably runs around the Astral express all day without slowing down.

•She does help clean up messes especially when it her or the other children’s fault.

•She sometimes listen to the radio but gets board after a while. She often hangs out with PomPom exploring ever inch of the astral express.

•While she rarely starts fights she makes sure to finish them and she doesn’t hesitate to throw hands wether your man, woman or child. If you mess with her you better believed that she is going to get even.

•She knows how to sew and is often repairs her and the other kids clothes as she doesn’t want to spend any money as she is very thrifty. She even joins the Trailblazer sometimes in Garbage rummaging to see if she can find any spare fabrics or items she can reuse

•She loves to watch Grandpa Welt make animations all day and She is loves watching Sam all day thinking that she’s a real life superhero.

•Her favorite game is hide and seek as she can either play the part of the seeker and hunt other people down or she can use her quantum powers and disappear among the sea of butterflies to hide all day. Trailblazer and Firefly were particularly anxious when its been hours since Seele “hid” and they couldn’t find her, they even had to coax her to come out of hiding with ice cream.

• She gets along with the other five but she isn’t particularly close with any of them. She likes playing fighting games with Silver Wolf but she rather spar In real life. Blade, Kafka and Luocha unnerves her for some reason and she find Jing Yuan too lax for her liking.

•Bronya wanted to take full custody of Seele that almost led to a heated court trial under the IPC, She managed to relent and gave sole custody of Child! Seele to the astral express with the stipulation of nightly video calls. Himeko even talked with Bronya about ways to contact Sampo to see if he knows any way to reverse the Childification of the 6 children.

•Seele likes Natasha and when the trailblazer is at Belebog she often goes to Nat’s clinic and helps her with a few errands. She is an honorary member of the moles and is quite close with Pitch Dark Hook the Great. Hates Sampo guts though. She also hates how Luka teases her.

Jing Yuan

• Jing Yuan true to his title, is the sleepy kid. He sleeps alot, only ever being awake when he finds something interesting.

• He can often be found dozing in the strangest of places from The Data Bank to behind a potted plant, ever nook and cranny are Jing Yuan’s potential nap spots

•He loves playing chess and any other board games, it one of the few things he finds interesting so if you want him to be serious then just set the game and its match!

•He loves playing with cats and often tries to sneak them on the express at the expense of PomPom’s rage and Firefly’s scolding him. One time he tried to sneak in a whole lion cub, but was unfortunately caught and grounded by Firefly.

•He has very neat handwriting

• He has a strange obsession with Dan Heng, with him being Jing Yuan “Favorite” person, often sleeping in the Data Bank and helping Dan Heng organize the Bank.

•He still has lighting Lord so if at any time he or the other kids are in danger he’ll summon it.

•Him and the Trailblazer are more like brothers but you often can’t tell which is the older one based on their attitudes.

• He and Seele are ok with each other often having a distant but amicable relationship, they sometimes join forces to reel the Stellaron Trio. Him and Silverwolf often play games with him winning any game that isn’t a video game. He tried to befriend Child! Blade with little success as the latter brushes him off constantly. He disliked Luocha for constantly lying and he doesn’t trust Kafka as well.

•Fu Xuan teased him all about his new Child! Form and assert dominance as she and Jing Yuan are the same height now only to be reminded that she is still shorter because she is wearing heels.

•Yanqing fins it odd that the General is so young now but they still spar quite often, he considers calls this Jing Yuan as “Mini General”. Most of their fights often land in a draw

• Sushang and Guinafen tries to acts as the cool aunties to him as they basically drag him all over the luofu. Bailu and him become best friends as Child! Jing Yuan often helps her hide from the Alchemy commission.

•Yukong gifts Trailblazer and Firelfly some parenting tips as she knows how difficult it is to raise on child but she can only imagine how much stressful it is to raise six

•While initially the Xianzhou Luofu was in disarray over their “missing” general, Fu Xuan was able to foresee this and with the a little bit of Forgery managed to keep Jing Yuan child state as secret for now with Fu Xuan acting as the General due to Jing Yuan taking a much needed break.

_______________________________________________

Note: I’ll do the other 4 later,

This is my first ever attempt at writing and actually posting it. I wanted to thank @moonsaver for inspiring me to write, their care package series is the phenomenal and Its a recommended read.

This brainrot was also partially inspired by the BNHA ao3 fanfic “I don’t run an orphanage” by Kyodon.

[rmoonstoner]

Kinktober 2023

***

Theme:

4 - Incubus Sex (Monster fucker)

***

Warnings:

18+, darkish setting (surviving zombie apocalypse), angst, fluff, smut, vampires (oppressive dominate species and blood drinking is mentioned a lot), a monster with a hero complex (Stephen coming to save you), monster fucker smut, sex with monster style Stephen, oral (sucking tentacles), tentacle sex, p in v sex, cream pie, oral, size kink, vibrating tentacles, anal play, double penetration, come shower

***

Pairing:

Doctor Stephen Strange x Fem!Mystic!Reader 

(Past relationship mentioned)

Watcher/Eldritch Being Doctor Stephen Strange Supreme x Fem!Mystic!Reader

(Current relationship)

***

Please note:

Writing this made me both cry and very horny. I love writing about evil monster men that get redemption and now act like soft and gentle golden retrievers.

I did not have a proofreader.

***

Summary:

Your husband died a long time ago, during the outbreak. There was never a cure found, but a vaccine was made with Doctor Morbius's blood. Unfortunately, instead of a world of humans being eaten by zombies, it's now a world of humans being eaten by vampires. You're one of the few uninfected left, and a terrible fate is heading your way.

Until a familiar looking man comes to make a bargain with you, offering you salvation, but at the cost of leaving your universe forever.

***

Surviving this horrible hellscape was tough, but you managed to do it just fine, all by yourself, without your husband's help. Zombies had rolled through, covering half of the earth in just under a month. The great Doctor Morbius had discovered a vaccine to stop the spread of the virus, but that still meant people would be turning into monsters. Instead of zombies, they'd be vampires. Still, it was better than turning into a mindless decomposing corpse, so what did your people have to lose?

It had been years since that incident, and you had been lucky enough to avoid being bitten by a zombie, and contracting the virus. You were also lucky enough that you didn't turn into a vampire when you got the vaccine, but it did seem to stop allowing you to age. Apparently your blood was unique, and you wouldn't have been able to turn into a zombie either, if bitten.

You made a lot of money by selling your blood weekly at the local blood bank, and soon the vampiric citizens of New York were paying you top dollar for your blood. You were also an avid pot smoker, and that contributed to the price that your blood was worth.

But still, you missed your husband dearly, wishing he never died during the pandemic. You dreamt of him almost every night and when you didn't, you dreamt of your own death in so many horrifying and gruesome ways.

You grew tired as the weeks passed into months, and then into years. The people buying your blood started asking you to come in twice a week, to deal with the high demand, then three. You knew if you didn't, you'd be hunted down and forced to do it against your will. It was bad enough that the vampires kept harassing you to breed with other uninfected humans, just so they could have more livestock.

You sat at home, watching television and seeing a commercial about the company that marketed your blood. They advertised it like it was various soft drink brands, with yours being a luxury item like fine alcohol once was. You scowled and leaned back against your bed. You felt so fucking tired recently. You just wanted to hide away and not be bothered by anyone anymore.

You wanted your husband back so fucking badly.

You didn't want to be used as food any more, and since you stopped ageing, that was just going to be your life now.

Forever.

Eventually, you knew they'd stop being so nice in asking you to pick a partner and reproduce. You almost would have rather died when the zombies showed up. You sighed and laid down, closing your eyes and trying to think of a plan to get away.

***

A man dressed in an expensive suit greeted you with a wide smile and twinkling blue eyes. His hair was combed and gold back, just the way you liked it, and his goatee was freshly trimmed, allowing you to see his full and luscious lips.

It was your husband.

"Hello again, my dear. I am pleased you've come for another visit." He said smoothly as he produced a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He made them float all around you, with them morphing into glowing butterflies and bubbles.

"Hello, Stephen… I… I can't remember why I came here." You said softly, almost remembering that you were dreaming, when he chuckled. Stephen spread his arms out and engulfed you in an embrace. He felt warm and safe  The next moment, he was dancing with you in a large empty ballroom. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered sweetly.

"Does it really matter? We both know what's going to happen."

He spun you around and the scenery changed to a backdrop of stars. The floor was gone, leaving you both alone in the vastness of space as you kept dancing with him. It didn't feel scary, far from it. Your heart was pounding, stomach full of butterflies as he gazed into your eyes.

Gods, you missed this.

You missed him.

"No, I guess it does not." You murmured back. He drew you close and stuck his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply as his hands smoothed up your sides.

"It does not. What matters, is that you're here, safe, with me." He husked and nipped your ear lobe. You moaned as he kissed down your neck to your shoulder.

"Yes. I'm safe. With you." You softly replied as his kisses became needy and his hands got more adventurous. You felt him grab at your ass and push you up close to him so you could feel his desire for you. You whined at the hardness of his body while you grabbed his face and kissed him deeply.

He groaned, his free hand gliding up your back and into your hair. Stephen gripped your locks and pulled your head back as he placed open mouthed kisses and licks to your skin. Stephen hummed and dragged his teeth along your most sensitive areas, effectively turning your legs to jelly and making it hard to stand. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing your face into his shoulder and groaned as he started to suck on your skin. 

You could hear a deep rumbling noise coming from him, a gentle sounding growl as his hand moved from your ass and he pushed you backwards. You landed on something soft as kept his mouth on you, moving down your chest.

"This dress needs to go." He rumbled, and in an instant your dress was gone. He took his time with you, sucking purple marks into your skin at every sensitive spot you had along the way. You gripped his hair, whimpering and squirming for him as he gave each breast a good squeeze and a tantalizing lick to both nipples.

He moved down, bringing a hand to your wet pussy and slid a finger along your seam. You keened for him and lifted your hips, trying to encourage him to put it inside.

"Stephen… More, please?"

"I'll give you more, baby, but first, I need you to wake up and answer the door." He murmured softly and kissed your head.

"What? Why?"

"Because the real thing is so much better, don't you think? Now, wake up!"

***

You heard knocking at your door, and you huffed and rolled out of bed. It was still early, around 3:00am. Who the fuck would be bugging you at this hour? You really hoped it wasn't the security guard, coming to ask you if you had any spare bags of blood in your freezer again. You sighed and got up, going to answer the door, and finding no one there.

"What the fuck? Stop with your stupid games, and just come in already." You snapped and waited a moment as air rushed past you and towards the curtains in the living room. You closed and locked the door. After, you turned towards your freezer and grabbed a pack of blood.

"For fuck's sake, Carl. You don't have to do the super speed ghostly bullshit. I used to be married to the spookiest man alive, so cut the crap. If you wanted a bag of blood, you could have just asked-" You stopped talking when you turned around to see a tall dark figure looking out your window.

That did not look like Carl at all.

Carl was a short, round man with the best sense of humor. He looked and acted exactly like Danny Devito. It was really a shame he was a vampire.

But this guy…

This guy was not Carl.

This guy was over six foot tall, and was quite slender. Most of him was covered by a long black cloak with a very pointy collar. It threw you off, because it reminded you of your long dead love.

"Thank you for inviting me in." His voice was raspy, and you placed the bag of blood onto your counter as you processed the sound of his voice. He sounded strikingly familiar, but people had been known to fuck around and tease you for your past.

Fucking vampires. 

"Look, buddy. I don't know who you think you are, but this is private property. I don't take kindly to pranks." You said firmly as you grabbed a knife and held it calmly. The man turned to look at you, his yellow eyes twinkling as he chuckled softly.

"Knives aren't going to hurt me. Not ones made of Earthen Steel, anyways." He said as he took a slow step towards you. You found the knife was no longer in your hand, and now back in the block again. In its place was your favorite flower.

"Why are you here?" You asked, your body trembling in fear. You hadn't seen actual magic in a long time, and it frightened you.

"I'm here to remove you from this world." He continued with a sly smile. His voice was sounding more and more like Stephen's, and the simple magic trick was hitting you hard in the chest, like a knife.

"Okay, that's a fucking threat, isn't it?" Your voice cracked as if you tried not to cry.

"No, it's not. I'm not here to kill you, darling. I'm here to liberate you. No harm shall come to you, if you come with me. I want to keep you safe." He calmly replied as he lifted his hand in the air, showing off the strappy leather and cloth of his bracers, and flicked his wrist. The bag of blood in front of you floated up into the air, and to the open freezer, then the door shut with a gentle thud. For some reason, the tone in his voice was calming you down fairly quickly.  

"What? What does that even mean?" You asked.

"Silly girl. I feel great sadness within you. You miss your husband dearly, and wish he didn't die. You also wish to join him, but know he'd never want you to end your life to be with him. You wish to leave this world behind, but you don't want to die, correct?" His baritone voice was silky smooth, and you could feel your body react to it. Your skin was heating up at the way he was looking at you, hunger clearly evident in his amber eyes. It was still too dark to see his face very well.

"How… How did you know that?" Your voice cracked again, and he stepped into the light of the kitchen. You gasped when you recognized his face, your chest tightening as you tried to stay calm.

It was your husband, but that was impossible. He died a long time ago, and you missed him so much.

"I've been watching you, my dear. I've seen what you've been through, and managed to do here. While at first, I thought it was a noble sacrifice. You, willing to make such a commitment for your people to keep them alive, but your people quickly took you for granted and started asking too much of you. They have forgotten who you belong to."

"I don't belong to anyone, except Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, and he is dead." You remarked as a tear rolled down your face.

"Oh, I know. I've seen your entire life. The past, present, and all the future possibilities. I was very shocked to find you were linked to my variant. How very fitting, though, that one of me should hoarde such a beautiful and powerful magical energy source." He said and he leaned against the counter, flashing that signature trademark smirk your husband always wore.

"But you're not my husband, are you?" You asked, but he chuckled and changed the subject.

"That big pharmaceutical company that sells your blood… I am concerned for your well being. They want to breed you against your will, and feed off of your children the moment they come out of you. I find that disgusting." The pale man leaned lazily around your apartment and frowned. He turned back to you and pressed his hands against the counter. He didn't have any scars on his hands like your husband did. He quickly conjured up some documents and slid them towards you, and you looked down at them.

They were papers that showed the blood bank was going to acquire you as an object, with you losing your independence and autonomy. You would lose the right to choose what you did with your life. Even the plans for the next fifty years were clearly laid out a schedule for you to remain constantly pregnant with various sperm donors. You grimaced and shoved the papers off the counter in disgust.

"That's no life for a beautiful immortal such as yourself. I can offer you so much more. Something better, something brighter. A chance to do more with your life, instead of being a glorified cow. I won't ask for much in return, except to feed from you once a month, and for you to assist me while I watch over the Multiverse." The doctor explained as he conjured up a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"That sounds too good to be true. I have a hard time trusting vampires. Let alone ones that look exactly like my dead husband."

"I'm not the same kind of vampire, my dear." He laughed as he shrugged off his cloak and it wandered off to look out the window. It was different than the one you were used to seeing on him, which now belonged to Spider-Man.

"But you're… I watched you die, Stephen. Before they came out with the vampire vaccine." You pointed out. Again he snickered and poured some wine in both glasses.

"I am a variant of your dead doctor. I am an Eldritch being, not a vampire. I've absorbed so much magic, that my body has changed. I'm more like… A demonic God now, but I'm not evil." The doctor handed you a glass and he sat down on one of the barstools you had.

"How's that anything like a vampire?" You asked

"Do you know what an incubus is?"

"Yes… Wait… Oh my God."

"Ah, there we go. It's finally sinking in, isn't it?"

"So, you feed off of sex?"

"Yes, but also no. I need to eat, and I don't eat food much these days. What I do enjoy consuming, is raw energy or magic, which you are just dripping with, my dear. I can smell you all the way across the Multiverse."

"So… Does that mean… I have to…"

"Nothing. You just let me drain some of your magic, and I don't even have to touch you."

"Forgive me, Doctor, but I'm really confused."

"What's there to be confused about? You let me feed off your magic, and I take you away from this universe where they want much worse out of you. If not, you can stay here. It is your choice."

"But you mentioned you are like an incubus?"

"Oh, yes. That. If you allowed me to make love to you, I'd be sharing my powers with you, without the adverse effects that I suffer. But, I'm not going to ask that of you, since that might be cruel, given your-"

"Okay. Fine. Deal. Take me away. I don't want to be here any more. This place sucks, and you're hot." Uou said, and he looked very surprised.

"What?"

"You heard me, old man. Take me away, and you can incu my pussy as much as you want. I don't care that you're not my Stephen."

The doctor's face melted into a wicked smile and he raised his glass in a toast. You grabbed the other glass and tinked it against his, then had a sip of the wine. The liquid didn't taste at all like wine, so you coughed as you set the glass down.

"What was that? That wasn't red wine!"

You were panicking, because it tasted exactly like antifreeze with blood in it.

"No. It wasn't. It is my blood." He said calmly, his smirk growing wider. Your eyes went wide, and you made a disgusted face.

"Ugh, why? I'm not a fucking vampire. Blood doesn't taste good to me. Why does it taste like antifreeze?"

"Haha. My dear, I'm an abomination of nature and magic that exists outside of time and space. I shouldn't exist at all, yet I do. I exist, and I watch over all universes. In all of my years of witnessing millions of realities grow and perish, I have never once seen someone that should be up with me in the Watcher's area. Not even any of my variants. You don't belong down here, and you don't belong in any other universe."

"Okay, but that's not explaining exactly why you just tried to pass your blood off as wine."

"I need you to have some of my essence in you, otherwise the process will be painful. If you won't drink the blood, we have other ways to make the transfer."

"You've done this before?"

"Yes, but also, no." He said in that annoyingly self assured tone of his. Apparently this Stephen was much the same as yours once was.

"I'm starting to hate that phrase." You muttered and he chuckled as he stood up and conjured up a viewing orb, showing a woman with red hair.

The orb cycled through hundreds of ways that she died, with over half of them being accompanied by a younger looking and cleanly shaven version of Strange. You covered your mouth at the horrible ways she perished, and you felt tears forming when you saw his sorrowful reaction each time.

You knew the woman in question. Your Stephen had once been engaged to the one in this world, but they broke up swiftly after his accident. You had replaced her as the love of his life, until the day he died from being bitten by Christine. This variant of Stephen could sense your sorrow, and he placed a hand to your shoulder.

"I tried to save her, many times. I wasn't as wise back then, as I am now."

"Then you did end up saving her?"

"No. I destroyed my world for her, and when I did save her, she rejected the horrible creature I had become. I frightened her so much, she died again, and the look on her face told me I needed to stop. So, I did. I stopped. I became a Watcher, and I learned many new skills. I got over her, moved on, then I finally figured out how I can stop a Nexus event quite easily, without tearing a reality apart and corrupting it." He explained as he showed you on the orb what he really looked like. You crouched down and looked at his demonic form, sighing as you felt your heart ache for him.

"You're the only person I've ever done this to. I am hoping this time, you'll be better prepared, and there will be less complications down the line."

"This time?"

"Yes. Fear not, for I won't make the same mistakes I did last time. I've figured out that it's just easier to remove a person from a universe altogether, before their Nexus event can occur to kill them, instead of trying to stop the event by any other means. Then, I just simply don't return them to that universe. They will exist outside of their time and space."

"... You've done this before, and I died? But I'm… I am supposed to be immortal."

"You weren't the first go around. I figured changing your fate, and having Doctor Morbius be able to get his vaccine out would work much better. You see, I am able to twist time in any universe. I can look into the future, but when I do, I actually live through it, before deciding to go back. It's a standard feature on most Doctor Stranges."

"So is being frustratingly cryptic. How did I die?"

"The first time? My dear… I've seen thousands of possible futures for you."

"Ugh, tell me the first time that you actually had to interfere."

"Oh, well, I'd rather not. It was really quite gruesome. That's why I showed you the paperwork. That's exactly what happened to you. In fact, they are due in just a few hours to come and collect you. I turned the clock back, and now I am here to take you away. This world doesn't have anyone capable of coming to find you once I remove you from it."

You sat there quietly and fidgeted with your hands as you glanced at the door and then back at him. You thought back to the many dreams you kept having, and how they all involved your death, or this man. Most recently, they had become very dark and debauched fantasies of him fucking you in various ways, and less about you dying. When given the choice of being stuck here as a glorified farm animal, or going with another variant of your dearly departed husband to see the wonders of the Multiverse, you definitely were choosing the doctor.

Besides, even after seeing what he looked like in the orb compared to how his form was now… Both were very tempting. It was even more tempting he was a variant of your dead lover. You felt your face grow hotter as you thought about those very sexual dreams. Yes, that would be a much better future for you.

"Take me now. I trust you." You finally said while reaching out to grab his hand. His face softened, eye turning that soft baby blue you missed, and he gave you a warm smile, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"Good. Do you need to bring anything?"

"No."

***

The place he brought you to was very Strange, pun intended. It was a building in the middle of what looked to be a cluster of bright twinkling lights in outer space.

"That looks like home, the Sanctum Sanctorum…" You said softly, and Stephen placed a hand to your lower back 

"It is. I've replicated it perfectly to be my home, with much needed improvements." He whispered into your ear as his hand moved just slightly lower.

"It's way more beautiful than the one I've seen "

"Ah, yes, well… Better materials do go a long way. I've used a lot of rare metals and wood from across the Multiverse. Let me show you the inside."

***

He showed off the entire place, and as the tour progressed, you started to feel off. It wasn't in a bad way, but you found that you felt hot.

Down there.

He was just as much of a talker as your husband was, full of both useful and useless facts. You noticed the artifacts he had were very much different then the ones your Stephen had in his Sanctum, and he enjoyed telling you about any item you pointed at. He was nice about it, much nicer than your husband was. This one kept checking to see if you knew what things were, before offering the information up. He finally brought you to a large room that looked like an old English pub inside, and he sat you down at the bar, with him going behind it.

"I'm sure you'd like some real alcohol, now. I can assure you I have the finest you'll ever find anywhere." He declared happily while grabbing a fancy bottle of Kree Whiskey in one hand, and very elegant looking Asgardian Wine in the other.

"Sure. I want a slushed Bellini with raspberries in it."

He stared at you for a long moment, then slowly put both bottles down.

"You want prosecco?"

"Uh, well, no. I mostly just want a fancy, tangy peach and raspberry slushie, with booze in it."

"Ah, so may I put a different kind of alcohol in it?"

"Sure, why not? Give me something strong." You said firmly, and he went about making you a drink the old fashioned way, without magic.

"So, tell me more about this deal." You asked. He handed you the drink and you took it, smelling it and taking a sip. It tasted exactly how Stephen used to make them and you felt a pang of guilt as you sat here with some copy of your spouse.

"I need an assistant. Not a secretary type, but a partner to help me with overseeing and managing the Multiverse. My friend can only do so much by himself, and he's not allowed to interfere with any of the worlds he watches, but I am, and so are any I bring up here." He casually explained while pouring himself some of the wine.

"There are others here?"

"Just you, me, and Uatu. Uatu has his own area. You'll know him when you see him. Really big bald head, hates my jokes…" Stephen chuckled. The sound was like music to your ears.

"Tell me about you being an Incubus. I remember those dreams. Was that actually you, or was it my brain processing the world around me, because I miss my husband?"

"Oh, that was me."

"Go on."

"There's not much to tell, I'm afraid. I can feed in various ways. I can drain the life force from someone and leave a husk behind. I could straight up devour the entire being, leaving nothing left, or… Or I could use the pleasures of the flesh, and not harm the person I am feeding off of." He sounded quite honest, and that's when you realized you had already been having sex with this man, but in your dreams.

Those overly vivid and realistic dreams that left your panties soaked when you woke up.

A sinful throb beat between your thighs at the thought, and you gave him a playful grin as you reached out and placed your hand on his.

"Oh… Well I don't think I want to be a husk, or eaten. You know, unless my pussy is the one being drained and eaten." You said in a sultry voice. His eyes flashed a dark amber.

"I'd rather fill you up after I eat you."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You drank the rest of the Bellini and made a pleased sigh.

"My dear, I don't make threats anymore. I just do it."

"Then stop talking already, and show me what you can do."

Stephen grinned wickedly and snapped his fingers. Everything was replaced by a nicer looking version of your old bedroom that you used to share with Stephen in the Sanctum. You gasped as he pushed you down to the bed and kissed you passionately.

You moaned into his mouth as your tongues danced, and his hands tore your clothes away from your body, almost violently. His hands grabbed at your hips as he chuckled and banished his clothing away. Stephen was nudging himself between your legs, when you put a hand to his chest and stopped him. He furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Wait…"

"Have you changed your mind?" He asked, a look of hurt flashing through his eyes.

"No… But I want to see you for what you really are when we do this." You said and his face fell into surprise.

"I don't think you'd like that very much." He finally said, his mouth turning into a doubtful frown.

"I saw you in the orb. You don't scare me."

"I only showed you the tamest part of my true form." He muttered bitterly. You reached up and grabbed his face, bringing him down so you were nose to nose.

"I loved my husband with all of my heart. I was devastated when he died. I know you are not him, but I still feel that same connection of love in your presence, like he never left me…" You begged him as you kissed his lips gently.

"But-"

"Please, Stephen?" Again you begged, kissing his cheek and along his neck. He groaned and reared back to look at you.

"Alright. I will show you. I'll understand if you wish to leave. I can put you somewhere nice that I know you'll like and-"

"Stephen. Shut the fuck up and show me what you look like."

He huffed and nodded while his skin darkened slowly. Bit by bit, it became a deep ashy purple, with a sheen of glittery red on it. His eyes went back to being that slitted, dark sunset orange, and he started to grow several multicolored eyes on his forehead and the side of his face. Large horns protruded from his head, and his cloak melted into his back, becoming large leathery wings.

But the most striking thing about him, were all the fucking tentacles.

"You hate it, don't you?" He asked, his voice laced with shame.

"You're beautiful." You breathed back and smiled brightly at him.

"What? No, that's not… I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. That's amazing… Are they… Dangerous?" You asked as you sat up and reached out to grab one of his tentacles. The one you tried to touch, recoiled away from you.

"Sometimes, if I need them to be."

"May I… May I touch it? Please?"

"If that is what you want." He sounded very unsure as the appendage unfurled and rested on your palm. You stared at it and reached up to touch it with your other hand.

It was soft, and not at all slimey, like you thought it would be. Your fingers gently ran over the length of what you could reach. The skin there felt a bit rough, but the underside with the suckers was soft, and very much felt like…

"Oh… Careful now. If you keep that up, I won't be able to stop myself."

You felt your face heat right up at the statement. You looked at his main two eyes as you stroked around each sucker, watching him twitch and grunt. You grinned at him, and decided to see what he would do if you licked it. The impulse was too much to hold on to, and you leaned forward, eyes still locked with his, and gave the girthy appendage a long lick. Stephen groaned, all of his eyes closing halfway as he watched you suck the tip into your mouth.

"Fuck…"

You swirled your tongue around the tip, feeling every little circle, dip, curve, and edge. He groaned and leaned forward, caging you in with both hands as he rested his forehead against yours.

"I've never… No one has touched me like this before…" He growled, his voice beginning to warp and sound more like the deep echoing of Eldritch voices you used to hear when your husband cast spells. Your heart fluttered, and your pussy throbbed from the nostalgia.

You took him deeper into your mouth, tongue rolling over his skin as you reached out and grabbed another tentacle. He curled that one around your wrist as you gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing forth another deep moan from him. Your hand left the one at your mouth, going to grab yet another, but this time you placed it between your legs.

He almost wanted to ask what you were doing, when you leaned back and pulled on him. He moved with you, hovering over your body as you spread your legs for him. Stephen hummed as he looked down, another deep rumbling noise emanating from him while he watched you rub him against your wet entrance.

"You're so wet…"

Stephen twitched, but he didn't dare prod you with it. The tentacles that weren't on your body were coiling in anticipation as you took the one in your mouth out with a loud slurp. You gave him a sultry look and placed the wet appendage to your breast.

"Don't be scared, Stephen. I am not as fragile as you'd think." You said, and pressed him against your breast, squeezing softly to encourage him to move it by himself. Your hand pushed the tip of his other tentacle to your clit and you rubbed it in circles. He let out multiple groans and purring noises.

"It's hard not to be, my dear. I could snap you in half with just a thought."

"You sound like my husband." You teased him in a breathy whisper, hands still trying to encourage him to touch you.

"I am your husband…" He groaned and before you could register what he had said, or the meaning behind it, he brought a few more tentacles down to touch you experimentally. You felt two of them curl around your ankles, slowly spreading them farther apart as the one on your breast squeezed and wrapped the tip around your nipple. 

"Ohhh… Stephen… Just like that." You murmured softly as one of the suckers melded over your nipple, perfectly covering it, before it started to pulse. Another one curled around your other breast, giving it the same attention and working them in a good rhythm. You whined and pushed your hips up while rubbing him against your clit. More tentacles crept out, one wrapping around your other wrist, snaking its way up your arm and cupping your chin. Stephen leaned down, almost close enough to kiss.

"You're so soft… And warm…" Stephen hummed as he coiled more and more of his tentacles up and around your limbs and torso. He brought a large hand to your back, pulling you closer as he looked into your eyes.

He saw how they shined for him, even half lidded as he slowly pushed into your pussy. Your breathing quickened as he pushed deeper and deeper, slowly pushing the thicker parts in,  while the tip slipped back out to curl over your clit. You keened and he kissed you, groaning into your mouth as he slithered all over you.

"Stephen…" You breathed his name, causing him to grunt as a tentacle slowly snaked up your leg and cupped your ass. You felt more, pulling and tugging at your cheeks, with one going to catch the slick that dripped from your pussy, before probing your backdoor.

"Sweet girl… Fuck… How are you this wet?"

"Because of you, Stephen. Because it's you." You murmured back as you felt him move, sliding his thick muscle in more, stretching you wider as another one slipped inside to find your gspot. It felt amazing, feeling two of them writhe inside of you.

"May I… May I put one in your ass?" He growled while rubbing your tight ring of muscle.

"Please." You answered softly. Your hands came up to his face again, fingers gliding up to his horns. He let out another deep sounding growl and shut his eyes.

You felt your asshole slowly being dipped into, then with a sudden sensation of liquid being applied, he pushed in easily. Your head went back as you gasped and panted, feeling three tentacles wiggling inside of you.

"Fuck… You're something else, you know that right? Anyone else would be terrified right now…"

"Th-that's what my h-husband used to saaay- Oh fuck! W-when he used sex magic on meee..." You sassed back as you licked his cheek.

"Shit… What… What sort of things did he used to do to you?" Stephen asked, his mind already spinning a million images as to what his variant did to you.

"Sensory intensifying spells, lubricating spells, g-ghostly touches, mag-gic vibratory aids…" You started to list some things off, and when you mentioned the last one, you suddenly felt intense vibrations coming from each one of his limbs.

"Oh… Gods… Fuck… That feels so g-good!" Your breath came out rushed as he pushed in deeper with all three of them. The way he throbbed and pulsed was amazing, like a designer toy made just to make you come. You felt so full, and it was glorious.

"So pretty… So divine… How could such a beautiful angel like you, let a monster like me do this to you…? You dirty little thing… Fuck…" Stephen husked and slowly put more pressure on each of your sweet spots. You yelped and thrashed, feeling your pussy clench the closer you got to your release.

"I bet you let him double team you with himself, yeah?" He asked, his voice rough and deep as he started to thrust his tentacles in and out of you.

"Y-yes!" You whined back, feeling yourself get to the edge, but not quite able to jump off yet.

"Did you let him fuck you raw, and come inside you?" He asked, and again you whined.

So close…

"Fuck, yeah…"

"How about the multiple arms spell?" He asked as a tentacle slowly wrapped around your throat.

"Yeah… That was always a favorite of mine…" You sighed when he rubbed your cheek. That sigh quickly turned into a debauched moan as he jerked your body flush against his and started to fuck into you faster, the tentacles rubbing you just right.

"Fuck… You feel so wet… Your walls are clenching so tightly around me. I want to see you come." Stephen licked his lips as he turned the vibrations up.

You howled and felt your nerves snap, and you shook violently in his grasp as you came hard. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he grunted in pleasure as he fucked you through your orgasm. Stephen rumbled and leaned in, forehead pressed to yours as he watched you writhe and moan. The tentacles in your cunt slowed in their movements, and he slowly pulled them from your dripping hole. You stared at him as he brought them up to his mouth, his very long tongue coming out to lick your juices off of them.

"Fuck, that's hot…" You breathed as you tried to catch your breath. He glanced at you and grinned.

"Naughty girl…" Stephen hummed and slowly moved your legs, bringing your feet up high into the air as he positioned himself between them. You glanced down and gasped, eyes going wide like saucers when you saw just how big his cock was.

"Do you like what you see?" His voice was raspy as he made that purring sound. You shivered and stared at his dick. It was dark red, the bulbous head almost a royal purple as it oozed precome. He had thick veins running all over it, and it looked like he was ribbed! 

"Do you think it'll fit? I can make it smaller, more the size you're used to." Stephen asked in that teasing tone you missed so much.

How dare he think you couldn't handle that monster of a cock after he just had two thick tentacles in there!

"I can take it."

"Are you certain? I'll ruin you for anyone else."

"I don't want anyone else. I want you. Now please, Stephen, shut your big mouth and fuck me already!"

"So much confidence… That's hot…" Stephen remarked as he brought you closer, resting the large head of cock on your seam. He gently rubbed you, teasing you as he spread your lips with the tips of his tentacles. With a grunt and a gentle push, he nudged the head of his cock into you. You gasped, feeling him push inside, his girth stretching you far more than his tentacles had.

"Shit… Sssooo… So b-big…" Your voice cracked as he shoved in deeper while he carefully watched your reaction. You began to pant and squirm, fingers digging in harder into the meat of his shoulders 

"I can stop if-"

"No! Don't stop!"

You struggled to breathe as he pulled you closer, pushing his throbbing member in as deeply as he could. You whined as you felt his hips kiss yours, his cock bottoming out and pulsing. You felt his heavy balls resting flush against your ass.

"You're doing so well, my little minx. You've taken every last inch of me. Can you feel me deep inside of you? Can feel it throbbing, just for you?" He waited for a moment, allowing you to adjust and get used to his size as he cupped your face and kissed your forehead.

"Oh… Gods, y-yes… You feel so good…"

"As do you…" Stephen murmured back, then started whispering a spell into your ear. You felt pleasure tingle all over your body, nerves sparking with fire. Your eyes rolled back, back arching as he began to move his hips.

"Gods be damned… You feel absolutely heavenly…" Stephen growled as his tentacles squeezed and slithered all over your body. He sighed as he sped up, his hips slapping away at yours as he fucked you hard.

"St-stephen!" You called his name and tugged him closer to kiss him. He groaned and stuck his long tongue into your mouth, it sliding around and down your throat. You made small grunting noises as you breathed through your nose, the sensations overwhelming you, and you came.

He pinned you to the bed and pressed you down, his hips fucking up into your tight cavern over and over, sending your senses into overdrive as he pulled another orgasm from your body so quickly after the last. You would have screamed if he wasn't tongue fucking your mouth.

Your nipples suddenly surged with pleasure, and then the suckers on your clit started to send harsh vibrations to it. You gurgled and shook, feeling him draw yet another orgasm from your body. You felt his cock pulse and throb along with every tentacle he had wrapped around you. The one in your ass was purposely pushing against the thin wall between it and his cock, making your eyes roll back as you drooled excessively.

'I'm going to fill you so full…'

You heard his voice in your mind, and all you could do was take his harsh thrusts as he moved in and out of your holes.

You felt his cock throb, and a moment later, he was growling as you felt him spurt the first rope into you. You moaned, feeling more and more fill your womb directly, his come forcing its way out from the side of his cock, and dripping down your ass cheeks.

His come was so warm, and it sent tingles of pleasure through you as you felt the tentacle in your ass begin to fill you like his cock did. You felt warm and sticky, all the other limbs releasing gobs of come all over you. You felt him draw his tongue from your mouth, and he watched as you twitched and thrashed from overstimulation.

His hips slowed down, and then he finally stopped moving altogether, just resting inside of you as he rolled over with you in his arms. You laid on his chest, panting and huffing as his wings slowly wrapped around you, covering you in a warm embrace.

"Stephen..?" You gently asked as you stroked his chest.

"Yes?"

"I missed this so much…" You softly murmured. You felt him kiss the top of your head.

"And I missed you more." He replied as he stroked your shoulder and back with a few tentacles. He had one hand on your ass, the other holding your left hand, his thumb slowly stroking the wedding band that your husband had given to you. You hadn't taken it off since he died.

"Stephen..?" You asked again.

"Yeah?"

"Did you absorb my husband?" You suddenly asked. You felt him still and his hand gripped yours a bit tighter. You heard him swallow, and he took a deep breath.

"Would you be upset if I said yes?" His voice trembled as did his hands. You looked down and noticed the one you were holding had deep dark lines etched into skin.

"No." You sighed happily and nuzzled your face into his chest.

"Then yes."

"Okay. I thought so. I love you." You cooed and kissed his shoulder. He sighed back and held you a bit tighter.

"I love you, too, my dear. Thank you for waiting for me."

"Thank you for coming back to me."

***

@jumpdingus @ashreblogsnow

Tags:

[altosys]

random tpc headcanons

-spheer has a treenut allergy. idk, they just look like they would lol -ajaceare has a love-hate relationship with the harry potter franchise. like you bet your ass she'd know every single fact about it. -pentellow is pansexual. pantellow. -circubit cut his hair in his corrupted form. -iris is convinced via pentellow's cooking that al dente pasta is undercooked -pyrare would own a van if he had any type of vehicle -cubic would blast eminem in their headspace. just to piss cube off. -once circubit unmasks (if he even does mask at all) he becomes the most autistic motherfucker you'll ever meet. like once you accidentally bring up his spinterest there's no going back -circubit has chromesthesia (i once brought this up to brittany - the tpc creator brittany, not my headmate brittany - she probably saw it as a request so it might not end up as canon. oh well) -pentellow would abso-fucking-lutely be voiced by athena karkanis. ok maybe its because her nickname is a baking item, or because of her general personality, but yeah. (ok maybe she reminds me of sheree, so what) -ajaceare owns a bunch of potted plants. not just any potted plants, though. the specific gay ones. like the ones that lesbian witch cat-owners have. so in other words ajaceare is the epitome of lesbian. -dub has never tried tiger tiger ice cream (the orange and licorice one) and refuses to try it solely because "what kind of ice cream is orange" -cyanide has probably spent at least $150 from dub's bank account on claire's stuff. and 85% of it is pusheen merch. -iris grew up with watching salad fingers and jacksepticeye. -purpex is an esfp. -cintagon is autistic. idk they just dont seem allistic to me -pentellow's favourite total drama island character would be lindsay. -circubit's favourite total drama island character is chris mclean; he probably said "alright campers, todays challenge is..." every 3 seconds in his tdi phase. -cyanide enjoys murder drones -dub has tried to use corruption to make his hair fluffier -cube and cubic are literally just yin-yang from inanimate insanity. (aight brittany, where's the episode where the two find a vending machine and cubic wants dr fizz but cube wants water-) -circubit listens to lostwave -pyrare once caught barracuda and dub trying to make meth in his kitchen (it failed miserably, if pyrare wasnt there the house would've burned down) -circusic hates eminem; circubit knows all the lyrics to the real slim shady, without me, stan, lose yourself, and a shit ton of other classics. -if the tpc universe had plurality as a known concept, "corruption-genic" would be one of the most researched pages on their pluralpedia. -dub dies a little inside every time someone makes a mitosis joke about his eyes -you could easily lose ajaceare in a hot topic. like next thing you know she's on the top rack of the goth dress-shirts looking down like a fucking bat -circubit has spent an hour in spencer's just browsing, wondering "would i actually look good in this or do i think it just looks good on its own". he has also been to the back just for shits n' giggles. -ajaceare would only go to spencer's for the lava lamps and mystic stuff -iris' favourite lego ninjago character is kai -cube has never seen inanimate insanity, for some fucking reason -cyanide can play river flows in you on piano -cyanide's singing range is mezzo-soprano to soprano; her voice would be similar to vocaloid sonika -pyrare's favourite vocaloids are kaito and yowane haku -cubic recommended that cube should listen to otone peke, saying they were "the best vocaloid fr fr" -pentellow watches ouran highschool host club

[laidee-flegman]

30 cute date-night ideas that won't break the bank

Picnic in the Park: Grab a blanket, some snacks, and enjoy the great outdoors.

DIY Pizza Night: Make your own pizzas with all the toppings you love.

Netflix & Chill (Literally): Build a fort and binge-watch your favourite shows.

Board Game Battle: Dust off those old board games or grab a new one for some friendly competition.

Stargazing: Head to a spot away from city lights and get lost in the stars.

Food Truck Frenzy: Hit up some local food trucks for a mini taste adventure.

Artistic Adventure: Try your hand at painting or pottery together.

Hiking Excursion: Explore nature trails and enjoy each other's company.

Bike Ride: Pedal your way through the neighbourhood or a scenic trail.

Trivia Night: Find a local pub or join an online trivia game for some brainy fun.

Thrift Store Treasure Hunt: Seek out unique finds in a thrift store.

Ice Cream Sundae Bar: Get creative with toppings and make your own sundaes.

Movie Marathon: Pick a theme and binge-watch a series of movies.

Outdoor Movie Night: Set up a makeshift outdoor theatre in your backyard.

Cook-Off Challenge: Have a friendly competition to see who can cook the best dish.

Bookstore Browse: Explore a bookstore together and pick out books for each other.

Karaoke Night: Belt out your favourite tunes at a karaoke joint or in the living room.

Farmers Market Date: Discover fresh produce and unique goodies at a local farmers market.

Mini Golf: Putt your way through a mini-golf course for some light-hearted fun.

Home Spa Night: Pamper yourselves with DIY spa treatments.

Volunteer Together: Give back to the community by volunteering your time.

Fondue Feast: Dip your favourite foods into a gooey pot of melted goodness.

Coffee Shop Chat: Grab a cup of joe and have a cosy conversation.

Beach Day: Enjoy the sun, sand, and each other's company.

Photo Scavenger Hunt: Create a list of items to find and snap pics together.

Binge-Worthy Podcasts: Listen to interesting podcasts while chilling at home.

Outdoor Exercise Class: Join a free outdoor yoga or fitness class.

DIY Sushi Night: Roll your own sushi for a delicious and interactive dinner.

Visit a Free Museum Day: Check out local museums on free admission days.

Fishing Fun: If you're near water, try your luck with a fishing adventure.

[steampunkforever]

I wish this secret social media only used by good people subconsciously referenced when discussing the importance of platforms and social issues and the denial of humanity’s inherent evil and YouTube for children existed. Not for rhetorical reasons but because I want to talk about how botched evil peoples plans were without also providing a how to guide for people who can get the wrong idea.

You should never tell a terrorist he’s mixing his napalm wrong (see officer I’m being good can I have my cookie now) but as someone previously active in a field where the hobby was nitpicking each others execution, it’s hard seeing a job done sloppily.

When the president spreads misinformation by stating that you can’t buy a machine gun, a flamethrower, or a bazooka, it’s easy to refute the machine gun part. In America it’s perfectly legal to buy a machine gun after paying a needlessly expensive tax and doing some pesky paperwork.

If paperwork cramps your style, you can make one (less legally) at home with basic household power tools over the course of a couple days, and most of the time the kind of people that’d do that pose very little threat to society outside of inflating the prices on jet boat superchargers. The bottom line is that most people in the US possessing a machine gun with its serial numbers intact have been vetted and those who purchased it as assorted tubing from Ace Hardware are too busy rebuilding their fan boats to be a credible threat, and so educating the public on how to fill out the federal forms on select-fire rifles is ethically fine.

The flamethrower and bazooka statements are something you need to be careful when discussing because you can buy those much easier than a gun and with no annoying paperwork in America. Any given child can harness the power of her mothers credit card, styrofoam mixed with gasoline, and the ingenuity of a weird young girl and buy herself the means to shoot napalm 20+ feet onto her neighbors roof. This is a good thing but also probably not something you should be advertising when talking about the failures of serial arsonists and how you could do it better.

Discussing these deadlier weapons isn’t something you want spreading to the wrong crowd, as letting a bad person know how to do their job better is not good and letting the government know that it’s citizens own cool things is even worse. Flamethrowers and bazookas fall somewhere in the lines of “the people who already have these aren’t being evil with them so why stir the pot” so you’ve gotta self censor before idle discussion of a bad guys screwup is gonna turn into next weeks news item.

To diary about these things sounds like a good compromise except I have ideas about banks and the FBI has a penchant for getting weird about “idle scuttlebutt” and turning it into “intent.” Unfortunately for them the crime I’m most “intent” on is doubling the speed limit, something out of their jurisdiction as I’m not doing it while crossing state lines. Good thing I can discuss it on my good people only social media site.

Look! User @quanticoenjoyer is chiming in with the suggestion that I try one of those coast-to-coast cannonball runs and drop my plans into the chat. I don’t see why I shouldn’t publicly discuss any of this on a website whose security measures consist of a login page stating “no baddies allowed.”

[villainsview]

Chapter 9

Good Soup

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While Erick was taking a shower to recover from suddenly throwing up, I tossed some baking soda on the pool of vomit in my kitchen, before going to find some clothes that might fit him. I settled on a green shirt that I never wore because I didn’t like the colour on me and a pair of old shorts that I never fit. They might be too big for the kid, but the drawstrings in the front could solve that easily. Besides, it was only for sleeping anyway. I entered the bathroom while the shower was still running, glad to see he’d drawn the curtain.

“I found some clothes,” I said, “putting them on the shelf, underneath a towel you can use when you’re done. How’s your arm looking? Blood clear yet?”

“U-um…I’m not sure…”

“Leave it then,” I said, “I’ll look at it before putting a new bandage on. Come see me in the bedroom when you’re ready.”

“Y-yes sir…”

I closed the door again, pouring myself the last bit of coffee from the pot and waiting for the teen to come out. Even after turning off the shower it took a while before he opened the bathroom door and carefully shuffled outside, holding some toilet paper on his arm as he looked over at me. I put my coffee aside, heading over to grab some supplies from the cabinet behind the mirror, before pulling the teen into the bedroom and sitting him down on the edge of the bed.

“Let me see,” I said, taking his arm and taking the toilet paper off.

It was spotted with clear, red blood, and more was dripping from his arm.

“Looks like the worst gunk is all out,” I said, “let’s put some salve on that and a clean bandage. Then I got some paracetamol against the fever and I’ll pick you up something stronger while I’m out.”

“S-something stronger?”

“Antibiotics,” I said, “you could’ve picked up bacteria when that rat bit you.”

“...don’t you need a doctor to get those?”

“I have my ways,” I said, smearing some ointment on the bite before bandaging it back up, “okay, go lie down now. I’ll get you a bucket and a bottle of water.”

I let him lie down in my bed, tucking him in a bit as he shivered from the fever, before getting him the promised items. Then I let him rest as I texted a contact about antibiotics. While waiting for a reply I figured out Ethel’s rent money, and made a shopping list.

It looked like I’d be out for at least two hours, perhaps more, but I didn’t think Erick could do anything in that state, let alone escape. I checked on him before leaving, but he was dead asleep. I checked his breathing to make sure it wasn’t literal, before leaving a note pasted to his bottle of water, letting him know he was only allowed to leave the room for bathroom emergencies.

I really didn’t think the kid would misbehave. I wasn’t feeling too anxious about leaving him alone at least as I headed outside, lighting a cigarette before knocking Ethel’s door. She was all ready with her shopping trolley, needing a little hand to climb into the van’s passenger seat, before we were on our way.

First stop was the bank. I had to walk her all the way to the counter and wait for her to hand over the wad of cash I gave her to the teller. It wasn’t until after the teller explained to her where to find the confirmation email of her deposit and we could step outside that she let out a sigh of relief.

“Banks make me so anxious. I’m always scared it’ll get robbed while I’m inside,” she said.

“You’ve seen too many cop shows, Ethel,” I said, “come on, let’s go shopping. I’m low on…everything, and my Advil expired so we gotta hit the drugstore while we’re at it.”

“Oh good that you mention it, I need some balm for my joints, I’m almost out.”

“How convenient that we need the same shopping route,” I said with a wink, before helping her back into my van for the next stretch of our trip.

While at the drugstore, I managed to distract Ethel with soaps long enough to sneak off and meet my contact out back, buying some antibiotics and stashing them deep into my pockets before heading back inside and buying some other things, as well as the soap Ethel picked out for me, before we moved on to the local super.

After that it was a straight shot home. I helped her carry her groceries inside, before hauling mine up the stairs. I left the bags in the kitchen before heading towards the bedroom to check on Erick. He was either still sleeping or asleep again. Either way it didn’t seem like he had touched the bottle of water, nor had he needed the bucket.

“Hey,” I said, “come on, wake up.”

Erick groaned a bit as I nudged him, rubbing his eyes before sitting up a bit, seeming slightly startled as he pressed himself against the headboard.

“Relax,” I said, “I got your meds.”

“I-I don’t want—”

“You don’t get a choice in this,” I said, pulling out the antibiotic pills and taking one out, “you’re gonna take four of these a day, you’re gonna drink enough water, eat some damn soup, quit whining until you feel better. Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir…”

“Good,” I said, handing him two pills, “swallow these, get some more rest.”

He let me drop the pills in his hand, but then proceeded to stare at them while I tried to hand him the bottle of water.

“Now what?” I asked, beginning to lose my patience.

“W-why?” Erick asked.

“I told you, you could’ve caught an infection, so you need anti—”

“N-no, I mean…why even bother?” Erick interrupted, “I…why not just kill me? I’m more trouble than I’m worth…”

“You’re worth at least two, maybe three hundred thousand dollars, and that’s just the ten percent cut I’m getting from your ransom,” I said, “sending you home after payment with a possibly lethal disease is just bad form and not how I work, so take the goddamn pills before I shove it down your throat…NOW!”

He jumped a bit as I raised my voice, but then he quickly took the pills and a couple small sips of water to wash them down.

“Good,” I said, “keep that bucket close, side effects include nausea and vomiting. I’ll warm up some soup to keep your salts up— Don’t just stare at me! Lie down, rest!”

I pushed him to lie down after he just blinked at me in confusion. Either he was actually a bit slow, or maybe it was just the fever… I carried my shopping bags into the kitchen, the smell reminding me that I still had a pool of vomit to clean up. Fortunately the baking soda absorbed pretty much all of it, so I just had to sweep it up and mop the rest.

After that I pulled a can of chicken soup from the shopping bags, dumping it in a pan to heat it up. I watched the freeze-dried vegetables and bits of chicken swirl around a bit before lighting a cigarette, mulling over the kid’s words a bit in my mind.

Why did I bother? Because I brought him all the way here I might as well ride it out? Though, in retrospect, besides the unexpected vomiting, he wouldn’t be too much trouble, since Tito was doing all the searching for the kid’s dad, and a sick kid is a weak kid and easy to control…

When it finally warmed up enough to be edible, I poured some soup into a cup and carried it back to the bedroom, putting it on the nightstand before nudging Erick awake again.

“Come on, you need to eat something,” I said, helping him sit up as he groggily rubbed his eyes, “did you manage to sleep some?”

“I…I’m not sure…”

“Looks like you did,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “here, try a sip while it’s nice and warm. It’s easier on the stomach.”

Erick gingerly took the cup of soup, struggling a bit to keep it on the spoon as he was shaking a bit. I watched him try and fail for a moment, before taking the cup back and holding the spoon steady for him.

“W-what—”

“No questions, just eat,” I said, “we can both pretend this never happened afterwards.”

He blinked his eyes, before giving a small nod in agreement and carefully taking a sip. After a couple more sips he regained enough strength to eat on his own, eagerly sipping the rest of his soup.

“Slow down, or you’ll start barfing again,” I reminded him, “give yourself time to recover. You’ll need it.”

“I-is it bad?” Erick asked quietly.

“It’s not your average flu,”  I said, “but you’re not going to die either.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because, believe it or not, I’m actually a doctor,” I said, “granted I lost my licence to practise when I got caught skimming some perfectly good kidneys off of cadavers to sell on the black market, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my touch.”

“...how do you go from helping people to killing them?”

“If you’re talking about the guy I made you bury, I didn’t kill him,” I said, “I just got paid to bring him somewhere, they offed him and they let me…sell some parts.”

Erick seemed to shudder a bit. I tried not to roll my eyes at him, before speaking up again.

“I’m not going to justify my actions with some moral bullshit,” I said, “I do it for the money and the money is good. And most organs that are sold on the black market go to perfectly ordinary people who just happen to be desperate enough. It’s a win-win.”

“...if I die while I’m sick…you can’t use my organs,” Erick quietly said.

“Don’t go getting any ideas now,”  I warned, “I’m not gonna be mopping up your mess, making you soup and whatnot just so I can harvest your organs, no, there’s a lot more money in your ransom than in selling your kidneys. Besides, if I wanted to harvest your organs, I would’ve done that back at the bunker where I had the tools— The anonymity! Not in my own goddamn home. You shouldn’t even be here at all…”

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Just shut up and get some rest. I have some work to do,” I said, taking the empty cup from him and getting up, “I’ll leave the door open, so yell if you need anything.”

“Y-yes, sir…”

He slowly lied back down, already seeming to be asleep before I even left the room. I sat down at the kitchen table, having dug out my laptop and plugging it into the charger before turning it on. I found Tito’s email with details about the job he asked me to do in exchange for information, though he’d written he would also reimburse me for any extra costs such as supplies and a safe location unrelated to me where I could keep the target.

The target…she seemed like a typical teenage girl. A carbon copy of her mother on Facebook, a wannabe influencer on Instagram, she blogged about “superfoods” as if they were still a new thing, but either way she seemed too tame and sane to be an easy target, when lastly I found a link to another social media page where she was holding a bottle of wine at some kind of party, showing off a set of fake ID’s with her friends, and sharing lists of tips on how to hide a partying lifestyle from your parents.

So the girl liked to sneak about without anyone knowing she was gone and to partake in underage drinking? Oh I could work with that. I just had to figure out which god awful clubs she frequented. Some night time stalking couldn’t do much harm. Erick needed his sleep anyway and he was sleeping in my bed, so might as well spend some time gathering information instead of trying to sleep on that shitty couch of mine. I just had to make sure I wouldn’t stay out too long or rouse any suspicion that could cause the target to change her habits…

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[hazel-of-sodor]

Tasha was not the first No.1 on the Tramway. In the first days of the Tidmouth Knapford & Elsbridge Tramway, a makeshift engine was built from a portable steam engine and a wagon chassis to help build the line.

No.1 Glynn was meant to be temporary. The boiler used was already 20 years old when the engine was built, it was loosely mounted, and the rest of the engine was whatever spare parts could be found at the time. The engine was top heavy, and was restricted to 4-5mph to keep it from tipping over. The belt connecting its flywheel to the driving axle didn't fit properly and slipped often due to it being a random spare part rather than purpose made. The engine also proved too tall to pass the first tunnel, as the railways planned tunnel clearence had proven too ambitious and had been reduced.

No.1's expected service time was number in months, maybe years counted on one hand if it was lucky. No.1 was lucky indeed. Built some time between the closing days of 1881 and the dawning days of 1882, No.1 would keep its original form to late 1885, when purpose built coffee pots No.2 and No.3 had entered service. However it didn't leave service to be dismatled or scrapped, instead it went in for rebuild to prepare it for permanent service. The traffic load for the fledgling railway was greater than expected, and managment realized they needed a spare engine in the heavy season, and rebuilding No.1 was their cheapest option, and would raise morale as the crews had become fond of the little iron beast.

As Summer gave way to Autumn and the traffic lessened, No.1 entered the works. The old wagon chassis was dismantled, and modified into proper locomotive chassis, although how much of the new frames were original was highly debatable. The boiler was overhauled and retubed before being reaffixed to the frames. The boiler was not only more secruly mounted, but seated much lower, solving the engines stability issues. The new lower boiler mounting also reduced the engines overall height, allowing it to finally pass through the tunnels to the rest of the tramway beyond. Finally, a new, purpose made drive belt gave the engine the ability to pull with its full strength for the first time.

By all accounts the rebuild was a success, and No.1 banking trains up the mountain grades or shunting in the yards bacame a commom sight on the TK&ER.

No.1 Glynn would serve over 30 years, but by time of the TK&ER's was forced to become part of the new North Western Railway in 1915, the engine was well and truly clapped out. When No.5 was purchased late in that year, No.5 was taken to the newly built Crovan's Gates Works to determine its fate. The results were grim. While the Chassis was reusuable, little else was, with some parts coming apart when in the workmen's hand when they tried to remove them. The works quickly claimed the chassis to use in building their new works shunter, but the question of what to do with the rest of the engine remained. Tnesion already heightened by the TK&ER forced absorbtion by the NWR skyrocketed when rumors spread the engine was to be scrapped. Most local historians and first hand accounts agree that only the fact the country was at war prevented a strike from occuring.

Eager to gain good will with the former TK&ER, the NWR annonced the surviving componets would be combined with a new makeshift chassis and donated to the Tidmouth Musuem for static display and preservation. The new works shunter Tasha shunted Glynn into place in early 1916, in what was by wartime standards a lavish ceromony, and the NWR used the opertunity to pass the No.1 to the new shunter, in recognition that Tasha's chassis orginal belonged to Glynn.

In the present day No.1 Glynn is still one of the musuems prized items, and is well taken care of. Decades of careful restoration work have allowed the engine to be moved once again, and once every blue moon the engine is allowed to steam (albeit at low pressure) for important events, such as the 100th annivery of the Line's construction.

[clownsuu]

I think my ask on the other blog got eaten by tumblr so I'm just re-ask it here. Can we get more lore on Douglas, Jack, Fytó, and Mayor Ignis?

O shid??

*proceeds to break all my bones*

So they are all part of this lil item head world iv created where depending on what kind of head you have will determine your status in their society. Like Jack the poker chip owns a family passed down casino, Douglas has a cash register-ppphhhhone thing-????, Fytó is a pitcher that uses his head as a vase, and Mayor Ignis is a chandelier.

Ignis is, to put it lightly, a horrible father and Mayor. He hasn’t stepped into his office for years besides to do his mandatory speeches and conferences. Instead, he spends majority of his time at the casino livin’ it up and getting absolutely wasted. His son (Phoenix) is heavily disappointed in his father and refuses to associate with him, living with his mother in a different city.

Also not only did Ignis basically abandoned his family and job, he has also given finance and power to the CEO of the country’s most used and morally corrupt banker.

Douglas.

Nobody really knows of Douglas’s origins- the bank has existed far before the birth of Ignis and mysteriously has been seen as the most intimidating and powerful bank out there. He has destroyed countless of businesses and ruined lives of millions for his own profit. He’s a disgusting man. Anyone who even utters anything about having money is said to be cursed by a mail the next day saying they owe millions to the bank even if they only have pennies. Douglas is cruel, and thrives watching people suffer and beg underneath his foot as he laughs maniacally. One of those people being Jack.

Jack is a skilled player in the ages of poker and gambling in general. He knows when to quit, and he knows when to move forward. He’s a really smart man who cherished and loved his family’s casino with all of his heart to a point he is willing to make sacrifices to keep the place afloat. However one year he has been fed up with the threats the bank has been making to their casino and has decided to fight it. Douglas has told them that he could be completely free from the threats and money issues as long as he could defeat Douglas in a single game. At first Jack thought that would be a easy win due to his skills and knowledge, however after losing aggressively to a cheated hand, they were forced to give ownership to Douglas.

In the poorer side of town, there is a little flower shop just barely outside of the bustling streets. Another family owned business of kettles, pitchers and tiny little tea cups. However due to their heads not being wealthy enough and not having enough history, they have no choice but to replace the meaning of their heads from drinks to flower pots. Fytó, the eldest brother of all of his 6 sisters has been keeping the place running with his grandmother after his mother and father went missing after ignoring too many bank statements for years. Fytó has always done his best to take care of his grandmother and little sisters as he does most of the chores and work- it kept him busy from his racing thoughts and fears of being discovered again and taking him away. His remaining family means the world to him and he has no doubt in his mind that his mother and father are either slaving away to make up for the money or were merely killed to be sold. He’s terrified- but his sisters and grandmother as always there to fix him up just when he was about to completely shatter.

Humans, completely forget I spelt Ignis’s name wrong JDHGDGDGD