#Knife Attack Groom Neck

[vocaltv]

रायपुर: बिना कपड़ों के मिली दुल्हन की लाश, एक चाक़ू दो लाश...जानिए बंद कमरे का सस्पेंस

प्यार शब्द सुनते ही होठो पे मुस्कान और चेहरे में हंसी आ ही जाती हैं, जब कोई कपल रिलेसनशिप में आते हैं तो मिलकर अपनी शादी के सपने बुनते हैं और अगर यदि दोनों इंटर कास्ट के हो तो घर वालों को शादी के लिए मनाना थोड़ा मुश्किल हो जाता हैं. और अगर दोनों के कास्ट सेम हो तो शादी में ज्यादा दिक्क्तें नहीं आती, आज की कहानी कुछ ऐसी हैं जो दिल को दहला दर असल बात ही कुछ ऐसी हैं जिसे पढ़ने के बाद आप दशहत में आ…

[rita-rae-siller]

Death Is A Woman

A Short Story by Rita Rae Siller Genre: Urban Fantasy

I let out a long, tired sigh as I shut the door to my apartment behind me. It felt good to be home--no people, no ringing phones, no paper jams to fix, or lines at the printer to wait in. For a moment, I lingered in the doorway with my back leaning against the door, taking in the blissful euphoria of the beginning of the weekend. After a moment more of quiet appreciation of my freedom, I peeled off my drenched raincoat and hung it up on the hook by the door, along with my purse and keys.

"Mishe! I'm home!" I called. I waited a second or two, listening for the soft patter of her paws on the carpet, but my apathetic furry roommate once again reminded me of my own insignificance and declined to make an appearance. With a defeated sigh, I kicked off my shoes and trudged down the hall toward the kitchen to scrounge up some sort of food that could just possibly be justified as dinner.

There were cat toys all over the floor in the kitchen, not at all to my surprise. Mishe's favorite thing to do--aside from sleep, eat, and groom herself--was bat her ping pong balls and feathered mice around on the tile floor. There was nothing for them to get caught under, so she was free to bounce them off of everything in the room for hours. I couldn't even count how many times she had woken me in the night, yowling her strange noises as she played. Hoping she might come out from her hiding spot to finally greet me, I kicked one of them out of my way as I opened the fridge. Still, she ignored me. Nothing stung worse than rejection from your cat. To nurse my wounded pride, I grabbed a can of beer from the top shelf. There wasn't much else in the fridge aside from a carton of eggs with only two left inside, a carton of milk that was most definitely expired, and some sliced cheese and salami.

"Girl Dinner it is," I mumbled to myself. My doctor had warned me that if I didn't curb my copious artisan cheese consumption, I'd have a heart attack one of these days. To compromise, I'd added more cured meats to the mix, and even fresh fruit on occasion. Once I'd retrieved the ingredients for my meager meal, I turned to head into the living room to unwind. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw someone sitting on my couch, stroking Mishe as she purred on their lap. Everything in my hands dropped to the floor, sending a geyser of cold beer shooting to the ceiling as the can burst open.

"Ah, there you are," The intruder said, looking up and smiling at me. "I had a feeling I'd find you here.

"How did you get in here?" I backed into the kitchen and reached for the biggest knife I had in the block, which admittedly was not a very intimidating sight. Even so, I clung to it for dear life in hopes it might just convince this intruder to leave.

"You have a bad habit of leaving your front door unlocked, Sarah Mitchels." Her voice sent shivers down my spine and made the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end. There was an unnatural echo to it, as though multiple people were mimicking her every word in a soft whisper. The longer I looked at her, the more she seemed... wrong. For one, she was deathly pale to the point her skin was almost white. In contrast, her hair was stark black, cascading all around her and trailing down onto the floor. She wore a black two-piece suit with a red blouse underneath and red-bottom heels.

"If it's money you want, I don't really have any." The knife in my hand trembled violently, so much so that I had to hold it with both hands so I didn't drop it.

"You've got it all wrong. Nobody is here to hurt or rob you," The woman smiled at me, and it only made her freakish features worse. No one naturally had cheekbones as sharp as hers were, nor lips so unusually bright red.

"What do you want?" My eyes darted between her and Mishe, lying so contentedly on her lap. She had never been so loving to a stranger before. The sight of the woman's hands only terrified me more. Her nails were long and black, like claws. The skin around her nails was discolored too, almost as black as the nails themselves.

"Well, you see, I'm here on business," The intruder said, running one of her hands down Mishe's back again.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"You are not where you are supposed to be." The woman looked me up and down thoughtfully with her bright green eyes, as though she knew something I didn't. As she blinked, I realized her pupils were not round, but thin slits, like a snake's.

"This is my fucking house!" I took another slow step backward. If I ran fast enough, I could just maybe make it out the door and down the hall before she got her creepy demon hands on me.

"It was, yes. But, Miss Sarah... You're dead," The woman said.

I dropped the knife. "What?"

"I'm not surprised that you don't remember, Most lost souls never do." She pouted her lip out at me in a look of pity. "Do you remember your walk home, Sarah?"

"Yes," I wiped at my face, finding that I'd begun to cry. A crack of thunder suddenly shook the building, sending Mishe scurrying out of the room. The poor thing had always hated storms. "It was raining. Some asshole ran a red light and nearly hit me just a few blocks from here."

"Oh, Darling..." The woman tutted. "He didn't miss. You died on impact. Your body is currently on its way over to the coroner's office as we speak."

"If this is some kind of practical joke, this really isn't funny."

The woman stood up and spread her arms wide, as though inviting me in for a hug. Behind her, a pair of black feathered wings unfurled. Dumbstruck, I collapsed to my knees. It just wasn't possible. Surely, this was all just a really bad dream. Any minute now, I'd wake up on my couch to the TV asking if I was still watching whatever I'd put on.

"I know this is hard for you," The woman knelt before me. She touched my forearm with one of her taloned hands and smiled reassuringly at me. The whole room began to fade to black, but her voice followed me into the darkness. "But believe me; it's better where we're going."

@the-inkwell-variable @gabeorelse

[spgothkidsheadcanons]

Since you did a Michael NSFW alphabet, would it be possible to get on with Pete instead plz? He's my babygirl.

Pete is absolutely baby gorl. We stan Pete in this household.

BUT OF COURSE YOU CAN GET NSFW ALPHABET WITH PETE!!!!!!

Warnings: NSFW behavior, down bad behavior, Pete’s a virgin because i said so lmao

~~~~~

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Chances are, he’s got wet wipes, granola bars and water already waiting for you by the bed. He’s very meticulous, so he plans on making sure that you have everything you need. He’s still gonna help to clean you, but he doesn’t have to leave the comfort of you nor the bed to take care of you

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Pete likes his neck a lot. Especially when you attack him and litter his pale skin with hickies of all sizes

On you, he loves your legs. He likes to rub your thighs when you begin getting in the mood. He also likes your hips, they’re perfect for him to hold onto while he’s fucking you silly

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

He doesn’t like the mess that comes with cumming without a condom on, so he tends to use a condom when you’re being intimate

He does like finishing on your face after a blowjob, though. He thinks you look beautiful with his sperm decorating your features

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Pete’s very loving, and he wouldn’t trade you for anyone else, but he really wants to have a threesome with you and someone else. He just thinks it would be super hot

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

Everything he’s learned, he’s learned from the internet. There’s a very extremely high chance that you’re his first, but he’s never gonna let you know that.

F= Favorite position

He likes anything that has to do with looking at you. Missionary is probably his favorite, but he also loves to just lay back and let you ride him.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He’s serious the first few times, but he quickly relaxes and becomes like a whole different person. He’ll laugh, make small jokes and just enjoy his time with you

H= Hair (grooming habits)

Pete’s completely clean shaven. He doesn’t care if his partner is hairy, but he can’t stand it on himself

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He’s very romantic. He’s new to this whole thing, so he doesn’t know what he likes and he doesn’t know what feels good to you. If you have experience, please take over or help him. If you’re inexperienced, just explore different things with him

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Pete does jack off, just not as much as one may think. 2 or 3 times a week seems to do the trick

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

He really wants to try bondage and degradation. He’s into overstimulation, both giving AND receiving

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Anywhere in the house where you two are comfortable

Won’t even attempt shower sex because he’s worried that one of you will end up in the hospital

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Lingerie is one of his biggest turn ons

Especially something red and lacey

Also when you first wake up in the morning and you’re extra snuggly and don’t want to be away from him. Being depended on just does something for him

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Bodily fluids are an absolute no to Pete, and anything that causes major physical harm, like knife play

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He’s not so good at giving. He’s trying to learn, though, because he feels like he disappoints you when he tries

He loves receiving, it’s probably the fastest way to get him to finish.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

He’s a little slow. Pete’s new to the whole sex thing, so he prefers to go slow to make sure that you both are getting satisfied in one way or another

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

He already feels like he doesn’t do enough to pleasure you, so he doesn’t even entertain the idea of a quickie.

If he’s really got a “problem”, he deals with it on his own

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He’s down to try new things! He’d like to sit with you at some point and talk about what ypu may or may not like. He’ll try pretty much whatever as long as it’s within reason

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

He can go 2 rounds at most. A normal night with Pete will last about an hour total with a little break in between rounds to make sure you both are still okay

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

He doesn’t own any, but doesn’t mind if you do! Pete would like to incorporate them into the bedroom to experiment with you

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He’s not a tease. AT ALL. He loves you and he wants you to feel good. He’d feel awful for teasing you.

Tease him, though. Just do it. He whines

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

SPEAKING OF WHINES:

Pete is very vocal in bed. He’s cussing, praising, whining, moaning. There’s barely ever a moment when he’s completely silent during naughty times

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

He really wants to have a threesome. He doesn’t understand the need, but he really wants to. Pete would never tell you, or anyone for that matter. He’ll probably just fantasize about it and maybe one day bring it up to you

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

6 inches, a little thick, cut

He has a frenum piercing he got after getting shitfaced. He was gonna take it out, but he came to like it too much

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

Pete will have sex maybe twice a week. Although, whenever you’re in the mood, he’ll be in the mood. He’s at your every command

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He already sets everything up before y’all start, so he knocks off pretty quickly. He’ll cuddle with you after you clean up, but he’s out in less than 5 minutes.

[sweettoothvn]

Eddie nsfw alphabet when- HE GOT ME BY THE THROAT-

I'm glad you enjoy him~! NSFW UNDER THE CUT

A = Aftercare 

He's not a big fan of physical touch but when it comes to his S/O he doesn't mind. If you need to cuddle or be held he won't question it and grab hold of you. If you're crying he'll just hold you silently, rubbing circles into your back. Once you're calm he'll ask you a few questions about what you need and what you want to talk about. If you need reassurance or compliments he'll provide

B = Body part

He loves attacking his partner's neck mostly. He's also sensitive around the coccyx (above the butt). The nape of his neck is sensitive too. He would prefer you didn't touch his back due to his scars but if you're gentle he'll allow it. Do not scratch his back he will get so pissed off. Don't even try to tease him with that, its genuinely not a good idea.

C = Cum 

He's not big on handling cum, its a sensory thing for him. If he's giving head, he will spit it out. Not a big fan of the taste.

D = Dirty secret 

Secretly wants to be dominated when his partner is in a pissed off mood.

E = Experience 

He's had sex a few times but he's not too knowledgeable about it. He just knows how to properly communicate with his partner- he definitely knows where the clitoris is dont worry.

F = Favorite position 

"Leap Frog". He's an 'ass' guy so if he can get a good grip that'll make him happy.

G = Goofy 

In general he's not a very goofy person, more on the serious side. However during intimate moments he lets loose and becomes entirely vulnerable. If there are slip ups or mistakes he won't hesitate to laugh it off or share a giggle with you.

H = Hair 

His hair is generally a mess- good luck trying to run your fingers through that. Now down there he's well groomed, however he does have some hair above the crotch and below the belly button.

I = Intimacy 

At the beginning he can pretty awkward as he's not one that's good with romance. He doesn't really know what to do so you're going to need to guide him through that. Later on in the relationship he gets more comfortable and whispers compliments and what he loves about you. He loves playing with your hair too.

J = Jack off

He doesn't like being entirely naked when jacking off (including sex) so he keeps his shirt on. Usually he whispers dirty talk to himself, trying to get in the moment. If you catch him masturbating don't mention the dirty talk unless you want him horribly embarrassed and avoiding you for hours.

K = Kink 

He likes degrading his partner and he's also a bit of a masochist. He's not big into biting but if you want him to do that he will. He's more into causing bruises and a bit of knife play. He also likes choking his partner if they're into that. He's into a bit of exhibitionism too. Ah, let's not forget some good old orgasm denial and over stim.

L = Location 

Bedroom is preferable for him. But he wouldn't mind doing it in the living room if you guys are watching a movie... just be prepared for him to quote the movie if it's Indiana Jones that you're watching.

M = Motivation 

Typically if you tease him or slightly piss him off that will get him going. If you blow on the back of his neck that might get him flustered too. He will not admit that he likes it when you pull his hair.

N = No 

Don't scratch his back, don't bite him, no degradation on him, do not try to be sadistic towards him he will hurt you back, no scat, no watersports, no vomit, general stuff like that, food play is a no, no ageplay, no master/servant

O = Oral 

He would prefer to receive oral than give it but he doesn't mind that much when giving it.

P = Pace 

He's definitely someone who goes fast and rough, he will not slow down and let you catch your breath until he's finished. Or until you've said the safe word obviously.

Q = Quickie 

He loves quickies, usually if it's him having you against a wall or you giving him head.

R = Risk 

He loves taking risks and experimenting so don't be afraid to ask him to try something out, so long as it's not him being hurt or any of his "No's". If you really want to do something that he doesn't want to, he wouldn't mind if you sought out a sexual partner to fulfill that fantasy. He would like to meet that person though and make sure you're with someone nice at least.

S = Stamina 

He has a pretty good stamina. Blame the rock climbing you guess. But he can last a good 6 rounds before becoming absolutely exhausted. Keep the pelvic floor strong yknow?

T = Toys 

The only toys he might own would be flesh lights or those vibrators you wear in public.

U = Unfair 

He's a big tease. If you're trying to work or do something but he's in the mood, he'll come up from behind and whisper what he wants to do to you. Then walk away and return to his normal routine like nothing happened.

V = Volume 

He tries to keep quiet as best he can, a few grunts or groans might leave him but nothing loud. Now if you're giving him head he'll be whimpering and moaning from that.

W = Wild card 

Definitely has fantasies/wet dreams of him and/or his partner getting fucked by tentacles or monsters.

X = X-ray 

Burn scars across his back, few moles across his whole body and additional scars from his recklessness

Y = Yearning 

Pretty average really. If his partner is really horny he wouldn't mind having sex every day though.

Z = Zzz 

Generally he struggles to fall asleep but after sex he's out like a light. Really helps with the semi-insomnia-

[goddang-ken]

| Self indulgent nsfw Ennead headcannons|

**Hello, I have a translated ennead headcannons and Q&A’s from the extras book if you want to check it out**

Words: almost 2k

Warnings: | Mentions of breeding and frottage | there no gender terms so everything’s up to you| could be incest if you want it to |adfshsh can you tell I’m on my period?😭 | I wrote this with my pussy and not my mind

-Has more length than girth, not necessary a cervix destroyer but if you’re in the right position he can give it little kisses, a little bit longer than the average size with subtle veins, curves a little upwards, the head is his most sensitive spot, if your going down on him pay close attention to his slit and don’t forget to tease his glans!!! And when he cums tug on balls a little

-he’s more of a grower than a show-er

-if you really want him to have a powerful orgasm you can massage his prostate through the perineum or if you’re willing to wake the sleeping bear you can slip a finger inside him and watch him truly come undone, I’m taking about knees pulled to his chest,full body quakes, fists turned white from how hard he’s gripping you and the bed covering/blanket is ripped because his claws came out and the most embarrassing noises being pulled from deep within his godly being 

-be careful of doing that tho cuz once he recovers he’s kicking you out for embarrassing him like that, might even attack you

-Pretty tame when it comes to pubic hair, well groomed, a little shade lighter than the red on his head

-cums is a little on the watery side but it flys pretty far when he cums afsdsfh , might even cut his moans short cuz he has to turn his head to keep it from going into his mouth

-A bratty power bottom you just gotta work for it cuz he’s stubborn and cocky and refuses to be topped, most of y’all’s foreplay is fight which probably leads to y’all fucking in shredded clothes in the rubble of what was once a temple

-as stated before his claws come out when he gets lost in the pleasure

-He’s a biter, when he cums he’s gonna latch into the closest piece of skin and try to muffle his moans and if he can’t latch all you can hear is is loud desperate moans echoing out through the halls and drool escaping from the side of his mouth, he also unknowingly keeps all eye contact with you when he cums, if you move your head left he’s moving his head left too

-his wide red eyes brimming with tears and smudged makeup after he cums showcasing all his love for you on his sleeve and insecurity he’s desperately tried hiding from you only to lay it all out in that very moment .You’re luck cuz hardly anyone gets to see him this weak so treasure it, don’t say anything yet just let him bask in the aftershocks of his mind numbing orgasm and hold him tight

-If your in missionary and his mind is far gone from the orgasm he’s experiencing you can hear him chanting “I love you” through gritted teeth near your ear

-doesn’t particularly have sensitive nipples so if you try to play/suck on them he might shoo you away from that area

-his ears and neck are his weak area!!!

-he also keeps mini thrusting when he cums, with little fully body twitch here and there

-doesn’t like to take his dick out right after y’all are done, let him stay connected to you for a bit

-is a big softy on the inside, we all know he’s scared of being forgotten so murmur sweet nothings and praise into his ear during sex

-if you’re having sex leaning on the rougher side every once in a while ask him if everything is okay and if he wants to stop (cuz we all know about his ptsd)

-acts of service and domestic life turn him on, you could be literally sweeping the floor and he’s like “damn I wanna fuck you”, he doesn’t voice it tho, just sits there with his legs tightly crossed

-I don’t think he likes body hair(as he said before it’s something savages have), so another way to bond or give an act of service boner is…shaving (hear me out), the act of holding a knife near one’s genitalia is a huge act if trust, not to mention the tension that’s in the air and the obvious touching and soft groping to his privates to make sure he’s clean shaven is bound to make him hard

-another act of service boner is redoing his make up (cuz all he does his trace over it again each day) or brushing his long  luscious hair or even making him a new weapon to use

-he’s probably into mutual masturbation but he tends to cum a bit early from embarrassment cuz you’re watching him 

-GIVE HIM AFTERCARE GODDAMIT, clean him up if he’s messy, run your fingers through his hair, rub his back etc, anything will do please

-is super clingy when your done, mostly follows you around everywhere cuz he’s still in that vulnerable mindset, don’t say anything about it or he’ll get defensive and angry and he’ll hold a grudge for while

-apologize to him by using skinship, like back hugging him and kissing his neck (his most sensitive spot) and shoulders while he’s being all pissy and he might let you join his bed

-also likes to be taken in multiple positions and in different locations

-frottage is like his number 1 kink, it’s the desperation for each other that drives him crazy , doesn’t matter if it’s through clothes or skin to skin he likes it all

-sex in front of his temple with the desert in view is also one of his favorite place’s to have intercourse

-Doggy style or cowgirl is his favorite positions too

-it doesn’t matter what positions y’all fuck in but when it’s time to cum he wants to be on his back

-even tho hes sterile, let him say he’s going to get you pregnant/beg him to get you pregnant or tell him to cum inside and he’ll go crazy, downside is he’ll be upset and quiet when you’re finished and might cry afterwards so be careful when saying that demand.

-thick just like his daddy, nice rounded head head, perfectly plump balls, if you grab massage them while he’s thrusting he’ll hitch his breath, he’s unfamiliar with the feeling but doesn’t tell you to stop 

-I feel like he’s both a grower and a shower, there’s just a little change to his dick when he’s hard

-kinda wild in the pubic hair area, never really felt the need to do anything with it, might get a little self conscious and trim it a little when you’re not around, and when you do come back he drops his shendyt unproved and ask if you like it

-short powerful thrusts,rhythm is a little off since he’s new to this, may ask here and there if he’s doing okay,

-we all saw Seth grab his boobie adfagsh his breast were breasting boobly, doesn’t really feel that much stimulation in his nipples but will let you pinch,grope and suck on them if you want

-doesn’t really have any kinks, sex wasn’t on his mind growing up so he’s completely brainless when it comes to pleasures of the flesh but is willing to try anything with you to find out what might interest him

-let him practice!!! Introduce mutual masturbation first before taking on anything else, let him touch you or let him watch as you pleasure yourself so he knows what to do when y’all actually have sex

-v much into cock milking and ruined orgasms, yes ma’am, nothing gets his blood hot than being coated with his cum and getting his life essence pulled from his dick till he’s thrashing and shooting out blanks

-And after watching he might gain the courage to ask if he can practice his thrusts, he won’t actually be inside you tho, he’ll have his dick placed in-between your lower abdomen (getting on irl view of what would be if he was inside you) and his hand and he’ll go on from there

-if he’s not practicing on your abdomen then he’s going to practice on your thighs when you’re laying together in bed

- He a hugger, likes to be chest to chest and puts his body weight on you

-Hold his hand!!! Interlock your fingers together and he’ll kiss them

-or while you’re holding hands he’ll slip one or two of your fingers into his mouth and suckle,

-also if you’re not paying attention to him he’ll grab your hand and suck on your fingers slowly getting each one wet while maintaining eye contact (he knows what he wants but doesn’t know how to voice it poor bby)

-hug him back and tell him that you love him, him that he will forever and always be your number one, you’re Sun and moon and that you’re never letting him go + some hair tugging and he’ll cum on the spot

-cum is thick like glue, cums a lot too, doesn’t really shoot far just kinds slides down his shaft and drips down off his balls

-Ngl he’d probably be into eating his cum outta you, or at least watching it ooze out

-cuckhold fetish too (sometimes), likes to be the one to fuck the other persons cum out, there’s something about seeing your hole be filled to the brim that drives his insane

-vocal based off of the extra comic, deep moans that from his gut that turn into light airy “ha’s” very expressive too, tosses his head back most of the times when he cums, mouth is usually kept open in a silent scream, keeps gulping air, still breathes hard after you’re done, keeps his hips in place and pressed fully against you, if you try to move he’ll have a fully body twitch and whisper a little breathy “wait” and pressed your hips back down on the bed

-even after he cums he’ll pull his hips back a little to let his dick slide out but he’s not getting off you just yet

-clingy when you’re done ,he cages you in his arms and refuses to let go,nuzzles you head every once in a while and hums, breathing in the scent of you

-never actually tells you that he wants to have sex he just hopes that you notice his desperation, will literally stand there with a erection till you wake up and smell the pheromones and if you don’t or it’s taking too long he’ll press himself against you and hope that you take a hint

-pubic hair doesn’t really bother him, mostly ask you how you want him to have it

-we all know he has the cervix suplexer, cervix scraper gynecologist hate him. IUD’s want to be him,soda can horse cock

-is a shower all the way, there isn’t much difference from him being flaccid or hard either way it’s hanging down to his knees, takes hella pride in it

- “go on. You can touch it, it’s yours ” afagshdj it’s hot to the touch and you can feel his heartbeat through it

-big balls too *hides face*, he may not show it but fondling or sucking on a nut makes him weak in the knees

-thick with  prominent veins, angry!angry!dark green colored head,curves a little to the side with a pretty bulbous head, the hardest part probably is getting the head to fit, very leaky with the precum

-obsessive and possessive is his middle name

-a service dom, could even dry cum from watching you cry the waves pleasure he’s inflicting

- Definitely has a huge crying/begging kink

-you’re giving him a blowjob? Oop He’s pinching your nose shut and throat fucking you for the hell of it, the pain of your nails scratching his thighs excites him more than he expected

-Refuses to stop till you’re shaking and covered in cum and sweat and on the verge of passing out but that doesn’t stop him

-grunts more than he moans, likes to hear you more than himself

-breeding kink ,breeding kink,breeding kink

-corruption kink while we’re at it too, loves to make you question your faith with the whole “if it’s bad why does it feel good?”

-will probably hold your body up with his vines and fuck you in the air, just carries you around and uses you like a human fleshlight

-or…if he’s feeling a little annoyed with you, he holding you in the air with his vines and has them fuck you instead

-imma say it…when it comes to self pleasure he has a sounding fetish

-He can and will guilt trip you into sex at anytime and anyplace

-won’t let you leave till you’re overflowing with his seed and you can’t walk straight

-talkative, mostly praises or talks about what he’s going to do to your body or how well you’re taking him

-makes you repeat the dirty things he’s whispering into your ear out loud cuz he knows your embarrassed

-doesn’t necessarily like you being on top but he’ll allow it if he’s in a mood to watch you struggle

-if you’re on top and taking too long to move he’ll slap your thigh to get you moving or he’ll give a little thrust to jostle you around a bit

-his cum is also on the semi watery side but he cums a lot so it’s okay, I also don’t think it shoots far? Kinda just flows down his dick and coats his balls

-if you trying to squirm away cuz you’re too sensitive hes just gonna drag you back to him or he’ll follow your body while still connected to you

-it may seem like he’s asking you for permission to cum inside but that’s a lie,he’s actually telling you that he’s gonna cum inside whether you like it or not, actually riles him up and makes his blood hot when you beg him not to

-responds to all your squeals and moans with a hum or “yea?”

-uses you as a fleshlight when he’s feeling jealous as a punishment

-that one headlock position is a position he likes to use if you keep moving away from him, mating press is also one of his favorites

-he may or may not leave his dick inside after he cums, depends on his mood

-exhibitionist, lives off the thrill of almost getting caught, teases you if you start getting all panicky which makes him slow down and draw out his thrusts

-he’s a hit it and leave kind of guy mostly because he doesn’t want isis to find out, but if you beg him a lil he might stay for a few minutes

[popcorn1989]

Funny thing, in my head, gotta write it down.

If the witcher boys were dogs 🐩

10 things about thier new character

Geralt:

Geralt would be a Husky

Wild but protective instinct

Loves sheep things and you have to be careful that he doesn't steal your knives

once he has a knife, he runs around the apartment with it in his mouth

when he meets other dogs, the hair on his neck stands up and he doesn't move.

when the other dog wants to play, he immediately sees it as an attack

In the evening he is quiet and prefers his owner's bed

loves cuddles

hates bathing or having his fur combed

loves it when he's called "A Good Boy"

Rience:

Rience would be a Tamaskan

Wild wild wild, his instinct to protect others is zero.

loves to put other dogs in their place

You always have to put a muzzle on him, so he doesn't kill other dogs

He doesn't eat his food, because he prefers to eat what's on your plate.

He hates cuddling and petting

Open fire is taboo since you have him at home. He's always trying to stick his nose in the fire.

Your partner can no longer approach you. The dog always growls dangerously.

He likes grooming, but only by himself.

You can find him at night, in his basket, on his back and with his paws outstretched.

Cahir:

Cahir would be a Doberman

protective instinct high, sometimes too high

doesn't bother with other dogs at all and stays with his master

if another dog comes too close to its owner, it is immediately shown that it can walk again.

loves to get the full attention

His gait is proud and he holds his snout high

Eats only good and expensive things, as befits a king

loves fur care, he doesn't want to run around like a street dog

lies close to its masters so that he can protect thier at night

Complains loudly when visitors come, but they have not announced themselves

Eskel:

Eskel would be a bullmastiff

he is strong and unstoppable

because going for a walk is torture, he stays in the garden.

Your dog has so many scars just from chasing cats and getting stuck on the fence

He eats everything he finds in the garden. really everything

barks at passing dogs.

barks at passing children

barks at people passing by

he sleeps in the garden because he constantly feels in the dirt

He hates petting and other human touches.

Jaskier:

he needs a lot of attention

Jaskier would be a border collie

He is very capable of learning, things he has done wrong he will never do again.

he must not be with female dogs, otherwise there will be offspring.

He pulls his tail when a tominate dog approaches him

he loves to cuddle and never gets enough of it

he tries to talk to his master, which sounds more like singing

he hates it when he gets dirty

he loves swimming and jumps into every pond

He loves to play and really chases every stick

Lambert:

Lambert would be a Bergamasque Shepherd Dog

He cannot be alone, he must always have other dogs around

He loves to play with every living being

Not only does he protect other dogs, he protects his food and toys as well

Likes to lie in front of the fire and chew his bone

Happy about every kind word from its owners

Grooming is unnecessary for him

hates bathing because, his fur gets too heavy

He is an open-minded dog and likes to laugh, which is shown by a loud panting.

likes to lay its head on its owner's lap at night

Vilgefortz:

Vilgefortz would be a Bull terrier

friendly to other dogs, but should not have their backs turned

friendly to his masters, but they should not turn their backs on him

just leave him alone, while he eats

just leave him alone, while playing

just leave him alone while he sleeps

He likes to be bathed, but don't touch his face

when it's cold outside, don't forget to put on a jacket

He doesn't chew bones, he prefers fresh meat

his basket must have lots of pillows.

To end briefly: These are just my thoughts, don't hate me, if I misjudge your loved ones.

Love you 😘🌹

[scribblertown]

Fates of the Fateless Ch 2: First Impressions Matter

You know most people don’t appreciate uninvited guests

ao3

wattpad

By some miracle you must’ve dozed off with the help of the wagon’s consistent rocking, awoken by laughter and banter. Light now peeked through the wagon’s flaps pushed apart slightly to gain access to the supplies in the back. No one seemed to be unloading at the moment but had certainly been at work recently. Thankfully without taking anything to expose your little hiding spot. Turning back to the coach you glanced out at a small gathering of tents. People, men and women chatting with cups of what you assumed was coffee by the smell the breeze brought your way.

 All of them were dressed like those back in town and armed to the teeth. Practically every man that came into view had a holster with 1 or 2 guns accompanied by a big hunting knife perfect for gutting stow aways. And here you were with just a damned dull letter opener that, if you were lucky, might even cut butter. You took small comfort in the fact there were other women here, seemingly happy and untouched as they chatted smiling and well dressed.

 “Gather round everyone! Gather round!” a booming baritone voice startling you enough to cause the letter opener to slip from your grip. You desperately attempted to snatch it back but it was in vain as it clattered loudly like thunder in your ears onto the wooden wagon surface below you. Your hand slaps it into stillness as you rigidly froze in fear. “Good morning! We’ve had quite the eventful night. Some more so than others it would seem.” The man thankfully continued his little spiel completely ignorant of your own personal heart attack happening only 10 feet away.

 Another man’s voice replied, this one a distinctly Irish accent “Oi! Ya lot shoulda seen dem bastards, black n blue before dey even hit de ground!” he received a round of chuckles.

 “I am proud of you boys”, you dared another peek after finally letting out your held breath. A well-groomed dark-haired man with a matching mustache dressed in a fancy vest stood proudly as the center of attention. “Seems no matter where we go, O’Driscolls are sure to follow. Now-” he claps his hands together, “we have a ways to go before we can set up a proper camp. So go about your morning routines quickly and pack up!” At that he left center stage, approaching a young woman who smiled brightly at him in turn.

  Watching everyone socialize and laugh with one another as they slowly made their way to their respective tents made them seem so… normal. It began to bring on such an alienating feeling about your place in what is anything but a normal situation.

 “Gasp!” a small and delicate inhale of surprise sounded behind you. You nearly snap your neck turning towards the source. Wide eyed and frozen in place stood a young black girl, seemingly barely out of her tweens, holding a bucket she likely was returning to the wagon, gaping at you with absolute terror. A moment of stillness passed between you two, merely taking in the sight of each other before she made the first move.

 “MISS GRIMSHAW! MISS GRIMSHAW!” she bolted out of sight in a second, shrieking like a banshee. “MISS GRIMSHAAAAWW!”

 “Tilly!? Tilly, What’s wrong girly?!”

 “Tilly? Are you alright?”

 “What’s going on?”

 A plethora of voices began to arise out of the once calm atmosphere.

 “TH-THERE’S SOMEONE IN THE WAGON! THERE’S SOMEONE IN THERE!”  the poor girl spoke in shuddered breaths broken and harsh. The second she uttered those words, the voices immediately dissipated to leave only your own ragged breaths and roar of blood in your ears.

Now envisioning being turned into swiss cheese by an artillery just outside of the preciously thin barrier of cotton canvas that separated you from them. Simply staring out at the spot the young girl once occupied awaiting another body to fill the emptiness. Unsure of how long this tender moment of anticipation lasted before you felt something cold and hard press to the back of your skull bringing your breathing to a halt.

 “Now…” a man’s voice, deep and rich and laced with no fear what so ever spoke in a low, calm tone. “How’s about you kindly step outside for a moment.” His bassy octaves vibrated in your ears. “Slowly…” a hot breath brushed your ear along with the soft click of his gun.

 You dropped everything in your now limp grasp, shakily lifting your hands up above your head before slowly lifting yourself on numb legs prickled by pins and needles. Turning at a snail’s pace toward the opening of the coach where your teary gaze met the calm and intense dark ones of the mustache man.

 “Thaaat’s right. Niiiice and slooow.”

 The barrel of death followed your every pain staking slow movement as your feet finally met the damp morning grass. In your peripheral you could make out the entirety of camp menacingly standing stock still aiming weapons of their own. Hot tears were cascading down your cheeks, the tightness in your throat suppressing your sobs almost too much to bear standing at the mercy of strangers. Dangerous strangers.

 The mustache man held your gaze for another minute before it scoured the rest of you briefly. Body language ever calm and confident before the eyes like the dark barrels of guns found yours again. And to your surprise he smiled.

 “Well, you look to be about as dangerous as a field mouse.” He chuckled, “But looks can be deceiving…” he seemed to ponder for a moment before holstering his gun, however everyone else held their positions. “What were you doing hitching a ride with our humble little-“ a second of a pause, adjusting his stance and folding his hands comfortably in front of him, “caravan?” he sighed out the last word.

 “I-I’m sorry.” You managed a squeaky reply before letting out an exasperated breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “I-I just got r-real scared and-“ a soft broken sob, “I-I didn’t mean any harm- I just-I’m so sorry!” you somehow managed more tears despite how dehydrated and exhausted you were from crying so damn much.

 “Oh, Dutch she’s harmless!” a young woman’s voice rang from your left, filled with concern and pity. “Just look at her! Ain’t even dressed properly.” You dared a peek at your one ally in the bunch, while blurry from the tears you made out the same woman you had seen before. The one this Dutch had approached after his little announcement. Tall and fair skinned, Strawberry blonde curls pinned elegantly to her head. Her pale almost nonexistent eyebrows twisted with concern and big kind brown eyes looking on with sympathy.

 “Annabelle, you know we have to be careful, regardless of how pathetic she may look.” That remark would’ve stung had you not known how crazy you probably looked. Shirt untucked and too big on you, the collar draped past your collar bone, skirt long and awkward and no shoes to protect your raw, dirty feet. Hair a rat’s nest going every which way. “we ain’t even sure she isn’t armed.”

 “Well, she had this,” another voice spoke up, a man’s, coming from behind you. A soft thud sounded from the softened ground just to your right, looking down you spotted the letter opener almost completely engulfed by the pale yellowed feathery strands of desert grass. “But I wouldn’t call it much of a weapon.” His voice was familiar, uncaring and deep. A hulking mass of muscle trotted slowly into your sight. He somehow got to the wagon without you noticing. “Newspaper and some cash.�� The man spared you a glance before drifting back to Dutch, handing him what little you had. “That’s it.” He was broad, especially in the shoulders. The same ones you’d been shadowed by in the wagon. His hair was a soft looking dirty blonde parted to the right, and just long enough to lightly brush past the tips of his ears. His gaze was intense but seemingly, to your relief, uninterested in you.

 “See! She’s harmless!” Annabelle spoke in a ‘I told you so’ tone as she began to walk towards you. Dutch seemed to make a start of an attempt at stopping her, mouth ajar and arm stretched slightly before he waved his hand off turning back to his giant of a friend. Her soft hands gently tugging yours from there elevated position. The soft fabric of a handkerchief found its way to your cheeks, dabbing away any salty tears that remained. “Shhshhshh now…” she spoke in a tone like that a mother would her weeping child, “You got someplace you call home? Any family?”

 “No, I don’t-they’re not-“ alive? Born yet? Have yet to even exist? “They’re gone…” Annabelle cradled your broken self in her arms coaxing you into the crook of her neck, her small fingers rubbing your back as you took a moment to practically collapse into her warm embrace. “Everything… everyone… all gone.”

[howlingday]

jaune D&D au) dwarf nora, goblin neo, and halfling ruby get into an argument over who's the hottest short stack. poor paladin jaune is caught in the cross fire and made to decide. dang it! he specifically asked his goddess (pyrhha goddess of victory and just war) NOT to give him a harem

You Must Be This Tall To Answer

"My Lady, Pyrrha Victoria, I beseech thee!"

Jaune cried out to the heavens. The clouds parted at time stilled, a golden light shining through, blocked only by the heavenly visage of a maiden in battle armor. Her armor and shield were a shining bronze with only a few scuffs marring them. Her hair was a blazing red, alive like fire as it glowed beckoningly upon her champion. Her eyes were a glistening emerald green, with promise of victory growing with every moment they gazed upon him.

She parted her lips and spoke in a heavenly voice. Any lesser man unworthy of her would falter at the words she spoke next.

"Sup, Jaune?"

"I need your help, Pyrrha." Jaune fell to his knees. "I don't know what to do."

"Oh, and what might this be in reference to?"

"Didn't you see it? I thought you were omniscient."

"I was in the bath."

"That doesn't explain-"

"Jaune," the Paladin straightened, "what's the problem?"

Jaune took a deep breath before explaining. "We were on our way to stop the Crimson Bull from attacking a human settlement nearby, but all of a sudden, the girls started fighting one night!"

"Any reason why?"

"I don't know!" Jaune answered, arms extended above his head. "I went to bed one night, and the next morning, they're stand-offish with each other, and now they're asking me about who's better of them.

"Better as in how?"

"Something about being a shortstack?"

"I can't imagine."

Last night, Jaune had slipped into his tent for bed. Shortly after, Ruby tip-toed to his tent, taking advantage of her light halfling steps. Her red cape billowed in the soft night breeze.

She was caught off-guard, however, as Neo yanked her by her hair and tossed her away, a common tactic in goblin mating battles. Her scarred throat seemed to glow in the firelight.

Neo approached with her knife, but was tossed away from the tent with ease by Nora's dwarven strength. She chuckled as she stroked her beard, sneering at the goblin.

It was at this point that the three noticed each other's attire. Ruby was in a nightgown with beautiful rose-embroidery along the hem. Neo was more risque with a revealing blouse and skirt reserved for brothels. Nora decided to the hells with subtlety and stood naked and proud in front of the tent.

"Now, where the fuck do you think you two are going?"

Neo silently growled at the dwarf.

Ruby stood up and pointed. "I'm going to check on Jaune! He's been having nightmares, so I'm going to see if I can help!"

"Ha!" Nora waved a hand in front of her. "I don't remember our fearless leader mentioning a thing about nightmares once. Don't forget, I've been in the party longer than the both of you!"

"Yeah, well, I knew him a lot longer than you!" Ruby defended. "I just needed to help my sister."

"More like you needed your sister's help!" Nora guffawed at the red halfling. She then shot a fist to her left, forcing Neo to jump away. "And don't think you can slip past me with your shadow step, soft-bumps!" Neo glares at the girl. "You may not have been in the party long, but that doesn't mean I don't know who you are. Now, both of you kindly," Nora scooped up some dirt and rubbed it into her palms before spitting into them as well. She slapped her chest and bellowed, "Back the fuck off!"

"I just don't know what to do, Pyrrha." Jaune looked to the sky above as he laid back.

"Well, it's as I always say, Jaune," her champion joined her as she reminded him, "a party needs a strong pillar in fertile ground to rise to bliss."

"I know, I know, but what does that even mean?!" Jaune sat up. "I'm not a carpenter, or a farmer, or a philosopher! What am I supposed to do?"

Pyrrha shrugged. "I'm sorry, Jaune, but I must go. The others are calling me."

"What others?!" Jaune jumped up to the fading goddess, "You always pull this crap! You give some fake wisdom and bail on me!"

"May you forever walk in fall's grace."

"Get back here and help me!" Jaune threw up a gesture. "Fuck you, you red-haired bitch!"

"Well, isn't that a prayer if ever I heard one?" Jaune spun in place, meeting the grinning dwarf, the silently snickering goblin, and the blushing halfling. Nora groomed her beard with a smile. "Maybe I should be a champion, too? Sounds like a fun goddess to serve."

"She really isn't." Jaune sighed. "So, are we ready to go?"

"Just as soon as you answer our question." Jaune groaned. "What? You think getting alone time with your goddess gets you a free pass?" Neo and Ruby shook their heads. "In case you forgot, I'll ask again. Of the three of us, who is the best shortstack?"

"I mean, can't I say all of you?"

"Oh, sure you can!" Jaune relaxed at this. "Just like you can say we're all the strongest, the fastest, and the leader of this party!" Jaune's relaxation quickly shifted to exhaustion. "C'mon! You can't expect a halfling to be cuter than me!"

"I mean, why not?" Ruby perked up at his answer. "She's fast, and light. She reminds me of a bunny rabbit. Or maybe a mouse, since she squeaks like one when she's nervous." Ruby did just that as she hid behind her cape, blushing.

"Okay, she's cute," Nora admitted, "but she cannot be sexy. Nobody wants a mouse in their sheets, and especially not a toad." She shot a glare at Neo, who silently snarled at Nora.

"Actually," the spotlight was on Jaune once more, "I kind of think Neo is sexy. I don't mind her bumps, and the way she slips into tight spaces is pretty hot." Neo smiled, then stuck her tongue out at Nora.

"Well, she may not be hard on the eyes for you, but she can't compare to the raw sexual energy a full-figured woman like myself!" Nora posed erotically. "Wouldn't you agree, oh fearless leader?"

"But you aren't sexy, Nora." Ruby and Neo covered their mouths to hold their laughs. Nora cracked her neck and her knuckles as she approached Jaune, who stammered. "W-What I mean, uh, is that you're not sexy, but, uh, beautiful!" Jaune covered his face. When no beatings came, he uncovered his face and saw the Blushing dwarf make a gesture to continue. "Well, uh, you always have something to say, and I really admire that confidence. I mean, you're the first in every fight, the last one standing, and you know what to say to lift my spirits up when I'm down. I mean, in my mind, you're what I always imagined my wife would be like, Nora."

Nora pushed past him, holding her sack close over her shoulder. "We wasted enough time. Let's go." As she pushed forward, the party behind her, she did her best to hide the blush in her beard.

Ruby ran up to Jaune's side. She fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke. "Um, you don't think I'm sexy?"

"I mean, in your own way, but-" Jaune was caught in a trap. There was no way for him to get out.

"So, you wouldn't want a mouse in your sheets?" Ruby asked. Taking the line offered, he climbed out of the web, chuckling as he answered.

"I'm not exactly against it."

[writer-panda]

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

Chapter 1  -|-  Previous -|- Next

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

-----------

As she hanged up, Marinette rushed to the doors and let her mother in. The previous night she spent mostly on working with Kwamis to prepare. Most were in agreement that she needed to act and not leave her kitty’s fate to chance. Tikki protested for a bit, but in the end, she saw that there was no changing Marinette’s mind and joined in on scheming. Except she had no way of tracking Adrien. Not… until she received the call!

Except now her mother entered. Sabine greeted her daughter by giving her a bone-crushing hug. 

“I was so worried! When the police called I couldn’t just sit there and wait!”

“Maman. It’s alright. I’m okay. See?” The girl did break away from the hug and smiled.

“I know. But I couldn’t help but worry.”

“Maman… Adrien’s been kidnapped.”

“I know.” Her mother’s expression didn’t reveal any emotions now.

“I… he’s been miserable ever since that wedding mess, and now this.”

“I know.” Again, nothing. 

“He’s my friend.”

“Not the love of your life?” Sabine questioned with a bit of amusement in her voice.

“No. He doesn’t need another fangirl. He needs a friend. Someone who can support him. I… I wasn’t a good friend before this…” She didn’t reveal that she wasn’t a great partner either. Chat hid things well, but from time to time his shell cracked. She should’ve seen the signs. She could’ve done something. Or at least do something with Lila. She had connections and Lila deserved a lawsuit or five. 

“Oh, sweety. You were a great friend. You are a great friend. I’m happy to see you’re not about to chase after some misguided love, but after friendship.”

“I know I’m only… wait, what?” Marinette.exe stopped working. If the problem keeps repeating itself, please contact customer service or the nearest Kwami. 

“When I was fifteen, I dropped out of… school to explore the world on my own. It wasn’t until a few years later that I met your father.” Sabine said in a bit dreamy voice like she was reminiscing. “We had several adventures across Europe before finally settling down in Paris.”

“But… Papa’s a baker.” Marinette protested. “I thought he was always a baker, like his father.”

In response, her mother chuckled. “No. Your father had much more in common with your Nona than with his father. I met him when he was fighting in an underground cage-fighting club.”

“Whoa…” Marinette’s eyes widened. That was a story she never heard before. “So how did you two got together?”

“I will tell you some other time. The point is, I know that even if I took you to Paris with me, you would’ve run away to look for your friend.”

“Maman!” For a moment, the girl wanted to protest. But then she decided that there was no point. “Yes… you’re right. But I can’t just let it happen! If the police find him, he will end up back with his father!”

“I know. And what’ll you do about it?” Her mother had this mysterious smirk on her face.

“I guess… I need to be the one to find him. I will get him situated somewhere safe. Maybe stay with him for a bit. He’s smart. And a quick learner.” He mastered being a superhero faster than I did.

“Good. Then you have my blessing.” 

“I can’t just abandon-” Marinette.exe stopped working again. Contacting the customer service might be in order. Technically, Sabine kept hinting about it. Practically, Marinette would miss a clue even if she was holding a gun to its head. “I have your what now?”

“You can go. Save him. Find yourself. And maybe kick some asses while you’re at it.”

“Most parents would be worried sick about their not-yet-adult children running off to an adventure.”

“You wanted to know how I met your father. The answer is I was the first to beat him in that cage.” Sabine’s smirk was replaced with a serious expression. “Of course I will worry, sweety. I’m your mother. But holding you back now will not help you. You’re a strong young woman and to be fair, I’m not sure how we could hold you down. You have steady access to the rooftop and two years of parkour training.”

“What now?”

“Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice you sneaking off through the balcony?”

“And you didn’t even tell me?” 

“It would be hypocritical of us.” Sabine defended. “And if the worse came to happen, I had several… souvenirs from our travel around the world.”

“Thank you, Maman. I promise I will come back; And call you often. Well, maybe not too often.” Marinette already dashed to start packing. 

“Of course you will. And don’t get into too much trouble. I would hate to have to go and find you.” Sabine threatened with a bright smile on her face. 

“I’ll try, Maman.” The girl was only half-listening now. She couldn’t waste any more time. She learned how to trace the call about one-and-a-half years ago when she was still a bit ‘stalker-ish’. 

Sabine watched her daughter with amusement. So many memories returned to her now. Youth mostly well-spent if someone asked her. The ‘mostly’ part came to bite her just that moment as her phone pinged. She quickly checked the message and frowned. 

“I’m sorry, my little cupcake, but I need to go check it. An old friend turns out to be in town.” 

“I’ll call you later!” Marinette called from where she was furiously working on her laptop. 

When Sabine left, the kwamis swarmed her immediately.

“Your mom is so cool!” one of them cooed.

“And she’s one bad-”

“Roaar!” Tikki scolded the tiger kwami. 

“What’s the plan, pigtails?”

“Adrien’s call was made from within Gotham City. He’s still here for now. I also managed to track him to Burnley.”

“Didn’t that mercenary you called mention some Lawton?” Trixx offered.

“Yeah. I did try to search him up, but the only one with that name that I managed to find is Zoe Lawton. Wait. There is more!” She beamed up. “An old article in some Mexican newspaper.” She clicked on the link and read it aloud for her co-conspirators “Floyd Lawton, also known as Deadshot, was recently arrested after an assassination of a small group of smugglers. It is yet unknown if it was a hit or was it personal.” The article went on, but there was nothing more of interest.

“So the guy’s a mercenary too? That’s good. He’ll bring Adrien to you.”

“Not so fast. I remember hearing about him. Deadshot is one of the few mercenaries who try to keep some resemblance of a code. He’s also noted to be soft around children.”

“Isn’t Adrien almost an adult though?” Kaalki asked rather uncaring.

“Have you met the guy? He’s a literal ray of sunshine!” Plagg protested.

“So… he won’t deliver him and won’t return him.” Seeing that some Kwamis didn’t understand her logic, she clarified, “I don’t think that if he learns how Gabe treated his son he will be in any hurry to return him.”

“That makes sense.” The little being all nodded in agreement.

“So what’s the alternative?”

“He could adopt him,” Ziggy suggested.

“Please.” Marinette dismissed the idea. “He’s not Bruce Wayne.”

“He could smuggle him out of the country.”

“No. Everyone’s looking for him.” Roaar countered. “He would try to lay low somewhere.”

“Burley is large and full of potential safe houses.” Marinette started to think. “But there is also a large concentration of organized crime. Alone, we would have a hard time, but if we got them to help…”

“Is it wise to involve more criminals into your schemes Marinette?” Tikki asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry, sugarcube. To catch a bird you need wings. To catch a criminal you need crime.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“What’s the worse that could happen? I will go there as Seamstress. I won’t even appear in person. Right, Trixx?”

“You can count on it.” The fox kwami grinned.

“But… but…” Tikki wanted to scream her head off. Why did the previous guardian choose a juvenile criminal for her holder. Marinette used to be such a sweet girl. Where did Tikki go wrong?

---------

It was dark when an eerie mist filled one of the less-than-legal clubs in Burnley. From among the smoke, a figure entered. She was wearing a godet-type black dress with a side-cut that reached to her belt. The dress was overlayed with a very visible deep-blue corset that pronounced her blue eyes. It had some intricate laces on it. She also wore a puffy-sleeved blazer (also black, but with a dark blue finish) with large and very pronounced cuffs. Around her neck was a white double jabot fixed to a choker with a large black gem surrounded by diamonds. Her long deep-blue hair was let loose and hung over her shoulder. A simple black-and-white domino mask hid her features.

As she marched, one of her legs shifted the fabric to reveal she was wearing dark-blue socks reaching above her knee and black leather boots. A knife was strapped to the right one and several leather strips around her thigh and knee suggested she had more weapons on her. 

One of the men whistled.

“Looks like the entertainment arrived, boys!” Several cheered at that shout. At least until the man who dared to say it ended pinned to a wall with a rather large needle holding his jacket in place. It was also uncomfortably close to his jugular. 

“I’m not entertainment.” The Seamstress hissed. 

“Then you’re not invited.” Several men got up, many were holding now-empty bottled which they turned into impromptu weapons. 

“You will help me find what was taken from me.” She demanded.

“Yeah? Or?” One of the men laughed before charging at her. 

What followed next was perhaps the strangest carnage Gotham City has seen in years. The Seamstress danced between the attacks with almost unnatural grace and agility while stabbing the attackers in various places with large needles. None of the hits were life-threatening and most would heal within hours. The wounds were meant to incapacitate with minimal long-term damage.

By the time she reached the far end of the bar, almost every man was laid out on the ground groaning in pain or scrambling in fear.

“I am not asking. You will be rewarded for your obedience.” She then disappeared into the back alley. One brave/foolish enough who still had some fight left rushed after her, only to find the place completely empty. 

On the rooftop, Marinette let out her breath. She didn’t use any miraculous for that one, but she kept Plagg’s ring on. Chat Noir wasn’t seen in some time, so it would’ve been easier to explain that the ring was stolen by a criminal. She would really need to thank her mother for all the training she forced on her ever since the Akumas started to appear, as well as the lessons during her childhood. Those were all only the most basic grunts tonight, but she got their attention. One of them would run to their boss. There, she could actually do what she planned. 

--------

Just like she predicted, some of the less injured guys left the bar in hurry and drove their bikes to another part of the district. They disappeared into a three-story building. The windows were boarded, but some light seeped through on the top floor, so that is where she climbed. Indeed, by hanging on the edge of the window sill, she was able to hear the panicked screams inside.

“...and then she just disappeared! It was like that damn Bat, only much more terrifying. She was so small, and yet there was this… this… aura of power.”

Thank you Chloe for being queen B. Marinette stifled a laugh. Mimicking Chloe was the right choice. 

“Probably another one of his useless brats.” The boss dismissed them. Marinette decided that it would make the best impression if she contradicted him right now.

She wondered for a moment how to enter the armored building. She could rip the boards away and enter that way, but she was aiming for ethereal, not brute. In the end, she pulled a pair of glasses and put them over her mask. 

“Kaalki. Would you please help me break into headquarters of a criminal organization to scare them into serving me?”

“How many sugar cubes is it worth?”

“Ten. No more, no less.” Marinette had a small window of opportunity. 

“You’ve got a deal.” 

“Kaalki! Full gallop!” The light enveloped Marinette. When it died down, she was still in her outfit, only now the blue accents were brown instead. The gem on her neck held the symbol of a horse miraculous. “I love magical clothes. So easy to maintain the image.” Marinette muttered before a blue portal opened before her and she entered.

Inside, the five men (two who came to report, the boss, and his two guards) watched as the blue portal opened before them. The mist started to pour through it as well as through the boarded window. A figure calmly stepped inside.

“I didn’t expect the Gotham criminal organizations to be so… cliche.” She commented. Two needles sailed through the air and pinned the guards to the wall. Her horseshoe weapon waited patiently on her back should she need to use it.

“Who… who’re you?”

“Me? Oh. I’m The Seamstress. I had business in Gotham, but a fool dared to double-cross me. I need to find him.”

“Why… W-why shou-should w-we help… help you?” One of the guys from the bar asked.

“Oh. I’m not asking. I’m telling you that you’ll help me.” She informed. “I’m about to make you an offer you shouldn’t refuse.” 

The boss was now shaking. Damn city with its damn overpowered supervillains. They think they can simply run things as they want. First Red Hood took out most of the top brass of the underworld and then this? Working on his father’s farm was sounding more and more appealing. Then there was the shouldn’t. The reference to the classic movie was not lost, but she said shouldn’t. Not can’t. Once more he remembered how Red Hood took over. Submit, or die. This was the same. She clearly wouldn’t hesitate. He liked to think he could see those things. 

“I’m waiting.” The lady growled. “I’m not used to waiting.” Channeling Chloe is actually fun here. 

“Fine. You can have my seat. I’m going back to dad’s farm. Just let me go and you can have them.” The boss stood from his seat and motioned for her.

Marinette.exe is not responding. Do you want to execute the process? Not yet. 

She managed to keep enough cool to smile and take the seat, although she didn’t even register what was that. 

She would panic later. For now, tracking Adrien. “I need to find where Floyd Lawton, also called Deadshot, is hiding with my… asset.”

“It… I will see to it, Boss… lady.” One of the guys from the bar nodded very fast before rushing out of the room.

“I… will bring you the list of current assets.” One of the guards informed and walked somewhere. They were used to aggressive takeovers. This was their third. Boss change, guards remain. This was honestly the first time the previous boss managed to escape with his life. 

Meanwhile, Marinette finally realized what just happened. She really wanted to hit her head on the desk, but she was too afraid to show any signs of weakness. Why did she end up in this mess again?

----------

Sabine Cheng was waiting for her plane back when an airport guard approached her.

“Lady Cheng?” Sabine’s blood froze for a moment, but she refused to show any outward reaction at her past codename. “There is a man who wishes to discuss some… past debts.”

Damn it. And here she thought that bald bastard would forget about her. He had several more suitable people. He knew the risks of angering her.

Then again, she knew not to anger him either.

“Lead the way.” Her face was stone cold as she stood up. 

Inside a comfortable private lodge sat a blad man in a suit more expensive than the yearly revenue of her bakery. 

“Ah… Lady Cheng. I’m so happy you could’ve joined us.”

Sabine looked around and noticed that there was another man there, standing slightly in the shadows. A man she came to despise just as much as Luthor. Standing there was Gabriel Agreste.

“I can’t return the pleasure, Luthor.” She snarled, not letting her gaze drop from Agreste.

“Figured you’d say that.” The billionaire laughed. “But it doesn’t change that you came.”

“Be quick. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“About that.” Lex smiled. “I’m afraid you won’t be on that plane. I need you to do something for me.”

“Sadly, my calendar is full for the foreseeable future.” She retorted coldly.

“Then you will clean it. Unless that is, you want me to tell my good friend the president about your little assignment for me twenty years ago. If I recall, your pardon didn’t cover that particular crime.” The man chuckled.

The only upside of this whole situation to Sabine was that Agreste finally realized exactly who she was. Or at least how dangerous she was. The deal she made ensured that Lady Cheng disappeared from everywhere but some people’s memory. To her dismay, Lex didn’t forget. And he still had that damning evidence.

She also knew exactly what was the job.

“I don’t do jobs involving kids, Luthor.” She seethed through gritted teeth. It wouldn’t matter, but she hoped it would at least give him a pause.

“Adrien Agreste was about to be married. I think that can calm your conscience. He was all but adult.” That despicable man dismissed her concern, as she predicted.

“I’m a little rusty. Don’t you have someone younger? Someone who would actually want to do this?” Sabine deadpanned. She kept true to the deal she made for her and her husband’s pardon and didn’t do any… extracurricular work.

“Alas, the fact you’re unwilling is why I need you. You see, the client, whoever they are, picked Agreste Jr. as a target in a… battle royale of sorts. It quickly stopped being about the ludicrous money reward. It’s now about proving who’s the best. And they won’t stop until they deliver him to that mysterious Seamstress.”

“So what do you want? I’m sure you could’ve bought some of them to drop the glory part.” She really didn’t want to do this.

“I offered to pay five times the price, but most of the competent ones want a shot at whatever that job is. A mysterious benefactor with no history, nonexistent in any database in the world, paying a small fortune for a simple job and offering further work? Doesn’t it sound familiar?” Lex reclined in his chair and smiled.

“One job only. I want everything you have on me. And ten times the bounty.” She noted his discomfort. “Don’t give me that look, Luthor. You can afford it. My daughter’s about to start a university.” Sabine turned to Gabriel. “I must thank you for the idea. Homeschooling really helps when one is gifted.”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” Lex grumbled. If he didn’t know the quality of her works, he would’ve laughed at the price. Except he foolishly revealed that he was desperate.

“Oh, I’m sure we can.” Sabine smiled. She was like a cat that just caught a mouse.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Euryale NSFW ABC maybe?

Written by @evoedbd​

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Cuddles are a must.  Euryale is instantly all over her partner, albeit quite obliviously.  Mortals are such strange creatures sometimes, but no request is too outrageous for Euryale to follow without question when it comes to aftercare.

 B= Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Hands.  Hands down. The way elegant fingers can curl so viciously around the hilt of a blade, but weave so softly between Euryale’s own.  The way those fingers can be so filling, but never bring undesired pain.  Nothing is better than hands Euryale knows she is safe to shatter into.

   C= Cum (Anything to do with cum basically …)

Euryale adores feeling the evidence of lovemaking.  Yet, nothing is as delicious to her as a kiss with her lover’s taste upon her lips, or her own taste upon her lover’s.  Trading flavours in an intimate kiss is the perfect ending to any night.

   D= Dirty Talk (Pretty self-explanatory)

Dirty talk is not Euryale’s strong suit, or particularly to her tastes.  Her lovers can rail her into the next century, but they’d better not dare degrade her like some backstreet prostitute.  If one is to speak dirty to Euryale, they’d best make it sound like they are addressing royalty.  Euryale will accept nothing less.

 E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

She’s over 200 years old.  Euryale has done most things at least once.  She knows what she likes, but she’s never done things with a mortal she genuinely cares about before.  For that, she relishes the experiences with her seemingly mortal girlfriend as if they are new.  This makes her seem less experienced than she truly is, at least under a certain woman’s touch.

 F= Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Euryale couldn’t answer that.  Some days, she simply wants to be held down into the mattress and taken violently, like an animal in heat.  Ironically, this desire seems to align with the seasons.  Otherwise she simply wants ride her girlfriend, trying to hold eye contact as long as possible, fists clenched around the knives stabbed into the headboard or wall.

 G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc?)

Euryale is as serious as a heart attack. She will not suffer a lover laughing at her.  That said, something about her mortal has her want to be a little playful.  Her knives always cameo, usually stabbed into the furniture as a handhold as the little mortal rocks her world.

 H= Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc?)

Waxed.  Kept completely bare.  Euryale likes her sensitive skin exposed and smooth.

   I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect …)

She tries.  Truly, Euryale tries to be romantic.  Sadly, many of her partners seem to find her intimidating, or are too distracted by her knives to notice.  Strangely, it is her little mortal who seems to find Euryale’s behaviours endearing, happy to kiss any knife brought to her face with a dreamy expression.

 J= Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

Euryale is very experienced with herself.  She enjoys teasing herself, stroking and enjoying the feeling of her smooth, sensitive skin beneath her palms until she can’t wait any longer.  This is perhaps one of the only times that Euryale will stay quiet, squeaking and moaning behind a hand clamped over her mouth.

   K= Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Knives.  Anytime Euryale can have her knives involved instantly revs her engines.  Seeing her partner kiss the length.  Freezing the blades so their chill will rile up her girl.  Creating handholds.

   L= Location (Favorite Place to do the deed)

Chairs are good.  The perfect place to ride her Girlfriend’s fingers, using her own back to shield anybody from laying eyes on her precious mortal.  Wherever that chair is sitting is completely irrelevant.  Though, she’s noticed her Girlfriend prefers her apartment.

   M= Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

Her girlfriend. The woman is so unimaginably beautiful, carved by Hephaestus to show the world the true meaning of Lust.  But she is so gentle and sweet too.  She looks at Euryale’s quirks with this perfect quirk of her lips that has the Gorgon unable to focus on anything but the memories of the things that mouth can do.  The sweet kisses and kind words that fill Euryale’s heart. These romantic emotions are so new to the Gorgon. Sometimes, they overwhelm her until the heat burning in her body needs to be released.  Its then that Euryale pounces.

 N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Incest.  No mommy kinks. No stepsister plays.  Calling Euryale “babe” is the fastest way to have the Gorgon leaping off her girlfriend’s lap with an indignant shriek.

 O= Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Euryale is an excellent giver.  Oral with Euryale is an experience many mortal women would die for.  However, Euryale herself is nervous about receiving, not because of embarrassment, but for safety reasons.  Euryale loses her mind receiving, and often forgets how strong she is when she clamps her thighs.  A traumatic experience with crushing a mortal’s skull has let her hesitant to let someone she cares about go down.

 P= Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc)

The name of the game is passionate.  Euryale is fire, hungry and demanding from the first moment.  She’s borderline primal, all growls bites, hard movements.  Euryale is the most devoted worshipper of her lover’s body.  That animalistic intensity is tempered into a thorough claiming of every single inch of her girl’s body. Even with a husk to her voice, Euryale will snarl her praises, refusing to let her girlfriend think she is unappreciated for a single moment.  One might say that Euryale’s energy in bed is that of someone who has been edged to the point of fury. Euryale wants to feel worshipped, just as she wants to worship.  She has a goddess in her bed, and as twitchy as Euryale can be, there is no way she will disappoint.   Nothing but her lover’s requests will tame her.

Euryale’s girlfriend however is gentle, soft hands guiding Euryale instead of trapping her.  Letting Euryale wear herself out, all the while feeling that she is loved and valued.  When Euryale settles enough to surrender, it is slow and gentle, coaxing Euryale slowly into every crest of bliss.  The girlfriend is all too happy to use her body, to cover Euryale, blanketing her as the Gorgon sobs into her neck.

   Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Euryale is happy to shove her girlfriend into a chair and demand hands beneath her dress.  She is happy to ride to a fast orgasm.  Or shove her hand down the girl’s pants and drag a climax out of her, and a second for good measure.

   R= Risks (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

Their very relationship feels like a risk.  Euryale’s body has the strength to crush and destroy her girl if she loses concentration for a moment.  Everything new they do is planned, often by her Girlfriend.  However, if her Girlfriend steals the marble cuffs, then Euryale is trusting enough to try anything.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last …)

Days.  Euryale can go for literal days when it is just sex with an equally ungodly partner.  Emotionally, she can go hours before she burns out mentally.  Her girlfriend stops when Euryale’s mind disconnects, not wanting just a body.

 T= Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes.  Euryale has access to the ungodly monster category of toys, along with her Aura.   Her girlfriend has a more chaste collection of electronic toys.  Combining them on Euryale is a fun weekend.  They help compensate for her girlfriend’s mortal stamina.

 U= Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Euryale doesn’t.  If she wants, she takes.  And takes, and takes and takes.  Not that her girlfriend complains, afterall, this is what they agreed to.  In fact, the unintentional tease is that her girlfriend is always expecting Euryale to pounce.

 V= Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

In private, loud.  Euryale has no qualms about growling into her girlfriend’s neck, drawing out scream after scream to the point neighbours have called the cops on them in the past.  Soundproofing the walls has helped a little. Not entirely.  Maybe because Euryale has stabbed the walls too many times.

   W= Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Euryale’s girlfriend adores Euryale’s nose.  She continuously presses kisses or attempts to nip at the tip to Gorgon’s nose, both in sexual situations and just everyday playfulness.

   X= X-rated thoughts (let’s see what’s going on in their head)

Half of Euryale’s day is spent remembering the feeling of her girlfriend’s fingers inside her, knocking those perfect spots, thumb pressing into her clit.   How she wants to take her girl, press her into the walls, palm at her perfect ass.  Squeeze.   Going any further leads to situations, and Euryale can’t afford those until her girlfriend is off the clock.

   Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

24/7.  Euryale is one snap of her girlfriend’s fingers away from a turned-on mess.

   Z= Zzz (… How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Euryale holds on as long as she can, wanting to spend time snuggling into her girlfriend’s back and shoulders.  She will, without fail, stay awake until she is positive that her girlfriend understands how deeply loved she truly is.  Even if words don’t work, gentle kisses and nips, tender brushes of hands across her hips and body.  Once her girlfriend is asleep, Euryale will eventually drift off with a content smile across her lips.

[hale-13]

Violation of Order

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 14 - Hair Grabbing

Peter settled earlier than anyone else he knew and he could only attribute it to one person. Since then, he and Zara had a hard time being more than a few feet away from each other - he needed her close to protect her from ever going through that again.

Words: 2151, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark

TW: Non-Consensual Touching, Implied Sexual Assault, Panic Attacks

Daemon AU

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Contrary to what popular scientific and psychological research would imply, Peter settled early.

Zara had always enjoyed shifting, bouncing between fifteen to twenty forms a day to whatever suited her fancy in the moment and taking great pleasure in trying every fantastical creature she and Peter could dream up. Peter was always one of the smallest of his peers so she liked to be big and intimidating compared to those around him.

Well, until his parents died.

After that Zara tended to prefer small and agile creatures, animals that could hide in Peter’s pockets or the hood of his jacket – where they could get skin to skin contact. Snakes that could coil around his arms, birds that could nest in his ratty hair, ferrets that could curl up around his neck and tickle his chin. Peter didn’t mind the extra comfort, he and Zara were always extremely close but they couldn’t stand to be more than a few feet from each other after he came to live with May and Ben.

Skip’s daemon had been a wolf – an odd sight in New York – and had held Zara tight in her jaws to get Peter to comply.

Zara had screamed and cried and shifted and clawed at the other daemon to get away resulting in Skip gripping her tightly in one fist and tossing her into the wall. Peter and Zara had screamed in unison at the unwelcome touch and had been stunned enough for Skip to get what he wanted.

When Zara settled into an opossum later that night they had cried together for their lost childhoods. For growing up too quickly. For knowing that it was probably going to happen again and feeling helpless to stop it. Sen and Lotte, May and Ben’s daemons had cuddled and groomed Zara the next day, trying to offer what comfort they could while May and Ben tried to get through to Peter. It wasn’t until months later that Zara finally spoke up on Peter’s behalf to save them.

Peter’s been through a lot in his life but the only thing that came close to have his soul manhandled was the Bite and Ben’s subsequent death.

At the single Easter Mass May had taken him too in his early years living with his aunt and uncle, the priest had described death as beautiful – the entry into the next life. The dust from the deceased’s daemon a shower of blessings on the ones they loved. The dust from Lotte, a beautiful yellow lab, was the least beautiful thing Peter had ever seen as it mixed with the blood coating the ground and settled into his and Zara’s hair. The sight of it washing off and down the drain later was even worse.

Peter’s main goal as Spider-Man became protecting others from having to experience something similar.

“Peter!” Ned said, pulling Peter out of his wandering and back into the present. His macaw daemon, Veerle, was flaring her scarlet plumage and adjusting her wings to balance better on his best friend’s shoulder and trying to peer into Peter’s hood where Zara had been snoozing through the last of his classes. “Did you hear anything I said?”

“Uh… yeah of course!” Peter cringed at the obvious lie in his voice and glared at Veerle who snickered at him. Ned just rolled his eyes.

“I was saying we should meet up tomorrow afternoon to get a head start on that project from Harrington. I can’t take the stress of procrastinating again,” Ned told him dramatically, elbowing him lightly in the side as they exited the doors to Midtown and started walking in the direction of Ned’s house.

“It’s not due for a month,” Peter pointed out, shivering as Zara shifted in his hood, wrapping her tail around his neck and propping her head up to rest on his shoulder with a yawn.

“That’s what you said last time,” she pointed out and Peter flicked her on the nose with a scoff of betrayal, ignoring his friend’s laughing. “Hey!”

“Whose side are you on here huh?” He asked in mock anger before breaking out in a smile. It had been a while since he and Ned had had the opportunity to hang out as just the four of them – too long in fact. Peter was excited for the weekend that they had planned; a pizza and movie marathon of some classic Sci-if and now, assumingely, some homework. Whatever, they were still going to have a great time. All Peter needed to do was a quick evening patrol and he was done for the weekend.

“Ned,” Zara answered, rubbing her nose dramatically with a paw. Peter rolled his eyes at her as he started scoping for a good alley to change in that was close to Ned’s house, spotting a good one not too far ahead.

“I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours and then I can get started on my part,” Peter promised Ned as he made his way to the alley. “I promise this time.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Ned said with an eye roll, his face a little pinched but still indulgent. “Try not to get stabbed this time.”

“No promises,” Peter muttered as they parted. Not that he would tell Ned if he did get injured anyway; he kept a pretty decent first aid kit with him at all times and he felt pretty confident that he could hide any injury from his friend until it completely healed. The alley he ducked into was empty except for the couple beaten dumpsters that Peter hid behind to change into his suit, offering his open back for Zara to climb into. Patrolling with her wasn’t always the easiest but they had settled into a rhythm for the most part.

Firing a web, Peter took off into Queens, hoping for a relaxing afternoon.

————————————————

It was nearing eleven when Ned sent his obligatory ‘I told you so’ text complete with eye roll emoji that Peter left on read just for the principal of the thing. It had been a busy Friday evening and had only just started to slow down enough for Peter and Zara to take a breather – he was thankful May was working tonight so he wouldn’t get caught inevitably breaking his curfew.

“I think we’re done,” Zara told him with a yawn, her head poked out the top of his book bag and looking over his shoulder as Peter leisurely swung from web to web heading, vaguely, toward home.

He hummed. “One more quick scan,” he compromised and Zara grumbled a little but didn’t protest when he said “Got anything for me K?”

“Sure thing Peter,” Karen’s chirpy voice replied. “An emergency call was just placed two blocks away for a possible mugging in progress.”

“Throw it up on the screen for me,” Peter said, hopping off the roof he was perched on and swinging toward the blinking red dot on his HUD as quickly as he could. Zara sighed from his backpack and kept her head poked out to observe. Muggings weren’t (normally) that big of a deal so she didn’t really hide in the bag as much for those – unless it started to get really hairy.

“That’s all I have! I promise I don’t have anything else!” A man’s voice yelled, the timbre trembling and terrified as Peter swung onto the scene. The victim couldn’t have been much older than Peter and he and his robin daemon were pressed as tightly to the dirty brick wall as they could get, trying to stay away from the mugger brandishing a knife and his corgi daemon – growling and snarling between his legs.

“Lovely evening right gentlemen?” Peter quipped as he dropped to the ground in a crouch a few feet away. “Perfect time to get into a little larceny am I right?”

“This doesn’t involve you Spider-Man,” the mugger said, turning to face Peter instead, his daemon showing her teeth. Zara, head still poked out of his backpack, hissed loudly in return and scuttled up to sit on Peter’s shoulder, anchoring herself with her tail around his neck and digging her sharp little claws into his suit.

“You know,” Peter told him conversationally, standing and trying to telepathically communicate to the victim to make his escape out the other end of the alley. “That’s what they all say but I just can’t seem to mind my own business,” he shrugged as if to say ‘oh well’ and took a step closer. The victim had started edging out of the alley so Peter needed to keep up with the distraction until he was safe. “Now how’s about you put the knife away and I’ll web you to the wall and we all leave here friends?”

The mugger scoffed and turned to look at his victim with a ‘can you believe this guy’ expression on his face before it darkened at the sight of his escaping prey.”Hey!” He yelled, turning fully and reaching out to grab the man – knife raising threateningly. Peter, in an act of desperation, jumped in between them causing the man to grab onto Zara by the scruff of the neck instead.

Peter nearly dropped to the ground under the pain of feeling someone grabbing onto his bare soul and Zara screamed and hissed in the man’s grip, finally biting him on the wrist so he dropped her to the ground, some of her course hair still stuck to his palm and flaking off in pieces. Looking horrified and sick himself, the man took off with his corgi daemon whimpering at his heels leaving Peter alone.

Peter let out a sob, his skin still crawling, and curled up into a tight ball. The last time anyone had touched Zara had been Skip when he had… when he…

“Your heart rate has reached unacceptable levels,” Karen’s clear voice cut through. “Mr. Stark is on his way.”

Peter gasped in response (he couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t he breathe?) and reached out blindly for where Zara was curled up and trembling a few feet away, scooping her into his chest and pressing his masked face into the fur of her side.

“Peter Mr. Stark is three minutes out but you need to control your breathing,” Karen told him gently. “Please follow the prompts on the screen – in for four, hold seven, out eight.”

Peter couldn’t even breathe in for one second let alone four but he tried to follow Karen’s directions – having Zara back in his arms where he could run his fingers through her hair and try to get rid of the unwanted touch that he could still feel phantom echos of helped some but not enough. By the time Tony landed with Silon in his arms a few minutes later Peter hadn’t really managed to improve his mental state by much.

“Oh Pete,” Tony said sadly, stepping out of the suit and kneeling down in front of Peter. “I’m so sorry kiddo.” Peter just let out a loud sob in response but didn’t protest Tony pulling his mask carefully over his head and running calloused fingers through his hair. Silon, Tony’s large serval daemon, cautiously curled over Peter to begin nuzzling Zara, his purr sounding comforting but sad.

“He touched her,” Peter forced out, nearly gagging as he said it, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks for Tony to rub away with his thumbs. “He grabbed her.”

“I know buddy, I saw,” Tony confirmed, levering Peter up to sit cross-legged with his back to the wall and Zara coiled in his lap. “I know there’s nothing I can say that will help but I’ve got Happy on the way. We’re going back to the Tower and we’re going to watch Star Wars and you’re going to cuddle with her okay? It’ll help.”

Peter nodded erratically, gripping Zara tighter for a moment and then releasing her when she reached out one of her paws to Silon. He let her climb onto his back and grip onto him with all four limbs and tail, craning his neck back to groom her gently. “The last person to touch her was… it was… I didn’t want…”

“I know Petey,” Tony told him as he pulled him in for a firm hug that Peter was quick to reciprocate, clinging onto his mentor just as tightly as Zara was to Silon. “I know buddy, just let it out.”

There were some things that Tony Stark could fix – Peter could trust him to try to fix just about any problem he was presented with – but Peter knew that this would be one of those things that would be cracked inside of him forever. Something that no one besides Peter and Zara could work on and something that would always haunt them. But, sitting there with his mentor in one of the dirty alleys of Queens, Peter thought he could feel it mending.

[arcticdementor]

Any scenario in which a White Neo-Nazi or “incel” stabs a woman nearly to death merely for “working” would elicit outrage in Germany — and rightfully so.

After the attacks, extensive media coverage would undoubtedly follow, along with German politicians racing to be the first to offer their condemnation — again, rightfully so. Commentators would decry toxic masculinity, the danger of the White male patriarchy, and demand increased funding to fight right-wing terrorism and violence against women. Left-wing groups would also surely mobilize protests of their own.

Last week, an Afghan refugee stabbed a 58-year-old female gardener in the neck multiple times, then proceeded to stab an elderly man trying to intervene. The perpetrator told the police afterwards that he stabbed her because she was working, and that he did not approve of women working.

The attack has elicited little in terms media commentary in Germany, let alone outrage. From any point of view, the attack is abhorrent, but from the feminist perspective, it could not be a more clear case of misogyny: a woman attacked at random simply for doing her job.

Yet prominent German feminists, such as Margarete Stokowski and Sophie Passmann, are notably silent. They did not say a word in response to a woman being brutally stabbed simply for “working”, despite their usual habit of commenting on every triviality or microaggression on their Twitter accounts. The German media has been remarkably quiet as well, running short news blurbs such as Deutche Welle’s English-language headline: Berlin: Man attacks woman with knife for ‘working’. Even less content is provided in German-language pieces, such as the Focus headline, “Man stabs female gardener in the neck multiple times in a park – motive still unclear”

The reality is that this is not merely a case of a random “man” stabbing a “woman” — according to the police, the man stated a clear motive for the attack. What we know for sure is that this type of attack is not alien to Afghan society or its people. Only by acknowledging this fact can there be an honest discussion about the consequences of mass migration from countries that not only treat women in abhorrent ways but feature a broad range of cultural practices, ranging from corruption to extremist religious views, that are anathema to the way the West organizes its own societies in the modern world.

…

In other words, attacks on women are not a bug of Afghan society, but a feature, in the same way that systematic sexual assault against children is not a bug there, but a feature. The type of random attack on women seen in the stabbing of a gardener in Germany, along with other sexual assaults and violent crimes recorded in Germany, is not rare in Afghan society — and, increasingly, not rare in German society either. According to German statistics, Afghans are 500 percent more likely to commit a criminal offense than native Germans are. In terms of sexual assaults, the numbers are even worse, with Afghans 12,000 percent more likely to commit a sexual assault than the rest of society. 

…

As for Germany? An Afghan father and his two sons stabbed a man 90 times in what they called an honor killing. Last month, two Afghans murdered their sister because she did not live “according to their values“. In a similar case, a teenage Afghan migrant stabbed his sister 20 times for, again, not living according to his values. She later died in the hospital. An Afghan man stabbed his wife in front of a bus full of schoolchildren in 2020, with the man stating during the trial that his wife was his personal property that he could do what he wanted to. An Afghan is believed to have stabbed a woman who converted from Islam to Christianity in the Bavarian town of Prien. Child marriage, which was once unheard of in Germany, has also grown exponentially, with Afghans, along with other Middle East group, responsible for the phenomenon. Although acid attacks are exceedingly rare in Germany, in the UK, where they are commonplace, Afghans, along with Pakistanis, are often involved.

…

All of these events point to a reality that the West is entirely unwilling to acknowledge because it does not fit the prevailing narrative, one that most people increasingly accept as a religion. It is all because of the power of one word: “racist”.

As evidenced by the mass grooming cases in Britain, police are literally willing to allow rape to happen if it means aggressors aren’t called the “r-word”. Police forces are sworn to protect the citizenry and have state powers that enable them to do so. If they are swayed by the power of the word to such a degree, it is easy to see why the feminists of Twitter are so willing to overlook the most brutally anti-feminist cultures if those people happen to be Brown, Black or any other color other than White.

[starbornvalkyrie]

acotar one sentence summary

T-minus four months until the A Court of Silver Flame release! In preparation for this long-awaited book, I will be posting one-sentence-per-chapter summaries of ACOTAR, ACOMAF, ACOWAR, and ACOFAS on the 16th of each month.

Also, if you haven’t seen SJM’s sneak peek, you can find it on insta or on this meme by @illyrianwitchling. it’s a mood. and i am deceased.

**Spoiler Warning** This is NOT a blurb or a review. I literally summarized each chapter in one sentence. Yes, they are some of the longest run-on sentences I have ever written and would definitely be flagged by every English teacher ever. And yes, I definitely over-used the semicolon, conjunctions, lists, and pretty much most syntax in the English language. But no, I did not care if the sentences were better split into two or more. It was more fun this way, and easier to keep track of.

Absolutely everything about this belongs to the queen, Sarah J. Maas.

Without further ado, if you lack the time to read everything again, have no fear! Just keep reading below the cut, and enjoy! [The numbers at the beginning of the paragraphs indicate the chapter numbers if you want to skip to certain parts!]

Final Word Count: 2863

[ 1 ] It’s winter and snowing; Feyre is hunting for food when a wolf--that may or may not be a faerie--kills a deer, but she kills the wolf with an ash arrow, skins it, and takes the pelt and the deer home. When Feyre gets home, her father and older sisters--Nesta and Elain--eat the deer, then Feyre and Nesta argue over pretty much everything, especially Nesta’s imminent engagement to Tomas Mandray. The next day, Feyre sold the wolf pelt and deer hide to a mercenary who warned her about faeries crossing the wall while Nesta and Elain were harassed by the Children of the Blessed--people who worship faeries like gods; their dinner that night was interrupted by a roar.

[ 4 ] A faerie in beast-form demands retribution for his wolf friend who was murdered--a life for a life--so Feyre opts to go with the faerie to live out the rest of her days in Prythian, the faerie realm. Feyre and the beast-faerie travel north on horseback, but Feyre doesn’t remember most of it because the male used magic to render her unconscious until they reached Prythian.

[ 6 ] When they reach the beast’s estate, he shifts back into his Fae form, Feyre meets Lucien--an emissary--and she notices that everyone is wearing a mask; Alis--a servant--takes Feyre to a lavish room where she bathed, groomed, clothed, and warned her to talk less, smile more, and listen. She finally dines with Lucien and the beast-fae--whose name is Tamlin--and decides both of them are assholes; the next day she wanders the estate and admires beautiful paintings until Tamlin finds her and tells are about the blight that has plagued Prythian, which also explains why everyone is stuck in a mask. When Feyre was wandering through the gardens, she heard giggling and felt someone watching her but only noticed a silver shimmer; at dinner it seemed like Lucien and Tamlin were trying to get to know her better, and she told them her mother died of Typhus when she was eight.

[ 9 ] In an attempt to get Lucien to talk to Tamlin about freeing her, Feyre went with him on his patrol of the border, but her attempts were futile, and, instead, he let slip that there was a her related to the magic that forced them to keep their masks on; they kept up their banter until Lucien warned her to do nothing but look straight ahead when Feyre felt it. A cold presence overtook them as the Bogge appeared, and after it left, Lucien explained that once one acknowledges the Bogge, it can kill you; Lucien told Tamlin about it when they got back which urged Tamlin went to go hunt for it, and when Feyre was looking out the window waiting for him to return, she saw her father in the garden.

[ 11 ] Before she could get far, Tamlin finds her and makes her realize that it wasn’t her father, but a puca, and warned her that the wards between territories have weakened and everything has changed; Tamlin hunts the Bogge day and night without help after he tells Feyre that her family is fed and comfortable, while Feyre has nightmares about killing Andras. 

[ 12 ] Though she is illiterate, Feyre walked the halls of the estate trying to make a map until Tamlin returned, injured, from killing the Bogge, so she went to the infirmary to help his wound; Feyre overheard a conversation about Tamlin “running out of time” and Lucien forced Tamlin to spend time with Feyre, leading Feyre to admit she does not like hunting, so Tamlin brought her to the study. 

[ 13 ] In the study, Feyre tried to teach herself to read so that she may send a letter to her family, but on a break, she discovered a mural depicting the story of Prythian--along with the seven courts; after fighting with Tamlin about denying his help in writing the letter, Feyre went to Lucien to ask how to catch a Suriel. In her success with trapping the Suriel, Feyre discovers that Tamlin is the High Lord of the Spring Court, learns about the King of Hybern, is warned to Stay with the High Lord, and is about to learn about one of a disobedient commander from Hybern called The Deceiver, when four naga--terrifying faeries made of shadow and rot--found them in the clearing. Feyre freed the Suriel, killed one naga, ran away, killed a second naga with her knife when it grabbed her, was saved by Tamlin who killed the last two, and was healed by him as well--they shared a moment. 

[ 16 ] After Feyre cleaned up from the attack, she met Lucien and Tamlin for dinner where they told her that faeries can indeed lie and are unharmed by iron and that Feyre’s family know she’s okay and know to run at the first sign of something amiss due to a threat in Prythian; Feyre is so grateful, she opens up to Tamlin a little more and asks for paint which he responds to by offering to show her the gallery--sparks are beginning to fly.

[ 17 ] Feyre woke from a nightmare only to hear shouting from Tamlin as he carried a faerie with his wings cut off, and when Tamlin realized there was no way to save him, Feyre held the faerie’s hand until he died and a little while after that; when Tamlin walked Feyre back upstairs, she expressed her regret and sorrow for killing his friend.

[ 18 ] The next day, Tamlin and Lucien took Feyre to a beautiful landscape where Tamlin showed Feyre a pool of starlight and revealed a bit of Lucien’s background--he is the youngest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court--and as the swam in starlight, Feyre told Tamlin about her father’s demise and her years in the woods; on the ride back to the manor, Lucien told Feyre he was sorry that he hesitated when he heard her scream from the naga attack and gifted her his jeweled hunting knife.

[ 19 ] When Feyre’s painting supplies arrived, Tamlin showed her the gallery, and she began to paint and paint for weeks and weeks until one day, they shared a moment in the gardens; Tamlin told Feyre about his parents, how he became High Lord when his entire family was killed, and was in the middle of explaining Calanmai--Fire Night--when the Attor, invisible to Feyre, came to confront Tamlin about how much time he has left and to not break his terms with her.

[ 20 ] The day of Calanmai arrived, and Tamlin ordered Feyre to lock herself in her room until morning, so she did--until she didn’t; Feyre followed the drums to find some sort of firelit party filled with High Fae, and when three of them tried to lure her away, the “most beautiful man she’d ever seen” saved her from them. Feyre thanked the stranger then walked away and found Lucien who angrily brought her back to the manor as he explained that magic is going to take over Tamlin and force him to mate with a random female for the good of the land; when the Great Rite is over, Tamlin finds Feyre and expresses how badly he wanted it to be her instead--shows it by biting her neck.

[ 21 ] Feyre and Tamlin tease each other about the night before and apologize for their behaviors at lunch the next day, and for dinner, Feyre asks Alis to dress her up in a gown rather than the tunic she usually wears; Feyre brought Tamlin to the room she’s been painting in, showing him a painting she did of the pool of starlight, as well as various images of her life in the mortal lands, and Tamlin chooses to keep the painting of the woods she used to hunt in. The next day, Feyre and Tamlin were in the enchanted forest where he granted her fae senses that allow her to truly experience Prythian--they have another moment.

[ 23 ] When Feyre wakes up, she finds Alis in her natural form and is able to see all of the fae who were hidden from her initially; she went to go paint in the garden but is startled by a head spiked to the top of the fountain, and Tamlin and Lucien claimed it was the High Lord of the Night Court’s idea of a cruel joke.

[ 24 ] The Summer Solstice came, and although the blight seems to be getting more intense, the denizens of the Spring Court partied; they danced, drank wine, Tamlin played the fiddle, then he took her to a meadow and kissed her and watched the sunrise. Despite the great night they had, Lucien informed them the next day that the blight took out two dozen Winter Court younglings, then a silence came over them, and Tamlin ordered Lucien to glamour Feyre to hide her from the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand; Feyre listened as he taunted Tamlin and Lucien, learning about a woman named Amarantha until Rhysand discovers she’s there and seizes control of her mind until she told him her name is Clare Beddor.

[ 26 ] The encounter with Rhysand scared Tamlin so badly, he told Feyre that he was sending her back to the mortal realm; as a send-off, they made love until the morning, and before she drifted to sleep, Tamlin expressed that he loved her, thorns and all. Alis dressed Feyre in wealthy human clothing, Lucien pleaded with Tamlin to let her stay, but Tamlin sent her off with an “I love you” and a promise that he will see her again; when she arrives at her family’s new estate, Elain tells her how they got their fortune back excitedly, while Nesta was a more wary of her return.

[ 28 ] Elain shows Feyre her garden, prattling on about the social season and how Nesta tried to visit Feyre only to have her carriage break down and have to return; Feyre’s father finished counting the gold and jewels that Tamlin sent with Feyre, so she went to the cottage her family used to live in and found the path she took into the forest, longing for Tamlin to call her back to Prythian. Feyre handed out gold and silver coins to villagers, sneered at Tomas Mandray who was talking about a house that burned down with the whole family in it, and wished the best to Isaac and his new wife; back at the estate, Nesta told Feyre that Tamlin’s glamour didn’t work on her and how she tried to cross the wall but couldn’t find a way through, so Feyre told her the story of her time in Prythian, then Nesta asked her to teach her how to paint.

[ 30 ] After the ball Feyre’s father threw in her honor, she finds out that Clare Beddor’s family’s home was burned down and no one survived, so she tells Nesta and Elain to prepare for anything amiss coming from Prythian--she had to go back; it took her days, but Feyre finally found her way through the wall and to the Spring Court, only to find the manor wrecked, Tamlin nowhere to be found. Feyre finds Alis packing to flee the Spring Court, and she tells her the story of Amarantha, Jurian, and Clythia, and about the curse she put on Tamlin and his court for forty-nine years; Feyre finds out all she needed to do was tell Tamlin that she loves him, but it’s too late for that, so she asks Alis how to get Under the Mountain.

[ 32 ] Alis took Feyre all the way to a cave entrance that will take her Under the Mountain, and as Feyre snuck through the cave and tried to figure out where to go, the Attor found her. The Attor took Feyre to Amarantha’s throne room where she saw Tamlin seated next to her and found out they tortured Clare Beddor until she died; Amarantha made a deal with Feyre where she is to complete three trials on the full moon or solve a riddle to break Tamlin’s curse--or die--and then the Attor beat her. 

[ 34 ] Feyre woke in a dungeon with a broken nose and various injuries and waited until Lucien came and healed her a bit while also confirming that Amarantha keeps a hold of Jurian’s’ eye and finger bone; at some point, she is brought before Amarantha again, and the High Queen used Rhysand to trap Lucien’s mind until Feyre gave up her name, then Amarantha gave her the riddle that would free everyone immediately if she answers correctly.

[ 35 ] The first full moon and Feyre’s first trial came: she had to hunt the Middengard Wyrm in a labyrinth of mud, so Feyre set a trap made of bones in its lair and covered herself with the mud to make herself invisible to the blind worm; her plan worked, though she impaled her arm on bone, and when she was faced with Amarantha, she threw a bone in her direction before Amarantha told her only one person bet she would win--it was Rhysand.

[ 36 ] Feyre waited in pain for days until her fever spiked and Rhysand came to her cell to heal her, but at a cost; in return for healing her, Feyre is to spend one week a month in the Night Court with Rhysand after they were freed from Under the Mountain, and since it is apparently custom in his court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh, Feyre received a tattoo of dark blue designs on her left hand to her elbow.

[ 37 ] Between trials, the guards instructed Feyre to clean the floor of the hallway or else they will turn her over a fire, but they gave her dirty water that only made the floor dirtier, so she was about to give up when Lucien’s mother came and made the water clean in exchange for Feyre saving Lucien’s life; their next chore was to dig lentils from the ashes in Rhysand’s room, but he used magic again to help her, then used his powers to convince the guards to keep their hands off her and to stop giving her household chores.

[ 38 ] Every night until her next task, Feyre was bathed, painted, and dressed to become Rhysand’s plaything for evening festivities, but he always forced her to drink the wine so that she would not remember--though the paint on her body revealed that Rhysand never touched her anywhere but modest places; Amarantha caught a summer lordling trying to escape, so she used Rhysand to discover why, and, for whatever reason, he lied and said he was alone and gave the faerie a swift death, rather than shattering his mind like Amarantha asked.

[ 39 ] Feyre’s second task came: she had to solve a riddle to pull a lever or else she and Lucien would be crushed by a heated platform of spikes--but Feyre can’t read, so when she went for the wrong lever, pain from Rhysand flared in her hand until she hovered over the correct one; Rhysand--in her mind--instructed her back to her cell with dignity, where she wept until he came to visit her and licked her tears away--effectively keeping her from shattering completely.

[ 40 ] Again, Feyre spent every night after that as Rhysand’s plaything, until there was one night that they overheard the Attor and some other creature talking about the King of Hybern’s disappointment in Amarantha; Feyre almost broke after that until beautiful music entered her cell and took her away, if even for a moment.

[ 41 ] During the last party before her final trial, Feyre and Tamlin finally got a moment to sneak off together, but Rhysand found them and kissed Feyre until Amarantha saw to disguise the paint Tamlin ruined; later, Rhys went to Feyre’s cell and confided in her how unhappy and tired of Amarantha’s games he is, and she finds out he is targeted because it was Rhysand’s father who killed Tamlin’s family.

[ 42 ] Feyre’s final task is to stab three innocent faeries in the heart with an ash dagger, and though the first two kills were easy, something broke inside of her, and then shattered when she beheld Tamlin as the third faerie; Alis had told Feyre to listen, and from that, Feyre remembered that Tamlin’s heart is made of stone, therefore she could not kill him, so she said “I love you” and then stabbed him.

[ 43 ] Amarantha did not free everyone right away, but began to beat Feyre--and also Rhysand when he made moves to help her--trying to force her to say she doesn’t really love Tamlin, but Feyre figured out the answer to her riddle--love--and then Amarantha snapped her neck. Feyre watched from Rhysand’s mind as Lucien and the Spring Court removed their masks before Tamlin’s beast killed Amarantha; each of the Seven High Lords of Prythian came forward to sprinkle a kernel of their powers onto Feyre’s body in exchange for what she did for them--for freeing them.

[ 45 ] The High Lords made Feyre into a High Fae to bring her back to life, and then held meetings to discuss how to move on; before they left, Feyre was pulled to Rhysand so that he could say good-bye, but something startled him into leaving abruptly, so Feyre went back to Tamlin, and Amarantha’s Court was destroyed.

They went home.

To the Spring Court.

---

I wasn’t sure if I should add my tag list to this... but i did anyways. let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in these summaries lol. or send me an ask if you do lol

@maddymelv || @lucy617 || @tillyrubes10 || @faerie-queen-fireheart || @tottenhamboys20 || @the-third-me || @superspiritfestival || @rolltide7 || @courtofjurdan || @sleeping-and-books || @aelinchocolatelover || @julemmaes || @sorrehnotsorryy || @courtofjurdan || @acourtofaelinbryceandfeyre || @darlinminds || @lucieisabooknerd || @queen-of-glass || @jlinez || @abookishfreak || @stardelia || @ladywitchling || @rockgirl321 || @sjmships || @thewayshedreamed || @mamakramer || @meowsekai || @illyrianwitchling || @sanakapoor || @ireallyshouldsleeprn

[officialjimmybuffett]

— KILL ME A NATION character introduction (1/6)

ARYA RYS

“What does it mean?”  Nikita’s voice was a whisper, just like the light brush of her fingers on Arya’s neck.

Arya stiffened under her touch. “From Ki’ra I was born, to Ki’ra I will die.”  It was inscribed in her mind as much as it was inscribed on her body.  A tattoo on her neck and on her soul.  She owed everything to Ki’ra—her rescue, her safety, her purpose—and these anarchists threatened to burn it all.  Yet here she stood: barebacked and vulnerable, on display for the enemy.

Because that’s what Nikita was.  Right?

AGE: 21

GENDER: cis female

HOME: ki’ran isle

ROLE: ex-general current enemy-of-the-state

INTERESTS: classical music

Born and bred to serve the Ki’ran Empire, Arya never knew her parents.  Instead, she was groomed to be the perfect soldier by tutors and superiors, dedicating her formative years to one thing: the end of anarchy spread by those who dissented the Empire.

Arya proved herself a quick learner and quickly sped through the ranks, becoming a general in record time.  She also landed herself a spot in the Vit’a—a council of five select generals who aid the military triumvirate representative.  Her feat did not come without unwanted attention.  Among her fellow generals, Arya became the target of envy and ill-disguised anger.

Despite being an enemy amid her peers, she remained one of the most well-respected and feared generals in the Ki’ran Empire.  Arya was put in charge of Ki’ra’s occupation of Balu in the wake of the revolutionaries’ terrorist attack. Her efforts are dedicated to rooting out and destroying the resistance once and for all.

TAGLIST (ask to be added or removed)

@whorizcn @semblanche @dykeacademias @mshelleys @sunlight-and-starskies @lucieherodale @holotones @peachniche @lucamused @ecritblr @the-writers-blocks @herondalelucies @nepeinthe @innocentreticent @imagination-xx @knife-dragon @all-my-novels @em-dashes @ashesconstellation @writing-another-star @heyabella @samplewriting @prolongingtheprologue @waterfallofinkandpages @viviuyn @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables @writemares @leftover-starlight @aleswriteblr @writing-in-rain @cabvswater @vanzhuo @aelenko @sautrns @aepreall @raripuh @kaelie-quill @mahalii @tiphansia @souliloquyyy @writeherewaiting @towntimes

[hcrdcreeks]

I got 𝖑𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖞, got 𝖗𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖞 inside my DNA

Name: Slate Hardcreek

Gender: Cis Man

Age: Forty-four

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 6′1

Home District: Two

Status: Victor & mentor

Character Inspo: Tommy Shelby & Kendall Roy

𝖈𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖛𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

tw: mentions of abuse, gore, & eye trauma

His feet were too heavy, is what he remembers of youth. Breathing from his mouth, is one of his biggest sins, he remembers.

Hardcreek, what a beautiful name in Two. No, you weren’t Peacekeepers. As if you were to be bothered with such things in your District. You didn’t know the taste of copper like so many did. No, your father was a Victor himself. Winner of the 17th Hunger Games, in fact. At that time, kinks were just beginning to be worked out. Father didn’t know of the “glamor's” that came with Slate’s time.

Slate, born in one of the caves in Two, when Mother was touring the working of the facility on behalf of her husband, it was dirty and cold, but felt like a christening of good. Mother would say that Hardcreeks didn’t know ordinary. Once she began giving birth, she refused traveling to the med-bay. Her son would not be born from weakness of help from others.

Father produced and distributed arms across Districts. Meant he traveled frequently. A cold man with cold hands and cold eyes. Constantly telling Slate that his loud feet would get him killed. That breathing from his mouth took away his status. Mother wasn’t much better, sticking her fingers into his spine to get him to sit straight.

At six, he began training. “Careers” were an early concept but there was no way Father was going to end the Hardcreek legacy. Arms dealing be damned, his son was going to be a victor.

Slate has no idea if he was a soft child growing up. An semblance of it would have been wiped away before it could come to fruition. He was worked day and night. There were no room for friends. In fact, both Mother and Father only encouraged Slate to befriend peers in order to learn weaknesses. Weekly quizzes were formed at the dinner table. And how would you bring Claudius to his knees, Boy? 

Strategy came to start, then strength and agility in later years. Once it was acceptable, Father pulled Slate from unnecessary education, just to focus on training for the Games. Slate stopped learning reading, math, sciences, even history, after the age of ten.

Three years later, and you were deemed ready. In truth, he wasn’t exactly. Certainly, he was overly confident. He was bred for victory and he was hungry for it. Hungry to make his parents proud. He had to bruises from fingertips poking and prodding to make sure his body did as it needed to do. Every one of his peers in training, he’d figured how to bring them down. 

He was glory. He was a diamond. He was ready to shine and rise above everyone else, as he was meant to do.

In truth, Father just believed that he was small and nimble, and had a soft enough face that would earn him more sponsors than when he was to truly grow and become harsher.

Slate was a dazzle. The idea of well trained personalities wasn’t really grasped yet, and he nailed it. A delight to talk to, and absolute icon in every other category. It didn’t hurt that he had a knockout stylist that made him prime and ready to shock. To the shock of no one, he was laid out with sponsors.

Victory was handed to him on a silver platter. In a tree-dense arena, he was still small enough to climb, but strong enough to choke out other tributes once he had the upper hand. His signature was coming down from the trees, latching onto them, and landing his small blade into their eye.

It was only ironic for him to end up losing his own from an arrow attack.

The final battle, and it all came down to wits. Slate watched the other in training, even became her friend for a moment. Knew that she had an older brother and a boyfriend back home she wanted to get back to. Clutching the arrow to his eye, he said he didn’t even want to win. That this was all so he could just bring disgrace to his father, to get back for years of torment. Her story inspired him and he wanted her to take the victory, and make her district proud. All he wanted was to be given mercy, and be held in death.

She approached, knife pointed to his chest. As the knife began to plunge, a weaponless Slate took the arrow from his eye, eye and all, and drove the arrow into the neck of the other victor. Again, and again, pierced through the throat of the little girl, and claimed his victory.

Unfortunately, technology wasn’t exactly what it was then, and certainly, the could mainly take care of the scar to his chest, sans for a pink mark, but the eye was forever gone. Instead, Slate was given a glass replacement. 

Finally, he was the boy with the crown. Father was proud. Mother was proud. And in truth, Slate was proud. In his victory, he was never boastful. Father had his expectations, but he did not raise a show-boat winner. Slate would sit upon his throne, wave to his adorers. 

But after that, Mother and Father stopped caring. In their eyes, their son was an adult, and on his own. He had brother the victory, and the legacy, and no longer served them. While this wasn’t clear that things would end this way, Slate wasn’t entirely shocked. While Father had his arms, Slate took to victory. And victory would be something he would need to continue to bring. 

He even opted out of eye replacements when tech would improve. He needed the reminder for his tributes that victory comes at a price. That even lavish Slate, had lost. Every year, he would bounce between Capitol, maintaining loyal followers that would blindly trust his tributes, and training future tributes. Just like Father, fingers jabbed in spines, he told the nine year old to stop breathing from his mouth. He was above that. 

Brutality, cold, it knew him well. But success wrapped his shoulders and it was the cost. He thought nothing of it. For decades, he was an avid voucher for the Games, and in turn, the Capitol, even doing outside work for them.

Certainly, it didn’t phase him, until Teal. The little girl he crafted by hand. Brutal, spiteful. He straightened her back, taught her to manipulate, to run, to bleed and make others bleed. He breathed his cruelty into her. 

It wasn’t until she came back, and his cruelty stared back at him. For the first time, he was overpowered. The night he had made a passing joke about the president, he had come home to find her sitting on his couch. She’d found months worth of confidential work in a matter of hours. She knew Slate couldn’t be threatened with violence, but could be with power. Effectively, this child was stronger than him.

After the jealousy and pride settled, all Slate was left with was horror.

The foundation of his entire life has begun to crack. What has he been doing this whole time? Has he bred monsters? Were there more of his victors who were just more quietly vicious like Teal? He now sees every move she takes, every act of abuse inflicted. At this point, he’s starting to see that Teal is his punishment. 

The idea of yet another year, especially a quell, staring down the barrel of a gun of his own creation, is starting to actually make him sick.

DISCLAIMER: Please not that my aim with Slate is trying to write a character who was groomed and abused, and lead to believe that that was just how life was. While Slate was raised a Capitol sympathizes and patriot, my aim is not to write one. He is on the path of realizing rebellion is needed, but he is in the very early stages. If I ever write something for Slate that makes you uncomfortable, please please let me know. I am going to write this character carefully and with attention so as not to write a sympathetic demon. I also encourage in-character conflict that will bring up things Slate has done that have perpetuated the Capitols reign in hopes to cause more growth. He might not like it, but I will.

[the-flightless-dove]

To Depose a Tyrant

It was late when Aylin rode into the courtyard of Dovewood Manor. Traveling from Stormwind was a bit of a gallop, and the groom that moved to take control of her mount murmured a soft greeting to Aylin. 

“Good evening, Alaster. Please make sure that Trigger is given a proper rub down, and walk until he is cooled down. I’m afraid I may have pushed him a little too hard, but it was already after dark when I departed Stormwind. And give him an extra beet feed. He did well.” 

“Yes, m’lady. I’ll see it done,” Alaster replied, patting Trigger’s neck before leading him away. 

Aylin watched the groom head for the stables. She wrapped the thick riding cloak further around herself before heading towards the manor. 

“You may as well show yourself, Derrek. I know you are there,” Aylin spoke candidly as her footsteps fell on the gravel below. Her boots weren’t the only steps she heard, and she couldn’t suppress the soft smile that came to fruition as a result. “The gravel gives you away.” 

“You mustn’t be so careless, m’lady. You should’ve stayed in Stormwind until first light,” Derrek answered, the shadows sloughing from off his shoulders as he fell into step alongside her.  “You were safer there than you are in Dovewood.”

“No,” Aylin casually countered. “I refuse to be kept from my home because Lucius thinks he can take over Embris while I’m not looking. Have you seen anything from him since we last encountered him when he interrupted the tea with Lady Harlowe?” 

“No, I don’t bel—” 

“Lady Gregory!” The butler she had grown up with moved out from the manor house, striding towards her with haste. “M’lady.” “Carson?” Aylin joined him, watching as Derrek melded into the shadows once more from the corner of her eye. “What is it?” 

“M’lady— Your uncle awaits you in the drawing room. He is...” Carson steepled his fingers together. “Most anxious to speak with you. I’ve told him that you hadn’t arrived back from Stormwind, and we weren’t sure when you would arrive, if at all. But I’m afraid he’s insisted.” 

“I’ll deal with him, Carson. And thank you.” Aylin placed a hand on the worried Carson’s arm before slipping past him. Aylin continued to the house at the same pace she held with Derrek. 

As she reached the front door, she pushed the door in. 

Moving through the foyer, she unclasped her cloak which revealed her riding outfit. The heels of her boots clicked on the stone below her as she headed towards the room that held her lord uncle, and, when she reached the door, Aylin drew to a stop.

The breath that she didn’t realize she had been holding finally escaped her lungs. Green eyes stared at the dark stain on the wood door, hand waiting on the handle, before she finally elected to enter the room. 

“Uncle. I heard you wished to see me. I’ve only just arrived from Stormwind.” Aylin spoke evenly, meeting her uncle’s gaze straight on. 

“I know where you’ve been, and whom you’ve been meeting with,” Lucius spat at her. Even from across the room, Aylin could tell he had lost himself to libations again.

She continued to meet his gaze, unyielding as her head tilted slightly. 

“Well, what can I do for you then, Lucius? I’ve had a long ride home, and I’m rather disgusting from mud and swe—” The tumbler shattering against the floor gave her pause, causing the woman’s words to falter on her tongue.

“Damn it, Aylin! After all I have done for you!” Lucius stormed around the sofa he stood in front of to come face-to-face with Aylin, taking her chin firmly in hand.  Aylin remained still, not moving or fighting away from his grip. 

His breath was rife with the putrid stench of the alcohol that flowed through his veins, and it caused her stomach to roil as Aylin fought to not retch before the man.

“... I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t find out about my own family, Lucius. How you sent them out and murdered them, one by one. Even your own sister,” Aylin growled, voice low and thick with malice. “You were foolish to think I wouldn’t find out. One day, eventually.” 

The truth hung like a death sentence in the air between them, igniting a storm within his eyes. It earned a slow grin, one that parted to usher forth a quiet, hollow chuckle. “The littlest dove finally figured it out.” Lucius raised his hand, his knuckles cracking against the skin of her cheek. “Tell me, my little dove. What finally gave me away?” Lucius stood over her like a starving dog being teased with meat.

“Does it matter? I overheard you plotting.” That earned her a kick to her stomach, which caused her to wheeze out a breath. Her eyes went blurry, welling with tears she willed away. “I heard you talking about how Embris would be fully yours if you could just get rid of me. But you needed a plan. It couldn’t look suspicious.” Another kick. Another harrowing gasp for breath. “Such a clever little dove,” Lucius purred, bending down to grab her by the fist full of hair. “And now we will. I’ll set the manor ablaze. They’ll think you died in your sleep, your lungs covered in smoke. And who would ever think otherwise, hm? They’ve all fallen victim to my praise.” 

Aylin fought against him as he drug her towards the fire. 

“No!” Aylin choked out, struggling away from him finally. “You don’t get to do that to me too!” She rushed to the door, determined to get away from the traitor in the room. “I’m riding to Stormwind to tell them what you’ve done.” 

“No you don’t, little dove,” Lucius snarled, snatching her wrist to spin the woman around. He pinned her against the wall, forcing her to face him as his index and thumb again collected her chin, jerking it skywards so she could bear witness to her would-be killer. “You don’t get to dictate this now. I do. And I am in con-trol.” 

It took all of her strength, all of her courage, all of her vengeance to grab the knife that mirrored one of Lucius’ own. She stole it from the band of her pants and let adrenaline do the rest, holding it horizontally and driving the blade through his ribs while the serrated edge tore through the cartilage. 

She pulled it out, and pushed back in. Again. And again. And again.

Tears sprung forth as she watched realization wash across his sweat-slicked features.

Tears for her family. 

Tears for the uncle she had onced loved. 

Tears for the man she thought she knew who dropped to the floor like a used toy cast aside.

It was done. 

Aylin sobbed openly, staring down as the blood on her hands dripped from the knife to the body at her feet.

“M’lady?!” A feminine voice called out, the door flying open as another entered the room. “M’lady!” It was Anna, her most favorite maid and confidant. 

“Anna. He— H-he attacked. He was out of his mind. I-I-I t-tried to leave an-and h-he grabbed me. He was going to kill me!” Aylin cried to Anna. “I was just trying t-to protect myself… I didn’t m-m-mean to kill him Anna!” 

“It’s alright, my lady, it’s alright.” Anna was gentle, leading Aylin away from her uncle’s corpse. “Just… Just stand here, and let me fetch you something to wipe your hands, my lady.” Anna moved from the room quickly. 

Aylin crossed the threshold of the drawing room, turning her back on the traitor still bleeding out behind her. She headed to the front door, swiftly collecting her riding cloak before escaping out into the yard, her feet moving of their own volition to close the distance to the stables. All of the grooms had retired for the evening, leaving the woman to her own devices.

That was a good thing. A lucky thing.

Aylin collected the tack from the tack room, and began tacking up in the dim light from the torch attached to the wall nearby. The blood on her hands made things slick, but finally the horse was bridled and saddled. She moved to the mounting block and with a tiny hop, swung up and over the horse. A click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth urged the steed to the barn door, and a harsh kick spurred Trigger into a steady gallop. “AYLIN! AYLIN!” She could hear Derrek yell after her. 

But she had a long ride, and no time for answers. 

She was riding to Kestramere, to Lady Harlowe, to freedom.

{ Mentions: @annaliseharlowe​ }