#but for some people this knowledge did not temper the blow

[anotherdescentintomadness]

Xiao Zhan x Cutting Away 3000 Strands of Worry

[marvelmymarvel]

Heir

Silva x Reader

Synopsis: His wife was crazy, hell, you'd be crazy too if you knew your husband was sleeping around... But it wasn't your fault he loved you and not her.

Her shrill cry hit your ears, making you wince from your spot next to Silva. He currently had you wrapped up under his arm, hand absentmindedly caressing the bare skin of your arm. "Kikyo" he warned, eyes darkening a bit as she continue to wail about how evil he was for having a mistress.

This wasn't new knowledge, she had known about it for some time now. This was just her weekly temper tantrum. "I just don't understand how you could do this to me. The woman who gave you your CHILDREN"

Silva's lip curled into a snarl, there was that jab again... The classic 'mother of your children' saying was always the stab she took in the hopes that it would wake him up, but it only ever angered him. Your eyebrows crinkled in distress as you felt the bloodlust oozing from the man who was now gripping you tightly against him. You couldn't run and hide from his anger if you tried. You were just thankful it wasn't directed at you.

"Kikyo."

The woman stopped wailing as the venomous tone and bloodlust hit her finally. You could see her hands shaking, and you felt bad. Not bad enough to stop the relationship you had with the head of the Zoldyck family, but enough to put your hand on his thigh, hoping it would calm him even a little.

And it seemed to work.

He let out a deep exhale, free hand coming up to rub at his eyes. If he could leave her he would, he would much rather be married to you than to her, but he hadn't met you when he needed to settle down some 26 years ago. "I've been nothing but loving towards you, what does she have that I don't?"

You lightly gasped at the question, eyes flicking from Kikyo to Silva in shock. He sat there in silence, staring into her soul as if trying to banish her from the earth altogether. "She was the one who gave me Killua" your eyes widened at his statement. Many things were well-known and talked about, but this was not one of them.

You cringed as Kikyo's sniffles hit your ears. Having Killua with Silva was not something you were proud of, the guilt ate you up to the point where you gave him up to Kikyo, allowing her to care for him as if she carried and birthed him herself. It seemed to have appeased her, and she went on to have two more children with Silva after. But you knew the reason for that was just her trying to prove that she too could give Silva what you did.

An heir.

It was a low blow though, and it made all of the guilt rush through you like a violent hurricane. "Silva..." you whispered out, tone teetering on guilt and warning. He paid no mind to you though. Standing from his spot, he walked towards a sobbing Kikyo. His hands rose to cup her cheeks and while you'd normally feel jealous, all you felt was shame.

You should have never slept with him 12 years ago. Should have never given in to his blue eyes and blonde hair, but you did and now you were here. Stuck in the middle of the family drama that you yourself caused.

He leaned down to be eye level with her, a passerby would have found it sweet, but you knew better. "You mean nothing to me. The children you've given mean nothing to me. I don't know what else I need to do to get you to see that"

That was a lie, the children part at least was. He cared deeply for all of his children, Killua was just special to him. You knew that the hurtful words were only spewed to bite back at her stab but you wished he would have let it go. "Silva" you called out as you shakily stood from the pillow.

Kikyo was now sobbing so hard that she was choking, the sound didn't do anything to Silva, but it was breaking your heart. "Silva leave her alone..." you whispered out as your fingers ghosted his arm before gripping the flesh to pull him away from her. He let you move him away from her, something Kikyo has never been able to do.

The sight only made her sob harder. How could you, of all people, make the man she loved do anything you asked of him? She gave him everything and loved him through everything. But you? You did nothing and yet can control everything about him. Before he goes on jobs, he asks you about your opinion on the danger of the task at hand. When he leaves the house, he asks you if you'd like to join him. When it's time for bed, he'll wait for you because he can't seem to sleep without you.

Her eyes snapped to yours as you looked back at her over your shoulder. "Can you please go get Gotoh" you called out to the butler by the door. The butler left without another word, rushing down the hall to get the head butler who helped Kikyo remain calm. Silva sat back down with a huff, legs crossing as he leaned back in annoyance. You turned back fully to Kikyo, sadness and regret written all over your face.

"I'm sorry Kikyo" you stated firmly, but anyone who knew you could hear the nervous waver in your voice. Despite being annoying, Kikyo was far from weak. She could kill you in two seconds if she really wanted to.

And she really wanted to right now.

But you didn't care anymore. Walking towards her slowly, you waited for her to break down again. But she was silent. You stopped just feet from her, lips pursing as you took in just how tense the air was. Silva called your name out in warning as if he knew deep down that she would attack you while he wasn't by your side.

But maybe you deserved it.

"I'm sorry for everything" your words caused her to inhale sharply, hands forming into fists as she shook in her place. You had no right to apologize. The only way to make this right was for you to leave. But Silva would never let you leave. So there was only one other way to make this right.

You had to die.

Silva felt the shift in the air quicker than you did. Kikyo's hand shot towards your chest, fingers shaped into a sharp form. Your breath hitched but you knew there was no escaping it. You should have been faster...

But Silva was fast enough.

His hand stopped hers right as the fingernails pierced the skin of your chest. She could feel the way your heart was beating frantically under her fingertips. Oh, how she wanted to feel it pound in her hand as she watched the life drain from your eyes. But, with the way Silva was gripping her did she realize she had made a grave mistake.

Silva pushed you behind him as he ripped Kikyo up to him angrily "Lay a hand on her again and I will feed you to the dogs" the words hit your ears, and you would have scolded him for uttering them, but you couldn't think straight - not with all the adrenaline in your veins and the tension in the air.

Kikyo sputtered out apologies but it only angered the silver haired man more.

It all went silent though when the door opened. "Madame. I was called to retrieve you" Gotohs voice broke the tension and you sighed in relief. Silva let her go, allowing her to run to Gotoh in fear. Gotoh didn't say anything, only grabbed her by the shoulder and moved her out of the room.

The sound of the door closing echoed in the room and mixed with your heavy breathing. Silva was in front of you before you could blink, hand reaching for your shirt where blood was pooling. "I'll be okay" you croaked out but he ripped the shirt open regardless, eyes narrowing at the cuts Kikyo marred you with.

"She will be dealt with accordingly" he whispered as he applied pressure to one of the heavier bleeding wounds. You didn't say anything, knowing that not even you could stop what would happen to her. He loved you a lot, maybe even too much. But you couldn't deny that you loved him as well. You reached up to pull his hand away, smiling softly at the confused look on his face.

Dropping his hand, you stepped forward before wrapping your arms around his torso, hiding your face in his chest as you gave into the part of you that needed him close. You didn't care if you were hurt. You didn't care that Kikyo would try to kill you every chance she got. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was him. And as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head -

You knew he felt the same.

[black-is-beautiful18]

The Unexpected- The Proposal

K’uk’ulkan x Black!reader

A/N: This has been sitting in my docs for awhile now and I felt inspired so I finally finished it lol. I also used a translator for Yucatec Maya, so if it’s not all correct that’s why. Enjoy! ❤️

—————————————————

“I don’t get it. Why do I have to go?” Y/N demands even though it sounds more like a whine.

Shuri laughs and rolls her eyes playfully.

“We’ve been over this already. I have my own duties that conflict with my usual schedule. So today I need you to meet with him.” The princess explains as she busies herself with one of her latest projects.

“But I’m not a princess or a diplomat. You told me he has a temper. What if he gets upset that it’s me there and not you?”

Y/N leans against the table as Shuri looks up at her giving her an exasperated yet amused look. “You may not be a diplomat but you are sweet and that smile of yours is enough to put even the toughest of warriors at ease. Plus, you have something in common with the king. You’ll be able to relate in some way. Just take it from there.”

Groaning, Y/N puts her head in her hands.

“Fine. I’ll meet this fishman, but I don’t even know what to say to him.”

Shuri smiles. “You’ll do just fine. Use that brain of yours. Draw him in with your knowledge of Wakanda.”

Y/N rolls her eyes.

“As if he’d listen to me go on about our history when I’m sure he just wants to make sure you haven’t gone back on your word.”

Shrugging, Shuri looks down at her project which appears to have something to do with adjustments to her suit.” I’m not, but sending someone in my place is far better than no one showing up. Then we’ll have another problem on our hands.”

“Fine. I’ll go, but you owe me. This is not my thing.” Y/N huffs as she turns to leave.

“Thank you!”

“Yeah yeah!”

————————

Waves lap at the bank of the river as Y/N paces restlessly. She was nervous. So nervous that she’d nearly been late, which is very unlike her. If it weren’t for Aneka it’s safe to say that she’d still be tearing apart her closet right now. Wearing a sleeveless teal sundress, gold bangles, matching necklace, and a pair of sandals the Dora accompanying her assured her that she looked perfect. Her braids were up in a ponytail. The gems she’d carefully placed there this morning glimmering in the sunlight. Now all she had to do was not blow an alliance with a dangerous underwater kingdom ruled by a king who’s people worshiped him as a god…No pressure.

According to Shuri, now that the alliance was in place the king had…calmed down a bit. However, she warned Y/N to be on her guard since she would be a new face.

“Y/N please. If you pace anymore I think I will be sick.” A voice complains.

Offering a sheepish smile Y/N turns to Aneka and Nia who were with her today. Nia was new but good at her job, so that’s why she’d been given the task to come along. It’d be a good experience and Aneka trusted her.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’ve noticed.” Nia responds, giving her a soft smile in return.

“Shuri would not have asked you to do this if she thought you couldn’t do it. Take a deep breath and relax before you turn the sand to glass.”

Y/N glares at Aneka who shrugs. As she’s about to respond she sees movement out the corner of her eye. She’d pass it off as just a trick of the light or the fact that they are near water if it weren’t for the three presences she felt beneath the surface. They were steadily moving closer to the shore. Where did they come from? Usually she can sense things miles out or even leagues below the surface. How had she not noticed?

“We’ve got company.” Y/N mutters turning to the water.

She puts her shoulders back and quickly rehearses a greeting in her head only for her brain to short circuit as a man, flanked by two Talokanil, steps out of the water. Now don’t get Y/N wrong. She’d seen glimpses of the strange man when he and his people flooded Wakanda. Shuri had even told her of her time in the city of Talokan and described him in hopes that Y/N would be familiar with such descriptions. She was not. If she’d seen a man this handsome before…well she’d definitely remember him.

Water drips down his body and Y/N mentally yells at herself to stay focused. His friends really aren’t helping though. With their blue skin they’re both just as beautiful. However, their king is stunning. His winged feet only seemed to add to the strange allure he has about him. The way his jewelry shines in the sun and against his brown skin…Even with that intimidating spear in his hand Y/N is in awe.

Feeling a gentle nudge in her back Y/N nearly has a heart attack, but quickly covers it up with a smile as she steps forward.

“Hello. I am Y/N,” She dips in a graceful bow. “The princess sends her regards for she wasn’t able to make it today.”

The Talokanil behind the king exchange glances that don’t go unnoticed by Y/N. She feels butterflies dancing around in her stomach but works through them.

“I assure you everything is as it should be. Shuri simply had other duties to attend to.”

The king raises an eyebrow. “More important than our alliance?”

Y/N’s heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice. While his tone is inquisitive it also has a hint of playfulness to it. Well that’s good, right?

Y/N chuckles.

“To bear the role of the Black Panther means to always expect the unexpected. You never know when you will be called away. Surely you can understand that K’uk’ulkan.”

At the mention of his name, the king of Talokan seems to swell with what can only be described as pride. His eyes rake over Y/N taking her in before giving a charming smile that nearly makes her swoon.

“Well if that’s the case will you walk with me?”

Not expecting that response, Y/N’s jaw drops.” Um…”

She looks back at Aneka and Nia who give each other curious looks before Aneka nods encouraging her to accept. Turning back to him she notices that his companions seem to also be trying to figure just exactly what their king has in mind. However, seeing him embed his spear in the sand seals her resolve.

“I will.”

—————————

“So you are a friend of the princess?”

I chuckle glancing over at him.

“We’ve known each other since we were children. Though while I was learning the history of our great country and it’s spiritual aspects she took interest in the sciences and technology. Now look at her. The overseer of all our technology and an even more brilliant inventor.”

I pause and turn to him.

“Though I’m sure you know that already.”

He stops as well, a charming smile forming on his lips.” The princess has a brilliant mind, but I’m more interested in you.”

“Me? What could I possibly offer you?” With a furrowed brow and hands on my hips, I find myself to actually be interested in what he might say. The king obviously doesn’t know me, but he certainly acts as if he knows something.

The king glances back to where his own guards and the Dora stand further down the river. They’re a good distance away but still close enough should anything happen. Bast forbid that. Both groups stand rather awkwardly but they are determined to do their duty. He steps closer and a panic builds in my chest. With him this close to me I can smell the ocean. It’s always been one of my favorite smells but this makes me want to embrace him just so that I can take in more of it.

I notice the amusement in his eyes mixed with something else that I can’t quite place, and take a step back. He only follows me and I feel as if I’ve entered a game of cat and mouse. He is obviously the cat and I, unfortunately, am the mouse.

“K’uk’ulkan?”

I don’t mean to sound so uncertain or small but how can I possibly function with him so close?

His eyes roam over me for a moment before meeting my eyes once more. Leaning down, he takes on such an intimidating aura that I have to fight not to look away from him.

“I saw you that day.” His voice is low even though we aren’t that close to our companions. What he has to say is for my ears only.

“You move faster in water than any surface dweller I have seen. Stronger too.”

My eyes widen and he tilts his head to the side with a knowing smirk. At that point I do look away, setting my gaze on the water.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was ushered away just like most of my people.”

A click of his tongue and a low growl sends a chill down my spine.

“Mentiroso.”

My eyes shoot back to his and I stare at him defiantly. I don’t need my kimoyo beads to tell me that this man, this god, just called me a liar….and he’s right.

”I am not. You were seeing things.”

Even as I say it I see images in my mind of me diving into the river to rescue those who had been swept up by the waves or pulled into the water by Talokanil soldiers. K’uk’ulkan says nothing and I purse my lips keeping my facial expressions neutral. He begins to circle me slowly. Assessing me.

“…What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just find it…interesting. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone like you. Does your princess know?” He’s stopped behind me now but I refuse to face him.

“We grew up together and some things are hard to hide when you are so close.” What is he getting at?

K’uk’ulkan hums softly and walks back around me so that we are facing each other once more. His eyes are full of mirth and even mischief. Nervously I begin to fidget, twisting one of the rings on my right hand.

“I have a request.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m listening….”

Reaching down he gently takes my hand into his and lifts it to his lips. His hands have the roughness of a warriors but his lips are soft. Bast.

“Allow me to court you.”

It’s not a question.

“E-excuse me?” I mean to sound demanding. Make it sound as if he’s insane, but it all comes out in a surprised squeak.

My hand is still against his lips as he chuckles. It tickles a little.

“It is rather…traditional, but it would put many minds at ease if this alliance had more to hold it together. The elders have also been pestering me about giving my people their own queen mother and producing an heir.” He says it so casually that I’m left speechless.

I snatch my hand away from him and take a step back.

“I don’t even know you, and you are the reason Queen Mother is dead.” I hiss. The very mention of Ramonda sends a sharp pain through my chest. She treated me as if I were one of her own children. Losing her was devastating.

Stepping closer he takes my hand once more, holding it firmly so that I can’t pull away this time. “You and I both know that there are doubts on both sides. Would not such a moment ease their fears and allow us to move forward? To build trust?”

This man is crazy!

Preparing to pull away I freeze. He has a point. There are more Dora and soldiers patrolling the rivers. There have been whispers of evacuation plans in case another attack happens. I’ve sat in on the meetings of King M’Baku and the council. The elders are fearful that the Talokanil will go back on their promise of peace as soon as the first disagreement occurs. That this king who is worshiped as a god will want more….My heart speeds up as I go through the options. There aren’t many but I understand. I relax and look him in the eye.

“Give me time to think about this. Shuri…Shuri won’t be happy, and the elders will demand to know exactly why it is that you’ve chosen me. If I agree, you are asking me to expose myself. To also give myself to someone I don’t know.”

“I know this. That is why I will give you a week to consider and get things settled. Take this and call for me when the time comes. I will answer.” He pulls a conch shell from his waist and offers it to me. Gingerly, I take it looking at it curiously. When did he get this? Had I been so distracted that I didn’t notice it?

“I will call. I promise.”

A tender kiss is placed on my wrist this time and I almost swoon.

“I know you will…In Eek'e'.”

My star…

Before I can even react he kisses my hand and pulls away. He calls something to his guards but I’m too dazed to listen to the translation.

“Shall we?” The king of Talokan holds out his arm allowing me to take it. We walk back down along the bank of the river, the shell tucked safely in my free arm. I feel my face heating up as Aneka and Nia give me questioning looks as we approach. I am saved only when K’uk’ulkan turns to me, capturing my attention. “We will leave you here. Don’t forget what we have discussed.” Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I nod.” Of course. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

I’m met with a scoff but I see the amusement in the god-king’s eyes. He nods and promptly turns around stepping back into the river with the two Talokanil soldiers following close behind. I watch their heads soon disappear beneath the water and I sigh wishing for at least another kiss on my hand or wrist.

“What was that about?” Nia’s light voice fills the air startling me out of my thoughts. That’s when everything comes crashing down and realization hits. With a groan I facepalm getting strange looks from the two women accompanying me once again. I offer them only one answer.

“I am in so much trouble.”

————————————————

@stars8melanin @prettyvintageafternoon

[cowboymater]

controversial opinion maybe:

I KNOW. i know. hear me out

i saw a couple edits on tiktok of mcspirk to soldier poet king and like. i’m not putting anyone on blast but good lord some of those choices made my head hurt. it’s taken me a couple days to synthesize my reasoning for the superior choice (as pictured above), but here goes:

the problem with assigning characters to soldier poet king comes when you take it at face value, flattening the paradigm to angry-sad-tired or violent-artsy-authoritative. if we want to get down to the root of it, the song is based on the threefold office of christ as priest (soldier), prophet (poet), and king. like i’m not christian, but on a textual level it gives us context: the concept that as prophet jesus gave us counsel and words of wisdom, as priest he sacrificed himself to redeem us, and as king he provides for, defends, and forgives us

maybe the most famous priest/prophet/king (& thus soldier/poet/king) allegory in all of literature is frodo, gandalf, and aragorn. frodo bears the burden, though he wishes he did not need to; gandalf offers words of wisdom and mercy; aragorn is a born leader, on the front lines with sword in hand, ready to die with his men if he must

KING: capt. james t. kirk is the easiest one to place. it is a burden and a privilege, an honor and a horror to have the lives of so many depend upon you to make the right call under fire. he makes the call. he leads the landing parties, he puts himself at the head of the charge because by god he is not about to send his men into a battle he wouldn’t fight himself. he leads—with heart when he can, steel when he must—and people follow him. bones and spock are always right behind because they believe in what he believes in, and more than that they believe in him

POET: bones serves as kirk’s emotional sounding board, his moral peer review. he lends an ear, and the word of an old country doctor who’s seen much and understands more. man has ascended to the heavens, to hurtling through the void in a glorified tin can, and it would be no great hardship to forget that our place in the universe is not that of higher life—we are not as quasi-gods, moving pieces on the great three-dimensional chessboard, but flesh and blood, and we must attend to each other. bones tempers the pure logos and rationality offered by spock; he offers grounding in this age of technology that wrinkles the fabric of reality, offers the kind of emotional intellect that cannot be taught, and has always been sorely needed

SOLDIER: this is the one where you really get tripped up by surface-level analysis. yes, spock is reserved and collected. yes, vulcans are pacifists (as you may recall, so are hobbits, and yet frodo remains the soldier in allegory)

the thing about vulcans, though, is that despite the vegan pacifism, they are warriors. it’s tangled up in their history and their DNA. the koon-ut-kal-if-fee survived through centuries of analytical dogma for a reason; even now, they cannot wholly escape their inheritance of violence. their forefathers ran the sands of vulcan green with blood. they venerate logic and condemn emotionality so that they will not

your average high-achieving vulcan, probably on the path to kolinahr, commits their lifetime to the pursuit of knowledge at the vulcan science academy. it’s a measured, rational decision. a controlled environment, where there will never be any logical reason to resort to violence

spock joins starfleet

he joins starfleet, and pursues knowledge in the vast unknowable universe. there is reason for violence, frequently. and sure, the purpose of their mission is peaceful. it’s true that spock would rather resolution be reached without force. but a soldier needs not want to be a soldier. he only needs go to war

when it comes down to blows, he will match them. he makes the sacrifice play, jumps on the grenade, goes into the radiation-soaked engineering room alone. it’s only logical, after all

spock is there to pick apart the universe, unravel the threads of logic until it all makes sense. bones is there to stitch it up. kirk is the hand that holds it all steady, the gravitational field that binds the people of the enterprise to their purpose. soldier-poet-king, commander-doctor-captain. it’s a story old as dirt, and we’ll keep telling it, i think

edit: my bad vulcans have. green blood

[hwnglx]

whats ur personal thoughts on bangchans real personality?

(disclaimer: this is not my personal opinion but my insights, sorry i misread your question somehow my brain was crusty)

i haven't read on him for a while, but what i can remember from chan is he's someone with a very strong duality. meaning he can go from being the sweetest, most tolerant guy, to someone very controlling. he's incredibly calculated and good at evaluating situations and picking up on energies. he's someone who exactly knows what he's doing when playing the role of the “everybody's darling”, because he knows that's how he gets people to be on his side. (i feel like chan's room being taken away was a huge blow, just because to an extent, he lost control over the image people have of him) this significant desire to be liked was for sure very apparent in every reading i did for him. however with him being a possible libra stellium, most people would've guessed that. i do think people can sometimes underestimate how intuitive and smart the man is though. very clever when it comes to understanding and handling the energy in a room, but also incredibly knowledgable when it comes to the industry and how it works.

he has this image of being very nice and friendly to everyone, and in general (!) he is. however piss this man off once, ideally by somehow posing a threat to his possessions (first word that came to mind lol i do think he looks at his achievements and responsibilities as "his", including his group), you will see a very different bang chan. this dude can get scary. i can feel some anger issues he still deals with. not as frequent as when he was younger, but he still has his moments where he can lose composure and control over his temper. i can tell that most people in the industry are aware of the more serious and stern side of him. part of the reason as to why many don't really dare to mess with skz.

[rn-zane]

TIMING: current SETTING: some club™ PARTIES: @loftylockjaw + @rn-zane + Leo the shithead fae (Bex) WARNINGS: domestic abuse mention SUMMARY: wyatt and zane make an honest attempt to help felix get out of their deal at the grit pit

At the end of the day, Felix, like Lockjaw and every other fighter who signed a contract, belonged to the Grit Pit.

A couple weeks of tailing this clown and Wyatt was itching to get to business. Whether or not Zane was picking up on his impatience, the lamia had talked him into confronting Leo tonight. They knew his haunts, so they knew where to wait. It wasn’t a long wait, either, the fae entering the club damn near exactly on time. Wyatt clenched his jaw as he locked eyes with Leo, lifting a hand and waving him over to their spot on the bar. They’d met one another in passing, never really sharing a conversation of any kind of substance, but Leo was certainly aware of Wyatt’s status as a Pit fighter. His knowledge of Wyatt’s fondness for Felix was unknown though, as the pair had thus far kept things pretty well on the down low. No reason to go inspiring the head honchos to make them fight one another, which was the most likely outcome of a more public friendship.

His hope here was that they’d be able to offer Leo something he wanted in exchange for the termination of Felix’s contract. But if it really came down to it, the lamia couldn’t promise anyone that he wouldn’t just try to bite the fucker’s head off, even in front of all these people. He wasn’t sure if Zane knew that, probably not, and that was probably a surprise best kept secret until it was time to pull it out. If. If it was time. Hopefully that time wouldn’t come. He did have something of a temper, though…

—

The waiting and surveying part had been fine. Wyatt was decent company and at least just by tailing someone, there was no way they would get Felix into trouble. Tonight, whether due to unrelated impatience or the fact that Zane had a really hard time not filling the silence out on their patrols, they’d left the safety of just watching. Zane had no idea how obvious it was that this was not his scene, surrounded by loud music and drunk people, muttering apologies to anyone who’d bumped into him on the way inside. At least it was public, less risk of a big blowout. 

His stomach lurched as he spotted Leo, smug looking and insufferable, his skin burning with equal parts anger and nerves. A part of him hoped the guy didn’t remember their last meeting, where Zane had seriously considered punching the man’s lights out, but there was no going back now. Besides, Wyatt would be doing most of the talking, a unanimous decision. Zane was bound to ramble out the wrong thing or start attempting to appeal to Leo’s humanity. Whether or not he had one was debatable. 

“Here goes nothing,” he breathed, glancing over at Wyatt looking cool as a cucumber. Zane reminded himself to ease the grip on his bottle of beer, still full but with the label all but peeled off. A prop but one that he was getting more and more tempted to take a sip from the closer Leo got to their table. 

—

It was hard work, doing what he did at the Grit Pit. The word binds were hard enough, but at least they were usually one-time things. You got someone bound once, with the right turn of phrase, and that was really all it took. Most of them were completely unaware until it was too late. That part was a little fun, really. But the wrangling part took a lot more effort than Leo tended to enjoy. After a long night of working his ass off maintaining a bunch of sniveling, dull, idiot fighters, he figured he’d earned a chance to blow off some steam. A little clubbing and bar-hopping was just the dessert he needed after a nice meal of euphoria from the crowd at the Pit, with the added bonus of being a fair bit more relaxing. 

At least, in theory. Not so much in practice when he glanced up to catch sight of one of his fighters beckoning him over. Leo rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat for a moment before relenting and hopping out of it. He might as well see what the fighter wanted, right? It wasn’t the worst case scenario, really; Wyatt wasn’t one of the whiny ones, at least. But the guy with him…

“I know you,” Leo raised his brow as he approached. “You’re the guy I caught with Felix in the boiler room. On to bigger and better things here?” He let his gaze slide lazily over to Wyatt, smirking a little. “Probably a step up. I can’t speak for Lockjaw here, but Fe gets a little tiresome after a while. So needy. It’s a bore.” He let his eyes lock with Wyatt’s, head tilting to the side slightly. “What do you need? I don’t really fraternize after hours, you know. Unless you’re buying me a drink. I can give you a hell of a night, if you’re nice.” He looked back to the other man with a wink. “That goes for the both of you.”

—

Leo's reaction to them wasn't wholly unexpected as far as Wyatt was concerned. Even the casual offer of having a little fun together didn't change his expression, which had settled somewhere between light amusement and genuine interest. He'd gotten pretty good at making people think he cared about what they had to say, even though their words were, more often than not, emptier than his own. In this case, he was doing all he could to mask the flare of indignation in his gut at Leo's less-than-kind comment about Felix. It wouldn't do to show his hand, not yet. So he just smiled through it, allowing Leo to lead, prepared to go along with whatever options he offered up to them that might make him more pliable. If Wyatt himself was that option, so be it. 

“What'll you have, then?” He got the fae's preferred drink and made short work of securing one from the nearby bar, taking Leo with him to keep Zane from blowing their cover by having to spend a few minutes with the fae alone. As they made their way back to the table, Wyatt gestured to the seat beside his own. “Please, take a load off.” Once they were all comfortable, the lamia took a careful dip into the topic at hand: Felix. Brought up by Leo himself, so it was less strange now to return to it. Lucky, that. Lucky that Zane had been caught doing something with them in the… boiler room, was it? “Must be frustrating havin’ someone like that under your jurisdiction,” he remarked casually, resisting the urge to glance at Zane and silently signal for him to be chill. “Felix, I mean. My own handler, well… let's just say she's quite pleased with my performance.” He smirked, as if to indicate that he wasn't morally opposed to sleeping with the people who held his life in their hands. It might gain him a little more trust in this situation. “And it's not like I want to leave… hell, I don't know what else I'd do with myself if not for this.” He paused, letting that marinate for a moment. “Been tryin’ to convince my friend here of the merits of the job.” Wyatt did look at Zane now, wearing a confident smile. If Leo knew Zane, if he knew that the vampire and Felix were… something like friends, then his presence needed to be padded. Lies needed to help make this encounter an easier pill to swallow. If Leo suspected them too soon, then they'd be blowing their one chance of schmoozing Felix out of their deal. 

—

This was a bad idea. Wyatt should have done this on his own because there was no way Zane could keep his cool throughout this whole evening, that much became evident the second the smarmy bastard opened his mouth. Fingernails dug deep into his palm and he huffed out something that maybe could have been construed as a sound of amusement. Tense as it was, Zane did manage the smallest of smiles, even as his blood ran cold at what Leo was suggesting. Maybe some acting classes should be his next priority. Since showing any interest in the offer was off the table, even in a fake way, Zane honestly muttered out a “you’re not my type.” Wyatt could take care of the charming part of this evening. 

The second Wyatt led the fae away, Zane deflated, focusing on the angry crescent marks in his palm to gather his thoughts. He dug desperately around for the manufactured sense of calm he could conjure up at work, treating people like Leo, drunk drivers or any other sort of scum of the earth. Tried to remember why playing nice was so important. Even though remembering Felix’s face that night at The Grit Pit spurred more anger, it was of the righteous kind, the kind that inspired focus and determination. So by the time the two men returned back to the table, Zane’s teeth were no longer under threat from breaking by the tension in his jaw. 

And Wyatt was good. If he didn’t know any better, Zane would have truly believed the disdain for Felix painted with those words. Zane’s focus stayed on Wyatt as he spoke, safer than risking another suggestive look from the fae that would all but break his current focus. Nodding along as he was dragged back into the conversation, Zane shrugged, fingers itching with the need to peel more of the beer bottle’s label so he took a disgusting drink from it instead. “Wyatt can be very insistent,” he explained, quirking one eyebrow at the man in question. As if this was a friendly discussion they’d had from time to time, amusing but annoying. “Told me Felix liked to exaggerate, that their explanation of how the place actually works is a bit… dramatic.” Zane steeled himself before he continued, the lie not as effortless as Wyatt’s but hopefully convincing all the same. “They did seem a bit… neurotic.”

He forced down another drink of the beer, the taste preferable to the lingering disgust of those words. 

—

While Lockjaw seemed comfortable enough with the situation, his companion was clearly uneasy. Leo zeroed in on the discomfort, tilting his head and raising his brows as the man — Zane, wasn’t it? — claimed that Leo wasn’t his type. “Mmmm, you prefer the bumbling idiot type? Explains why you were getting so cozy with Fe, at least.” There was an uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought of Felix genuinely moving on with someone new. Not jealousy, not exactly. It was more of a… possessive thing. Leo didn’t like to see someone new playing with his toys, even when he was finished with them.

But it wouldn’t last, anyway. He reminded himself of that. At the end of the day, Felix, like Lockjaw and every other fighter who signed a contract, belonged to the Grit Pit. So, Leo let Lockjaw buy him a drink. He ordered something expensive and top shelf, just to push the boundaries a little. He smiled as the lamia spoke, shrugging a shoulder. “Honestly, between you and me? I like it more when they’re not happy with it. Knowing they don’t want to be there and can’t go… It adds a new layer of fun to it all. And Felix…” Leo trailed off, clicking his tongue. “All the shit I put up with when we were an item? I deserve a little extra fun for all that.” 

His eyes slid over to Zane at the implication that he, too, might be interested in joining the Pit. Now there was an idea. The concept of having Felix go up against someone they liked enough to risk talking to in the back halls of the Pit was an enjoyable one, and Leo’s eyes danced with quiet excitement. “Yeah, well, Fe likes to whine. Always has, really. Part of what made it so hard to put up with them.” His mouth twisted into a smile with a few too many teeth as Zane went on, calling Felix neurotic. Leo barked out a laugh. He’d tell Felix all about it later, he thought; recount the conversation back to them, make sure they knew it was true. It was fun to add some variety to the ways in which he fucked with the guy, at least. “You’ve got that right. Try living with them. They’re lucky all I did at the end of it was sign them up at the Pit. I mean, I could’ve done worse, you know? And this way, they get paid. It’s not like they had any other career prospects. No high school diploma, no social skills… They’d be living in a tent if I didn’t have their back, you know? They bitch about it, but I really did do them a favor.”

—

Good cop, bad cop. As planned, or at least as close to a plan as they could muster. Though interestingly, from the eyes of Leo, Zane was likely the bad cop in this scenario. Unhappy with the way the Pit was run, making friends with the discontented fighters, denying the faun’s advances… Wyatt, on the other hand? Wyatt would say anything to gain favor, here. Because with favor came trust, and with trust came the opportunity to make a person more receptive to your requests. Let Felix out of his contract, the lamia thought, take this other nameless fighter instead. There’s less baggage, and they’re a bastard already, so no one is going to take pity on them and try to stage a coup on their behalf. It was something of a threat, when you got down to it. But, given time, hopefully it would prove fruitful. 

So Wyatt laughed and nodded, giving the handler a shrug of his broad shoulders. “True, true… I can understand that. I like fightin’ the ones that don’t wanna be there more than the rest, because they fight more desperately, you know? They know what’s comin’ and they’re afraid of it. Feels like huntin’, in a way. But you’re right, Felix owes you a lot. They wouldn’t fare well bein’ homeless, that much is certain. Me, I got the luxury of doin’ this for pleasure, but…” He gave it a good, long, overstated think, smiling all the while. “I know there’s those fellas that go out n’ capture the beasties, but what of the bonafide fighters, like me? I got a keen eye for folks like Felix… folks that can fight, but don’t want to.” He glanced now at Zane, and his intentions were suddenly made quite clear. False that they were, this was part of the plan. “I could bring ‘em to you, if you like. Offer you up some more of that dynamic you got such a sweet taste for.”

—

Biting back a retort that his type was pretty much anything except sociopathic sadists was hard, so Zane settled for a roll of his eyes and another drink. Better to say too little than too much. His skin was crawling, squirming, underneath that slimy gaze, the callous words. It didn’t much matter whether Leo was sizing him up as a possible fighter, to fight him himself or for other reasons, Zane was having a hard time sitting still - desperately quieting the scratching in the back of his mind that hinted at just how nice Leo’s blood would taste, how much the fae deserved it. On the bright side, aggressively shoving back those thoughts was a good distraction from the disgusting tirade about Felix. 

Wyatt, to his credit, continued to be completely unphased. It was convincing, almost too much so, how he spoke about his fights. Zane pushed those thoughts away along with the rest, grasping desperately at the bigger picture. He was here to help. That smooth gaze turned to him and Zane leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. They were finally getting somewhere other than simply trash talking Felix. Plus, this new setting that Wyatt was proposing (a heads up would have been appreciated, though) did provide a decent cover for Zane’s barely concealed grim mood. Even if it all felt just a bit too real. 

“And here I thought you just really wanted to buy me a drink,” Zane muttered, settling into this new role, impatiently waiting for Wyatt to string the bait. Praying that Leo would take it. 

—

Leo’s smile could hardly be described as anything short of predatory. His eyes looked Zane over like someone appraising a dog for a fight — an apt metaphor, considering the way the faun tended to think of the fighters under his ‘care.’ The guy looked tough enough. Good muscles, probably knew his way around a punch. But Leo had been in this game long enough to know that there was always a catch. Even someone like Lockjaw, who was happy to ask how high any time someone told him to jump, wouldn’t give something for nothing.

Leaning back in his seat, Leo took a long, thoughtful swig from his drink. “And what’s in it for you?” He questioned, looking back to Lockjaw with the slightest tilt to his head. “You want to make a trade? I get the fighters you bring in, you get… someone else released from their contract? I know you don’t want out of yours.” That was how the Pit tended to work. For most fighters, Leo would have done it without question. But… given the nature of the conversation, he had a feeling he could guess who Lockjaw wanted to spring. And there was no part of Leo that wanted to see Felix walk away free. It would feel like such a waste. He’d put years of effort into that useless cat. He had no desire to see them win. He’d sooner see them put down. 

“I’m not sure this is something that would benefit the both of us,” he hummed. “Especially not if I don’t understand why you want it. I know you’re not sleeping with them. They don’t put out enough to be worth this kind of effort.” 

—

Oh, how his hopes had soared for those few seconds that Leo talked himself through his understanding of the situation at hand. Yes, yes, it’d gone perfectly, and—no. He was saying that it wasn’t enough. Asking questions that Wyatt didn’t want to give the answers to. It pissed him off that he’d come so close to having this fucking thing resolved, only to watch Leo tug the fishing line and reel the bait back. He felt his patience run out. Irritation sparked and bloomed into a burning flame of anger, and the indulgent smile dropped from his face. 

“I wanted to be nice about it,” he said, shaking his head. “I wanted to make you feel good, wanted to keep from havin’ to say anythin’ that might upset you.” He paused, picking up his drink to take another long sip of it. “But the truth of the matter is, that wet cat is pathetic.” His gaze had hardened, brows furrowing as a general look of distaste arranged itself on his features. “And puttin’ somethin’ like that in the ring… I don’t got my panties in a bunch over the morality of it, Leo. But it’s a bad look. The people that come to the Pit don’t want to see their favorite fighters gettin’ all fuckin’ weepy before and after every scrap. And in case you ain’t noticed, since you got so many other better things to be doin’, Felix cries more than a spoiled brat givin’ her toys away to charity. That might do it for you, but it don’t do it for the rest of us. We’re sick of it. There’s the one-shot fighters that don’t wanna be there, that panic and fight tooth n’ nail… and then there’s Felix. Still ain’t dead, still ain’t grown a spine. I’m tryin’ to cut you a deal, here. Let you save face, get you some better names under your belt. So take it.” He paused, the silence between them heavy. “Take it.” Or else was the unspoken addendum to that command, present only in the extreme tension that had settled over the table.

—

And there it was. Whatever sliver of interest that had previously shone on Leo’s slimy face was gone, the smugness replacing it so naturally. Maybe Zane had been spending too much time with Emilio because he really, really wanted to hit him. He didn’t, letting nails dig into his palms once more, ready to leave. Wyatt had done plenty of schmoozing but it wasn’t taking - Leo was too insufferable, too possessive. They’d have to figure out another way to help Felix. 

Zane turned his gaze to Wyatt, surprised to see the anger he felt mirrored back tenfold on the shifter’s face. Oh, boy. He was going on a tangent, spitting out words as a last resort and Zane was finding it really hard to keep his face neutral, keep his eyebrows from furrowing with worry. This was Wyatt’s third little surprise of the evening and Zane wasn’t sure he could handle another. Take it. Swallowing thickly, Zane placed a hand on the shifter’s forearm, giving a squeeze. “Let’s just go,” he said, wanting to plead with the man but refusing to do so in front of the fae. He didn’t care if this wasn’t part of Wyatt’s plan, whatever that even was at this point - the tension between the other two was electric and Zane didn’t want to wait around for it to blow. “Wyatt.”

—

Ah, here it was. Lockjaw’s true colors, shining through like a spotlight. Some part of Leo couldn’t help but find amusement in the tirade, a slow grin stretching across his face. Everything Lockjaw said was the truth. Felix was pathetic, was a wet cat who couldn’t handle what the Grit Pit stood for, what it did. But Lockjaw wasn’t right about everything. He thought he was smart — that much was clear — but there were a few things Leo figured he didn’t have straight quite yet.

“The thing is, Wyatt,” he used Lockjaw’s human name, eyes darting over to the man with him with an amused glint; he’d known it before, on some level, but it wasn’t something he’d bothered committing to memory. Had Zane not said it, Leo wouldn’t have been able to pull it from memory in the moment. But it was so much funnier this way. “The thing is,” he said again, “you’re wrong about that. Some people, sure, they get uncomfortable seeing somebody in the ring who doesn’t want to be there. But some people? They live for that shit. See, most people who visit our little establishment don’t have a lot of power in their day to day lives. They’re human, they’re weak. So they see somebody like Felix, with the big claws and the sharp teeth, doing shit they don’t want to do just to amuse them? Well, that makes them feel good. Which makes me feel good. Ought to make you feel good, too, with the money we put in your pockets.” With a smug smile, Leo laced his fingers together behind his head. “Anyway, I don’t give a shit about ‘better names’ or ‘better fighters.’ That little shit wasted years of my life, you know. Dragging me down, making me miserable… I don’t really care how the fights go. I just like to see them half as miserable as they made me. Fuck knows they deserve it.”

—

Fuck it. Fuck it, Wyatt thought. This charade had gone on long enough. He pulled his arm away from Zane, extending it quickly to grip Leo by the collar. “You did that to yourself!” he shouted furiously, pushing Leo out of his chair and following quickly after, not releasing his hold. “You could have walked away at any fuckin’ time, but you didn’t! No one feels more sorry for you than you do for yourself, you stupid piece of shit.” The people nearest them reeled back from the sudden outburst, giving the pair a wide berth as they scrambled up from their seats. “I’m not lettin’ it go,” he ground out, directing it vaguely in Zane’s direction, though his gaze remained fixed on the fae in his grasp. “You let them go. Let them go! Or God as my witness I will rip out those fuckin’ intestines of yours and make you real fine noose out of ‘em.” 

—-

Shit. Zane should have gripped Wyatt’s arm tighter, should have dragged him out the second Leo lost interest. Instead, eyes were turning and angry hands were wrapped up in the fae’s collar. The chair almost toppled over as Zane stood, no longer caring to hide his discomfort with the situation. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Why had he let himself ignore the way Wyatt had impaled a stranger when he could have just as easily knocked him out? He’d wanted to believe that a part of the shifter was sensible but even more so, even more desperately, had wanted it to be possible to save Felix. 

“Stop,” Zane hissed, grabbing the crook of Wyatt’s elbow, not bothering with being gentle this time. “I know he’s a piece of shit but this isn’t going to help anyone.” He was definitely pleading at this point, even if the words were laced with anger. Wyatt had purposefully let him believe things weren’t going to end this way, that they wouldn’t do anything that might put Felix in danger. “Let’s leave or I’ll make you.” The threat sounded strange coming from his mouth but it was made to prevent harm, not cause it. Zane knew he could drag the shifter out if need be, as long as he stayed like this. Oh, how he hoped they weren’t about to be graced by the presence of Wyatt’s other form. 

—

A hand wrapped around his collar, a weight forced him to the ground. Despite working in a fighting ring, Leo wasn’t much of an action guy. He preferred to use his words rather than his fists, was good with them. Lockjaw attacking him hadn’t been something he’d accounted for. Maybe he should have known better. Some people were into the whole ‘pathetic wet cat’ thing Felix had going on. It was a little surprising that they’d managed to snag Lockjaw’s attention with it, but maybe it shouldn’t have been. Leo swallowed, looking up at the angry shifter. “If you kill me,” he said lowly, “you kill any chance they ever have at getting out. That contract won’t end with me. But any chance of release will.”

His eyes darted back to Lockjaw’s friend, hovering nervously behind them both. “If you take him now, I’ll let you leave without any consequences for the two of you,” he promised, careful with his words. “You can walk out, but only if you go now. Otherwise…” He trailed off, tilting his head to the side. “The Grit Pit has plenty of ways of twisting your contract around, Wyatt. I’d hate to see them ruin all your fun. You enjoy the fighting, don’t you? We can make it so that you don’t. Twist it so you lose every time. It’s all right there in the fine print. You don’t need both your arms to be useful to us. Or the tail, or the eyes. I’d be very careful how you use your words.”

—

Wyatt was ready to turn on Zane if he had to, the strong grip on his arm igniting an instinct that was especially hard to control when he was this sleep deprived and this angry. Let’s leave or I’ll make you. He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, wanting nothing more than to strangle the life out of the smug bastard in his other hand, but then that bastard was talking again, and the things he was saying put something of a damper on the lamia’s temper. Killing him wouldn’t break the contract? What kind of fuckin’ shit was that? He’d been ready to deal with the consequences for killing a handler, but not if it would amount to nothing. 

The threat wasn’t veiled by any definition of the term, and Wyatt felt his resolve breaking. The cogs in his head were turning, weighing the pros and cons of beating Leo to a pulp right here and now. Pros: he’d feel better. Cons: … everything else. A miserable future for him and Felix both. 

“They don’t know,” he finally said, releasing Leo’s shirt. “They don’t know we’re here.” Leo’s words were rattling around in his head and he couldn’t get past the phrasing the fae had used. Without any consequences for the two of you. “They didn’t ask me to—” Zane was dragging him back, probably anxious to just get them both the hell out of there. “They didn’t ask!” He was frantic for the stupid motherfucker to understand that, but there was a deep rooted fear in his heart that Leo wouldn’t care. Goddamnit. Goddamnit. 

Once they were outside, Wyatt kicked the first thing he saw that wasn’t bolted to the ground, sending the trash can (that had been bolted, but evidently not very well) clattering into the street. Another string of curses spilled from him and he paced on the spot for a few seconds before wheeling around and making for the door to go back inside. “I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

—

Leo was… terrifying. He wasn’t just mean or conceited or a bit sadistic - he was cruel. The two of them should have talked to Felix beforehand, should have let them make the case that this really was a bad idea. Zane had half a mind to let Wyatt go, make this bastard pay but it would only sour an already awful situation. And then the shifter relented and Zane didn’t hesitate, forcing the man towards the door even if the desperation in his voice was horrifying. Felix hadn’t asked for this and now a couple of dumbasses had most likely screwed everything up for them. With one last withering glare in Leo’s direction, he finally managed to shove the ball of fury outside. 

Zane deflated while he watched the other man rampage, wincing slightly as the trash can clanged against the street. Anxiety was fully rolling through every cell with a nice accompaniment of guilt. What had they just done? Wyatt gave no warning before rushing at the door - he was angrier but Zane was faster. 

“Stop it!” Shoving the other back, standing his ground in front of the door, Zane glared down at the shifter. “We’ve made enough of a mess. Going back in now is only going to get you in more shit on top of whatever… whatever’s going to happen with Felix now. So back off, kick another trash can or something. You’re not going back in there.”

—

Wyatt let himself be stopped, not really wanting to hurt Zane, who hadn’t done anything wrong except listen to a shit-for-brains shifter who knew too little about the world to make any kind of good decisions. He stood there in front of him, jaw clenched as tight as it could be and trembling from the rage that coursed through him, threatening another unintended shift. His gaze wasn’t on the vampire though, it was laser focused through the door on the spot where he knew he had left Leo to pick himself up off the ground. 

“He can’t—Felix is never gonna get out of that place as long as he’s alive,” he argued. “Fuck, the contract might default to someone else, but they wouldn’t have an emotional investment, right? They might let Felix go if I—if I gave them somethin’ better—” He still didn’t really understand how it all worked, and he was grasping at straws. The only thing he knew for certain was that it was going to take every ounce of mental fortitude he had (which wasn’t very much these days) to keep from devouring the handler on sight. Frustrated and with no place else to channel it, Wyatt finally let his gaze lock with Zane’s. 

“... I’m goin’ to the Pit,” he announced, turning and walking away. The last time they’d met outside a bar, he’d complained that it was too far to walk. Now he didn’t care. Now maybe the walk would do him good, and by the time he got to the Pit, he wouldn’t still be ready to rip apart whatever poor creature they put in front of him. It was his night off, but he’d work for free this time. He needed to destroy something. 

[organchordsandlightning]

Speckled Band Part 3

"Can I be of assistance?" "Your presence might be invaluable." "Then I shall certainly come." "It is very kind of you."

extremely soft over this dialogue. watson is his partner, and holmes is still like ‘look, you can wait in the hotel if you want’

"Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession.

as someone with a hobby knowledge of the history of toxicology, it really is fascinating to see this as written in 1892. at this point, we have an okay-ish knowledge of what household things are poisonous (at the very least, the UK at this time was much better about banning stuff like arsenic in candy than the US) but we’re still about ... like, thirty-forty years out from being able to reliably identify non-plant-based poisons (like arsenic, etc etc) in the human body after death. a lot of poisonings got away with it because, frankly, a lot of people were getting accidentally poisoned all the time anyway, and if you couldn’t identify arsenic or what-have-you in a corpse ... no case!

Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a vise upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put his lips to my ear.

"It is a nice household," he murmured. "That is the baboon."

“It is a nice household” mixed with watson’s “MY GOD!? A CHILD!?” is so funny

I do love that Watson is writing these stories down for publication, but he’s freely admitting to burglary here

How long they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall.

god I’m remembering how well-done this scene is in Granada, and you can really feel the tension here

I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing.

oh holmes is SCARED scared “you won’t inject my body with an undetectable non-plant-based poison you son of a bitch”

"It is a swamp adder!" cried Holmes; "the deadliest snake in India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another.

such a good reveal

Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott's death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience."

(a) snakish lmao (b) this brings up an interesting legal question of whether holmes is guilty of murder.  while I don’t think this falls under the legal definition of murder (no pre-intent) or manslaughter (frankly, it’s more self-defense than anything - you see a snake hissing at you, you gotta hit that bad boy with a cane, that it went back to its master and bit him is none of your business as far as you’re concerned) however, i did look up to see that the felony murder rule was still in place in the UK at that time (called constructive malice) -- essentially saying that the courts could attribute malice aforethought (’i’m gonna go kill that guy) to you if a death was caused during the commission of another felony (say .... burglary) EDITED WITH FURTHER LEGAL THOUGHTS -- HELEN INVITED THEM INSIDE THE HOUSE, I DON’T THINK IT COUNTS AS BURGLARY ANYMORE, SHERLOCK HOLMES IS MURDER-FREE

[rabbitcruiser]

National Love a Tree Day

National Love A Tree Day is celebrated every year on May 16 and it falls right in the middle of Garden for Wildlife Month. Did you know trees actually didn’t exist for the first 90% of Earth’s history? Shocking, isn’t it? Before trees, our Earth had fungi that grew 26 feet tall and resembled trees. Trees have played an irreplaceable role in the smooth functioning of our environment and celebrating this special day dedicated to them is the least we can do to appreciate them.

History of National Love a Tree Day

Trees can be thousands and thousands of years old with many species tending to have long lifespans. In fact, trees can be traced back to the creation of the world, according to the Bible and the story of Adam and Eve who ate the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

From well-preserved cellular anatomy, it has been found that Cladoxylopsida were the first species of large trees to appear on Earth almost 400 million years ago in the Devonian period. The other earliest trees were known to be tree ferns, horsetails, and lycophytes and, currently, it is estimated that there are close to three trillion mature trees in the world.

Trees have so many benefits — they provide us with lumber, food, nuts, oxygen to breathe, home for wildlife, and much more. Trees are even used for ornamental and decoration purposes. In the United States itself, there are approximately 766 million acres of forest land.

Trees form an essential part of our environment and, over the years, their importance has been taught to children growing up. Even in recent times, individuals have become so environmentally conscious that a sustainable lifestyle to protect our trees has become the norm. Most people now want to protect and preserve our trees, which make the world a better and safer place to live in.

While the hunt to find the origins of this day is still on, an entire day of appreciation for trees that have given us so much is the least we can do.

National Love a Tree Day timeline

1800 Christmas Tree Tradition

European nobles and officials adopt and popularize the tradition of setting up evergreen conifer trees in homes for Christmas.

1830 –1860 Joshua Tree’s Name

These plants get their name from Mormon settlers as the shape of the tree’s branches reminds them of a biblical passage wherein Joshua raises his hands to the sky in prayer.

1994 Wollemia Trees Found

A few survivors of these ancient trees that were once thought to be extinct are found living in a temperate rainforest in Australia.

2007 First Tree Fossil

Fossils of probably the first tree, Wattieza, that date back to the middle Devonian period, are found in New York State.

National Love a Tree Day FAQs

What day is Tree Day?

Arbor Day occurs on the last Friday in April.

What is World Tree Day?

World Tree or Forest Day is celebrated annually on 21 March.

How are trees important?

They give us clean water to drink, air to breathe, shade, and food for humans, animals, and plants. They provide habitats for numerous species of fauna and flora, firewood for cooking and heat, materials for buildings and places of spiritual, cultural, and recreational importance.

How To Celebrate National Love a Tree Day

Hug a tree

Plant a tree native to your area

Go for a walk in the woods

Release your inner tree hugger and go hug some trees to show them your love. Make sure you do it in front of some people so you can inspire them to show their love to these gentle giants too!

Do some quick research on trees that are native to your area. Once done, you can go ahead and purchase some seeds for that tree and plant them. Put in an effort to look after it as much as possible and see the fruits of your labor grow, literally.

Trees are a vital part of nature and exist all around us. Why not spend the day among trees to celebrate? Go for a walk in the woods and soak in the beauty of trees.

5 Facts About Trees That Will Blow Your Mind

The oldest tree

Space travel

They save you money

Trees can communicate

Trees are very thirsty

A bristlecone pine tree named Methuselah has lived for more than 4,800 years and is older than the Egyptian Pyramids.

Trees have kind of traveled to space when tree seeds were taken up by Apollo 14 astronauts.

Having a mature tree’s shade near your house can actually help to reduce your home cooling bill by approximately 20% in the summer.

It has been found that trees start producing a chemical called phenolics when they detect an insect raid, which acts as a signal for other trees.

An average tree can drink up to almost 530 gallons of water annually.

Why We Love National Love A Tree Day

Trees keep our streets and homes cooler

It helps to reconnect with Earth

Trees are a habitat for wildlife

Urban areas can get significantly hot and even more so in summer. This is when our loving trees come to the rescue! The shade and water vapor provided by trees can keep urban areas so much cooler. National Love A Tree Day is a perfect opportunity to acknowledge the importance of this green cover.

Planting a tree or simply taking care of existing trees can evoke a sense of belonging with nature. Trees are nature, after all, and spending time with them can help you reconnect with Earth. National Love a Tree Day can be a good place to start if you’ve been feeling a disconnect with nature and life outside of routine work.

Of course, we know that a lot of animals live in the forests and need trees for survival. Trees are home to a diverse range of birds, insects, and mammals. A simple tree will also house hundreds or thousands of small creatures like snakes, frogs, millipedes, ants, termites, spiders, to name a few. National Love a Tree Day helps us appreciate these beauties that are essentially home to so many living beings.

Source

[rosethornewrites]

T & G reading since 9/11

The usual.

Finished

Teen:

watch your anger, by loosingletters

Watch your anger, her master used to say, never reprimanding Cangse Sanren for her temper tantrums, mainly reminding her of what she stood to lose if she gave in.

Cangse Sanren survives. Wei Changze does not.

redemption lies plainly in truth, by kaseyskat

“I…” Wei Wuxian pauses again, swallowing. Lan Zhan’s gaze softens, and he takes one of Wei Wuxian’s hands in his own, a gentle reassurance. Take your time, the gesture says, I am here for you whenever you are ready.

“Lan Jingyi,” he finally manages, with a shaky breath, “reminded me that I… that I could. Wear white. For mourning. I never did my one hundred days of mourning for… for shijie, for Wen Qing.”

Lan Zhan makes a little noise in the back of his throat.

“I didn’t…” Wei Wuxian inhales, exhales. Breathe. “I had never… thought about that. I don’t remember being dead, Lan Zhan. It feels like… like three weeks ago, I woke up to Wen Qing and Wen Ning gone. Three weeks since shijie took that blade for me. Since… and it hasn’t been three weeks, but I…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

or, Wei Wuxian comes to terms with the knowledge that he's allowed to grieve for the people he lost.

Do you want to hear, by allollipoppins, dameauxgentianes

— about the deal that I’m making?

Lan Wangji goes back in time to save Wei Wuxian. This changes everything.

Extracts from the diaries of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, relating to the case of Lan Zetian (Nov. 4 to Nov. 27), by Accidental_Child

LWJ and WWX have to work together for their final assignment so they can graduate and become proper cultivators. How complicated could one case be?

“I have been assigned a case to solve as the final assessment for this cultivation masters course. Our class was told that these cases are non-violent, low risk and low impact, suitable for those practising cultivation at a novice level. With my previous experience interning with Brother and Uncle, this seemed too easy. I was correct in this assumption. I have been paired with Wei Wuxian.”

The Twelve Days of Christmas, OR, How to Drive Your Brother-in-Law Insane by Following One Traditional Carol, by Hobbsy3

Wei Ying asks his husband to make more of an effort with Jiang Cheng this Christmas. Lan Zhan chooses malicious compliance.

It is very effective.

In a true Christmas Miracle, this fic contains no angst. Apart from maybe some mild rage on the part of our beloved Jiang Cheng. Enjoy!

General:

of a dream, by Imatableclock

"The softer notes of the scale might help with control," Lan Wangji said, almost petulantly. Wei Wuxian tried to suppress the urge to blow a raspberry at him. It didn't work, and Lan Wangji glared at him, wiping his forehead of spit that definitely wasn't there.

OR

An idle summer day, in the middle of a war. Two boys learning to look at each other, beyond all that the world requires of them.

Unfinished

Teen:

every world, every universe, by glitteringmoonlight

It is well-known that the resources offered by the great clans simply cannot be matched by smaller sects. The greater clans have the most renowned techniques and the best teachers. They have built their reputations over centuries, striving to be the best of the best. It is these clans that most young cultivators aspire to join, and so, they have their pick of recruits and are free to pick the best of the best. To anyone in the cultivation world, it is unquestionable that the great clans reign supreme.

It is, thus, quite understandable that even Wen Ruohan— a man largely known for being arrogant and unflappable— looks surprised at the announcement that the first place in the archery tournament has been won by the Head Disciple of the Tingshan He sect.

Or, Wei Wuxian is raised in Tingshan He. Some things change. Some do not.

Standing By, by Prince_kun

On his way to visit his son and ex, Wei Ying gets stranded at the airport. It turns out to be a little less miserable of an experience when he gets stuck with a handsome, rich stranger named Lan Zhan.

General:

he, who died, is ignorant, by Maxciel_99

Jiang Cheng is thirteen when his eyes lose the shine that has always mirrored Wei Wuxian’s wild spirit. And then no longer is he a shadow of anyone but merely a shell of himself.

Here is a man who is served the world, for once, but he has turned a boy who finally stops wishing and wanting all at once.

_

Or basically, JC time travels but it's not your typical time travel fix-it.

[denimbex1986]

'The other half of this summer’s “Barbenheimer” phenomenon, “Oppenheimer” did so well in its second weekend that it gets a full review all its own. Sure, it came in a distant second to “Barbie” both weekends, but with an estimated $174 million at the domestic box office thus far, it’s more than on pace to become the biggest movie of all time to never win a weekend.

The unofficial, counterintuitive, and highly-unusual “Barbenheimer” marketing campaign (“contrast the glittery comedy with a drama about the atomic bomb”) certainly helped this film’s box office, but it’s a strong enough movie that I’d like to think that it could have been a hit even without its unlikely pink ally.

Cillian Murphy (who I could tell from the first publicity photo was perfect, Oscar-ready casting) stars as J. Robert Oppenheimer, the man credited as the “father of the atomic bomb.” Much like “The Social Network,” the film intercuts its usually-linear historical portion with the framing device of two hearings, one involving Oppenheimer himself, the other involving nemesis Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.), chairman of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission.

As Strauss is not a scientist himself, he and Oppenheimer never get along well professionally, but after a perceived derogatory comment made toward Albert Einstein (Tom Conti), he has it in for Oppenheimer personally.

Much of the movie is standard biopic territory: we follow Oppenheimer from his days at Cambridge, getting advice from Niels Bohr (Kenneth Branaugh) to his role as director of The Manhattan Project in Los Alamos, New Mexico, where the bomb was designed and built.

In his personal life, Robert takes up a relationship with the married Kitty (Emily Blunt) while having an affair with Communist sympathizer Jean (Florence Pugh). Oppenheimer and his colleagues go through the expected setbacks and successes, culminating in a high-stakes demonstration and one of the most massive explosions ever put on film.

Soon the bomb is taken away from the scientists and used in the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan, and Oppenheimer has to forever live with the knowledge that he played an integral role in arguably the most devastating event in human history.

There’s surprisingly little violence in the film, outside of an offscreen suicide and a sequence where Oppenheimer imagines the effects of the bomb. There isn’t even that much “action,” really, unless you count carefully orchestrated test explosions.

But make no mistake, this is one of the most intense films of the year. Sure, some of it has to do with the urgency of the arms race and the stakes involved, but it’s more than that. Director Christopher Nolan knows how to expertly craft a thriller, and his tight pacing and editing will make your heart pound whether it’s bombs or tempers that are flaring.

I’ll be honest, a lot about “Oppenheimer” went over my head, from science to politics to legalese to history. And even if I did know more about all these subjects, I still might get overwhelmed by the film’s crowded cast and all the time-jumping.

Yet there was never any doubt that what was happening was of great importance, whether to world powers or the world of one. And it’s all done with Nolan’s trademark crispness. The bomb-building and hearings may not be pretty or “sleek” necessarily, but you’ll get the impression that these things cannot be done by anyone other than the people doing them.

If you’re looking for a “party” movie where everyone will find something to enjoy while they socialize and pay minimal attention, then “Barbie” is the way to go there. But if you’re ready to be transfixed by a film that will occasionally blow you to the back of your seat (seriously, this is the time to spring for a premium theater experience like IMAX), then “Oppenheimer” is the movie of the summer, maybe the year.

Grade: B'

[bittersweetarts]

Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 11)

Aemond Targaryen x You –  Chapter 1

Word count: 5202 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Sexual content, misogyny, dub-con (kind of)

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 11: Cherry Wine

You knew that your public outburst with Lord Cregan Stark would be gossiped about throughout the Keep, but you did not expect the one-eyed Prince to hear about it mere hours after it had happened, before the sun even set, given that he was out hawking with some noblemen for the afternoon. Yet he had, and had stalked about the Keep in search of you, furious at what he had heard happened.

After the disaster with the Northman, you had desperately wanted to cry and hide face, embarrassment overpowering any other emotion you might have felt otherwise. You could not understand why you had let your temper get the better of you, and why you had reacted so poorly in front of so many others. You were normally a level-headed woman, and Lord Cregan had not said anything outrageous or belligerent. In fact, he had empathised with you, and had gone out of his way to offer help. So why did you react so emotionally? Not to mention that you had abandoned your duties, which was inexcusable. You hoped that the servants or someone else would take over, but there was no assurance that they would, so there is the possibility that some sort of disaster has occurred as well.

At this very moment, you could not help but completely loathe yourself and your lack of sense.

In shameful punishment, you had sequestered yourself in one of the small study chambers in the Keep’s Library, with your Ser Landor stood outside, probably judging you as harshly as you did yourself. Though the Library was not nearly as grand of a repository of knowledge as others in the Kingdom, such as the Citadel, it was still large enough for you to find a quiet corner to mull over your feelings. It was fairly empty, as most opted to enjoy the pleasant weather and festivities, with only a couple of maesters present indoors. You knew that your chambers were not an option for refuge, for if someone tried to find you, that would be the first place they would look.

You were sat by one of the dark wood tables near the locked books, blankly staring at some large volume you had grabbed. It was silly, your reaction now even, but you felt at a loss.

Perhaps you were blowing matters out of proportion, but your confrontation with the Lord of Winterfell had made you feel disorientated, because it had made you realise that you no longer had any wish to leave King’s Landing. You have grown to care for Prince Aemond and his family, and in a way, you found a home with them. Never good with people, you had managed to find a friend in Helaena, and you cared for her children as if they were your own. Prince Daeron never failed to cheer your spirits, meanwhile Queen Alicent always tried to make you feel at home. Yes, you had grown to care for the Targaryens, and the one-eyed Prince was rather fond of you. Even if House Stark managed to help you leave, how could anything else be better? What more could you ask for?

With your hands on your head and your elbows against the table, you were staring at the book before you, lost in your thoughts. It took a loud, harsh voice to ground you back.

“Leave us. Now!”

The one-eyed Prince’s demanding voice ricocheted throughout the room. You hear some shuffling and the shutting of the entrance door, and this startles you as well. Looking up, you realise that the Prince was stood directly before you, his anger practically fuming out of him. Exhaling, you tilt your head up and cross your arms, maintaining face. You are not taken aback by his wrath, having expected it. Watching him, you see that his breathing is heavy, and he glares at you accusingly, as though you had committed a grevious crime. You quickly realise that he is purposefully silent, waiting for you to speak.

“How was hawking?” You say dully.

You did not really care about how hawking with a bunch of drunk lords went, nor did you care about Aemond’s rage. Your attitude only served to further anger the Prince, who loudly set his hands on the table, leaning over you.

“‘How was hawking?’” He repeated after you, angrily astounded.

“Hawking was just fine, and I was in a fine mood, until I hear upon my return that my Lady decided to parade herself at court, with a fucking Stark out of all people.” Aemond seethed, the words spitting out of his mouth. You found his overreaction to be irritating, especially as the issue was not that you were with Lord Cregan, but rather your outburst. When you roll your eyes, you feel a hand harshly grasp your jaw, forcing you to stand. As you do, you find yourself face-to-face with the Prince.

You should have just explained to him what had happened, been honest with him. Really, it is this exact issue that has had plagued your mind for the past few hours. You could tell him exactly what happened. You could tell him that Lord Cregan Stark had only spoken to you out of concern for your safety, at the behest of your beloved sister, and that you had declined it. Or at least you wish you could tell him, but you knew you could not. Because by being honest, you would not only put your sister at peril, but at the mercy of the possessive Prince, a man known to behave brutally when at the whim of his emotions. You felt sure that he would not respond well to a plot that would take you away from him, and that the perpetrators would not be safe. So instead, you opt to evade the truth, and to distract the Prince. Raising your brows, you cockily answer back.

“Actually, it was not just any Stark, but the Lord of Winterfell.” As you spoke, you could feel the hand on your jaw tighten.

“… and if I knew that it would attract your attention, I would have sought him out a lot sooner.” The fury in the Prince’s eye was unlike you had ever seen before, and you tried to pull back, but failed.

“My attention?” The Prince’s brows furrowed as he leaned more forward, manically whispering now. “You really believe me to be so daft, that I would not grasp that the cunt only spoke to you because of your sister.”

You flinch as he insulted the Northman and fear begins to sink in. Of course, he would know. Your sister is married to Lord Cregan’s cousin, and after your dramatic parting from her only weeks ago, how could he not grasp the connection. Feeling foolish, you drop gaze, which only makes the Prince hum in disapproval.

“This is the last time that I shall ask. What did Lauryn say to you?” As he asks, he tilts your chin up, but you still refuse to look him in the eye. You try to shake your head, but his holds on you is fixed, preventing you from doing so.

“Does it matter?” You respond in a quiet voice. You then feel lips press near your ear, and teeth sharply graze the sensitive skin there. You leap at the contact, and the Prince insincerely grins at you, delighted by your reaction. He keeps you in place though, not allowing you to pull away, steadfastly holding you by your waist. It is deathly silent, as the one-eyed Prince says nothing, and his stupid expression only serves to irritate you. Exhaling, you decide to provoke him instead. Maybe if his anger becomes directed towards you, he will forget about your sister and the Starks.

“Tell me, your Grace, do you like me like this? Do you like to see me upset? Afraid? With your hands on me so tightly that bruises form? Punishing me for things I have yet to do.”

You look him straight at him, pull your face back defiance, his nails scratching your neck and fingers bruising your arms. As you slightly pull away, you see his eye darken, and before you even comprehend, you feel his lips harshly collide against yours.

Suddenly, you are effortlessly lifted by your waist onto the table. When your back meets the wooden table, you arch your back in slight discomfort. As you do, the Prince only pushes himself more against you, deepening the kiss. You feel his teeth insistently bite against your lower lip, but you stubbornly do not open your mouth, enjoying the sensation and his frustration. Though you are in some pain, you cannot bring yourself to stop the Prince, as you shamefully realise that you may actually enjoy the rough treatment. Your refusal only changes the Aemond’s course, and his mouth trails to your neck, now sinking his teeth against the skin there instead, causing you to gasp, and you feel the hands around your waist leave, traveling lower.

“You are infuriating.” Aemond groans, pressing his nose hardly against your neck. When he deeply breathes, you feel your sensitive skin pucker into him, causing you to gasp. Out of breath, you gently grasp his face with a hand, so that he faces you, pressing your lips against his before softly responding.

“Perhaps, but you are not any less so.”

As you answer, your hand moves to his eye mask, pulling it aside without asking. As you do, his expression softens and he kisses you again, this time more gently. You think for a moment that he becomes more tender when his mask is off, but you quickly realise that your assumption is wrong. Swiftly, his hands lift the skirting of your gown to your waist, and you only realise this after the fact.

“Someone will see.” You mumble against his lips, but the Prince roughly dismisses you.

“Let them.”

Aemond pulls back, his eye straying downward, meanwhile your focus is on his face. You see the brilliant glisten of his left ‘eye’ (which you have learned now is a sapphire) and you never seize to be in awe of the gemstone, and how well he wears it. With it, his countenance is haunting, in the most beautiful manner. As you observe him adoringly, the Prince positions himself between you on the wooden table, knees against the ground, pushing aside the heavy book that you failed to read. As it fell, a loud sound echoed through the otherwise silent room. When the Prince separates your legs, your eyes widen with shock, but the Prince ignores this, staring ahead at a new sight.

“Let them see. Perhaps then every fucking lord here will understand who you belong to. Obviously, I have not been clear enough.”

Though his words are harsh and demeaning, you do not find yourself upset, distracted by a sensation you have scarcely ever felt before. As he spoke, the Prince’s fingers moved to your exposed inner thighs, kneading against them. As his hand neared your core, you felt your eyes shut themselves. You try to squeeze your legs together, but the blonde holds them apart, humming in disapproval.

“Aemond.” You say warningly, your hands now against the table, giving you support. You knew where this was going, and though you were not opposed to it, you were worried that someone would walk in on the two of you.

“Louder.”

As the blonde spoke, you realised that his face was now near you, with your legs over his broad shoulders. His words vibrated against the sensitive part of your thighs, forcing you to choke on your breath. As you feel hands skim your underclothing, your hands move to the Prince’s hair, gripping it softly. You find your gaze straying to the door, watching it warily, but the sensation of Aemond’s kisses and bites against your thighs distract your focus. Again, you repeat his name, this time more nervously.

“Aemond. Someone will see or hear.”

At this, you feel your undergarment slipped completely, and simultaneously, warm lips press somewhere that has never been touched before, forcing a cry from you. Your grip against the Prince’s hair also tightens, your nails scraping against his scalp, and this only serves this to bolden his movements. As you pull on his hair, you feel a sleekness press against your center, and your hips begin to move upon their own accord, pressing further into him, and you wonder how Aemond is managing to breathe, when his nose is so firmly pressed against you.

You know that you should be ashamed for your indecency, for letting something like this happen. You were a follower of the faith, and surely this is unacceptable before marriage. But what you felt was akin to nothing you have ever before, so rather than stopping the one-eyed Prince, you found yourself pushing him further into you.

And as his tongue moves across your core, you harshly bite on your lip to suppress a moan, but fail to do so, as a throttled sound escapes. As it does, the hands on your thighs sink deeper, leaving prominent marks, you had no doubt. Suddenly you jump as a cool breeze blows over your folds, and you restrain another cry, that is, until you feel a pinch there. Fingers replaced the work his mouth had previously done, and when you look down, at the Prince with wide eyes, you see him leering at you, pleased.

“Did I not say louder?”

By the time the Prince was finished with you, you were a sobbing mess, sweaty and flushed, collapsed on the table, eye lids heavy. As you laid there, the Prince sat beside you on the chair, playing with your long locks, relishing in your depleted state.

Aemond Targaryen found immense satisfaction in making you come undone, from hearing you say words he had never heard out of your pretty little mouth before. The look of complete devotion, your begging, the way you fell apart after you reached your peak. And by the Seven, your sweet, honied taste. He could not get enough. It was more perfect than he could have ever imagined.

He had intended to be patient with you, only waiting for a few more weeks until the two of you would be wed, when he could do with you as he pleased and fantasised about. He did not care about fucking you before the two of you were man and wife, but he believed that you did, so he was willing to be patient.

But after hearing about Lord Cregan Stark, a man that many noblewomen have pined after for years, and that you were alone with him at the Garden, when he had managed to vex you into throwing a fit – it all became too much. Upon being told this by some insipid Lady vying for his attention at the courtyard, the Prince felt himself become possessed, like a puppet to his impulses, envy clouding his vision. Though angry, he still did not intend on doing anything when confronting you.

But now, he truly does not know how he will manage to restrain himself for days, let alone weeks before your union.

As he observed you in reverence, the one-eyed Prince was pleased beyond belief. As he traced his fingers over the maroon marks he has left on your exposed décolleté, he could not help but wish to add more, as though he was a painter, and you were his canvas.

Slowly, his fingers move to your face, and you turned to face him in response. As you do, his fingers begin feathering over your lips, which were bruised and swollen. As you watched him, you realised that the sun was setting now, a deep red hue seeping into the room, glowing against Aemond. Now, his sapphire eye matched his natural one in colour, and you realised that this now your favourite. The two of you stare at each other in affection for some time, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, until Aemond speaks.

“What is on your mind.”

You lift yourself off the table, planting your feet onto the ground. When you do, the Prince grins at you, pulling you in by the waist, so that you straddle him as he sat on the chair. You have passed many bounds with regards to impropriety now, and this is one of the least shameful things you have done, so you could not even get yourself to feel any shame. Smiling you, your hands softly sink into his long blonde hair, carefully combing through its strands. Aemond, on the other hand, begins to press his lips against the many marks he has left along your neck and open chest. Though it takes a few moments, you do answer him.

“You.”

Leaning your face down, you capture his lips, and begin nipping against them roughly. As you do you feel something beneath you swell, which makes you move in a motion against him, eliciting groans that make you ache in yearning. Before you could go any further though, the one-eyed Prince grips your throat, holding it as he pulled away.

“Ser Landor will escort you to your chambers. You should get ready for tonight’s feast.”

Tonight’s feast. You had completely forgotten that tonight’s affair would be elaborately bountiful, at the Great Hall as it was the night before Jaehaerys’s oath ceremony. So, in the span of a some odd hours before the second most important celebration, you had managed to insult an important Lord, cause scandal, and get seduced by a Targaryen Prince, with marks on your prominent place evidencing this.

You felt ill.

Pulling away from Aemond entirely, you stand up and begin pacing on the spot, one hand on your waist and the other on your throat. Your breathing was heavy, and this worried the one-eyed Prince who, after adjusting himself, stood up, placing his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. After your breath evened, the blonde hunched to you, so that your gazes levelled.

“… Do you regret it, what I have done to you?”

His voice was so unlike it normally is, so full of vulnerability, and this snapped something in you. Perhaps it is because you are so used to looking after others, but you quickly composed yourself and met his eye.

“Of course not.”

You still see doubt in his stare, and the frown on his face remained. Sighing, your hands moved to his face, grasping him before pulling him down to your chest, in order to cradle him, as though you were a swan cradling babes within her wings. As you hold, you press your lips against his hair, and feel his body relax, and his arms wrap around your waist. Your mind is blank as you hold him, and you focus on his breathing, which is deep and slow.

You do not know for how long you held him there, but when he finally pulled away, the room had gotten dark, and you could barely see him, but merely his silhouette and his shining jewel. Holding your arm, the Prince spoke quietly.

“Come. We cannot stay like this forever.”

Preparing yourself was an absolute nightmare, and for all of your efforts, you still did not look your best.

You were escorted to your chambers by Ser Landor, who you understood had stood guarding the door of the small library chamber, and must have heard you with Prince Aemond, leaving you absolutely mortified and unable to even look at the stoic knight. Upon your arrival, you were told that you had little time before the feast, but thankfully, you had nothing to do with its preparation, so your only task was to get ready and be present at the Great Hall before the guests arrive.

Unfortunately for you, you could not wear the dress you had intended to, as the dress revealed your arms and chest area. As you observed yourself in the mirror, you understood that the Prince’s earlier promise at Shipbreaker Bay was not empty; you really did look like you had been attacked by a beast.

Against your reflection, you could see crimson and purple teeth-shaped marks trail along your chest and neck, up to your ear. Your bare arms were in a better state, though pink scratches still ran across them, so they would have to be covered as well. The lower half of your body, ou were mentally unprepared to even glance at. Though your body ached and your skin was tender to the touch, you were not really in any pain. When you pressed against a bruise on your neck, the discomfort that flamed only brought back memories from earlier, making you flush, and feel shame for enjoying it.

Sighing in exasperation, you scavenge through your wardrobe, in search of your only option for the evening: a light pink fitted long-sleeve gown, which had an obnoxiously high neckline. It was one your least favoured dresses, and not suitable for King Landing’s warmer climate, but you had no other option. You also opted to keep your curls down, braiding a few loose strands, in hopes that it concealed the faint markings on your face as well, though your lips needed a darker lip paint to conceal the swelling.

The Feast was even more elaborate than those of the Summer Solstice Festival, with ever flowing cherry wine, an elaborate spread across all tables, and lots of lively chatter and music. Perhaps it was because you were a little intoxicated from drinking a little more than you should, but the room glowed in a warm hue, and it felt almost magical.

At a distance, in front of the Iron Throne, was a long table, where the Targaryen Family was sat, eating and drinking, as everyone else was currently. You avoided the eye of your Aemond, knowing that you would die on the spot out of shame. So instead, you let your gaze stray to others currently sat at the front. You occasionally met the eye of Prince Daeron and Queen Helaena, but they both seemed distracted by other matters. The children were happily talking with each other, with the exception of Prince Maelor, who sat sulkily, nagging for the attention of his mother, who sat beside him. Next to the Prince heir sat at the center, was King Aegon, who you uncomfortably shared eye contact with a few too many times. However, it was not as uncomfortable as being sat with Lord Larys Strong.

For the Feast, Queen Alicent thought it was best for you to be sat with Lord Strong and the members of his House who were visiting the capitol, seeing as your own family was not an option. As far as you knew, your Lord Father and eldest brother, Tommen, would be at the oath ceremony tomorrow, pledging fealty to Aegon’s heir. Otherwise, they were not present for any of the festivities, and it did not take wit to comprehend why.

While you were not eager on seeing Tommen in particular, you also were not excited to spend the evening sat next to Lord Strong and his House. His two sisters were also sat near you, but they were practically mute, their husbands conversing between themselves instead. You tried to speak with the younger of the two, Lyra, as she sat closest to you, but the strawberry blonde only mumbled half-responses, evidently not eager to interact with you.

So here you were, drinking a copious amount of cherry wine to cope with the uncomfortable conversations that Lord Larys attempted to have with you. It did not help your patience that you also were practically boiling in the room, which felt as though it were a furnace.

“It is a shame that you did not join us for hawking, my Lady, as some other wives did. I am sure you would have made a splendid huntress. Jerkin and trousers would suit you well.”

Pursing your lips, you try to come up with a response. This was question was not as intrusive as some of his earlier ones, regarding her family back home (the worst being about the marriage eligibility of your youngest sisters, who are still children). Forcing a smile, you answer before sipping on your goblet.

“Another time, my Lord.”

“Your current dress suits you well as well. It is very unlike what you normally wear, but lovely nonetheless.”

There was an inquisitive look in Ser Larys’s eyes, and it took all your might to maintain your forced smile and thank him. You were sure that he suspected something, for he was the Master of Whisperers after all. Thankfully, before the small council member could say another word, a deep voice called upon your name. Turning around, you see the tall Lord of Winterfell, stood before you dressed heavy in black.

“Lord Strong,” the Northman spoke loudly, in order to be heard in the loud hall. “May I borrow the Lady for a moment?” You see the Master of Whispers hesitate for a moment, as though piqued by the intrusion, prior to rigidly nodding. As you turn to face the Lord Stark, you see his hand before you.

“Can I ask you for a dance?”

Though you were not keen to dance with a man you had embarrassed yourself in front of, you were desperate to separate yourself from the Lord sat next to you, so you enthusiastically agree.

As you take his hand, he escorts you to the center of the room, with a hand on your waist, where many others danced in pairs, and you relished in the breeze you felt as the two of you walked briskly.

Though you felt many eyes burn on you, you do not feel intimidated because, despite the Northman’s daunting stature presence, his kind eyes bring you comfort. Or perhaps it is the liquid courage in your bloodstream. As you take his other hand and slowly begin dancing, you speak in earnest, to diffuse the little tension between the two of you.

“Forgive me for my outburst earlier today, my Lord. It was unbecoming and disgraceful, especially given the kindness you have shown my family and I.” Lord Cregan spins you and pulls you in, before responding.

“There is nothing to forgive, my Lady.”

His breath smells of ale, and as you look at him, you realise that he is smiling, the first you have seen since you met him. It suits him well, and you feel yourself returning the expression. You now wonder whether you should have drunk so much, because you feel yourself speaking without enough thought.

“You should smile more; it befits you better than your frown.”

He lets out a hearty laugh, and it is as welcoming as his eyes. The Northman is not used to women speaking to him as you do, as most are too afraid to even speak to him, let alone with the honesty and cheek that you do.

Before he responds though, the Northman lifts you, moving you away, and you realise as your shoulders softly collide with that hard back of a large man, it was so that you would not be pushed to the ground. The floor has become crowded now, with many drunk Lords and Ladies dancing with each other, and you are beginning to understand that you perhaps may have become one of them. And that you are rather enjoying it, the feeling of being not sober, and in a way, you have missed it.

Or at least you did, until your glance at the front on the room, and your eyes meet that of the Prince Aemond, who is sharply staring at you, with his jaw tightly clenched.

The table where the Targaryens sat was mostly empty now, as Queen Helaena had joined the dance with her brother-husband, and the children were playing by the table with their grandmother. It was only his grandsire who sat near the one-eyed Prince, talking of politics, but the Prince paid little attention to the conversation, instead obsessively watching you dance with Lord of Winterfell.

As he watched, the wayward Prince was gripping the table so tightly that the King’s Hand turned to look where the Prince’s gaze was. When he saw you dancing with the Lord Stark, he immediately excused himself, to maintain a safe distance from his grandson.

The Hand found it ridiculous that you chose to parade yourself in front of the Prince, given that the two of you were to be wed, especially following the events of the afternoon. Though your upcoming union with the Prince has not been declared yet, Otto Hightower did not expect you to act so foolishly, rousing the Prince’s jealousy by dancing with another, especially given his daughter and grandchildren often praised your intelligence. But what could he do? He knew how violently emotional his favourite grandchild could get, and knew better than to interfere.

A slower melody was now being played by the musicians at the Hall, and as it started, you looked up to Lord Stark, about to excuse yourself.

During your time together, Cregan Stark’s gaze persistently stayed on you, his attention never wavering. You, on the other hand, had gotten distracted, and after seeing your Aemond’s petulance, you understood that it would be better to join the miserable company of Lord Larys, or better yet, call it a night and leave to your chambers, for the sake of the evening and avoiding potential conflict. You would not be able to bear it if you were the one who spoiled the Feast before Prince Jaehaerys’s oath ceremony.

“Thank you for the joyful dancing, my Lord. I greatly enjoyed myself – ”

Before you manage to finish your sentence, you feel a hand possessively clasp your clothed shoulder, which takes you aback. Tilting your face to your right, you find the Prince Aemond, stood in close proximity to you, with a neutral expression that would betray nothing, if not for the flaring of his nostrils and the glare he gave the Northman.

Lord Cregan’s hands were on your waist, but upon the arrival of the one-eyed Prince, you had dropped your hold on his shoulders, and the Northman reluctantly followed.

“Lord Stark.” The one-eyed Prince acknowledges rigidly, his voice coarser than usual.

“Prince.”

Your eyes were firmly watched Aemond, almost afraid. You could see him contemplating how to proceed, and you had a feeling that whatever he would decide to say next would only result in disagreement. You were also acutely aware of how the three of you held the attention of the entire Hall, as other conversations have gone silent, and there was less dancing now. This only served to make you feel flustered and warm again. Taking a deep breath, you turn to face Lord Cregan, who you could see was watching you.

“Thank you for the dance, my Lord. Please excuse me.” Similar to earlier, you do not give the Lord of Winterfell an opportunity to respond, nor Prince Aemond, as you quickly shake off the blonde’s hand, and slip between the crowd gathered around, fleeing out of the Great Hall.

Author’s Note: Each time I write, I promise myself that the chapter will not be too long, and each time I fail. Nevertheless, I hope you don't dislike me too much for it, and that you enjoyed!

– Chapter 12

Tags: girl-obsessed-with-things 404slayer404 moonmaiden1996 rosaryos  roseanimelover jovialfanatic wishfulwithwine missusnora maat-the-prescriptive  @let-love-bleeds-red​​ shnadaidas klutzyfreak mistalli pearlstiare nctma15 weepingfashionwritingplaid ihaveadogithink verycollectivecreator @thelibraperspective​ eddies-bat-tattoos marcs-luver kpopdistoyedmylife-blog solacestyles lonadane

[chaoticgeminate]

Consequences

Part of the Iridescence Fictional Universe

Hunter’s Gambit Series Part Three

Werewolf!Francisco Morales x Selkie f!Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5K

Series Summary: The local Selkie pod hires Frankie and the boys to track down missing members who ventured outside the sea-side area of the city, reader comes with them to make sure the missing selkie come home. They end up tracking down something more dangerous to all of the shifting people.

Chapter Summary: The wolves do what they do and there's unrest in the pod

[AO3]

Frankie could feel Tom’s bubbling anger the closer he got as he hurried down the roadway, a few people turning to watch him lope by them once he hit the point where the path reconnected to the beach, and as he approached his pack he realized Will had yet to return. He changed back to his humanoid self to properly confront the other wolf, the creaking and grinding of bone sounding worse than it actually was, and Tom leveled him with a fierce look.

“I told you, the job comes first, Fish. What the hell is wrong with you?” Pope stepped between the them immediately, hands up and eyes firm, while Benny hovered close in case he needed to intervene too. It wasn’t uncommon for him and Tom to have flare-ups like this but Frankie knew part of his elevated temper stemmed from finding his mate, this job was far more importance for him than it was for the others.

“Some fuckin’ alpha bull was trying to lay claim on her, that she didn’t want.” Frankie’s reply sent a ripple of alarm through the rest of the pack faster than a spark to a dry pile of wood. Having a mate that wasn’t were-kin was hard enough, they wouldn’t feel the connection nearly as strong, but if Frankie had to win you over while competing with other potential partners there wasn’t any chance he wouldn’t end up in some pissing contest with the others whether they were male or not.

Tom scrubbed his face with his hands, frustrated, but Frankie couldn’t help that it made his anger spike more. The other wolf had been worse when he’d found Molly and hadn’t been forced to go against old laws, for him to be this frustrated was only continuing to compound the pent up agitation bubbling beneath the surface.

“We’ll get it sorted, selkie are technically were-kin, yea? If we tell the Elders that you’re mates they won’t let this bull lay claim to her until they know whether or not she accepts you, right?” Frankie’s throat tightened as he thought about what you said, about the old rite of claim, and he shook his head with a shrug; he didn’t know nearly as much about selkie laws as he needed to, not that he’d expected to ever need the knowledge.

“Fish, we’ll figure it out. But we have to find the pups first, that way your seal-girl will be all excited and happy and run right into your arms.” Benny’s lopsided grin was broad and Frankie exhaled with a nod, ignoring the sour look on Tom’s face, and the grumble from Tom melted into a fond huff as he offered a fist bump to clear the air that Frankie returned.

“Sorry man, just don’t want to blow this one, we need eyes at the docks. Plus, the last thing we need is you picking fights with the clients.” Both men knew that it wouldn’t be possible for Frankie to ignore any challenge, his instincts wouldn’t allow for it, so if Gavin really did start something the pack would have to be there to run interference. Frankie had a quiet strength about him, as Santiago had once said, where you never knew exactly how strong he really was until he got loud.

He genuinely hoped Gavin wasn’t stupid enough to test him, the adrenaline spike that came with protecting your mate or winning your potential mate would make him far more dangerous of an opponent.

“Hey, get in, got eyes.” Will’s sudden arrival came with a screech of tires and the pack piled into the SUV, the blond staying at the wheel since he’d been the one to follow the other vehicle.

“Definitely some sort of magic users, might be just magicians and might be a mix, but the runes that Oberyn’s little partner made for us are good. They didn’t detect the SUV at all and I didn’t set off any alarms.” Frankie made sure to pay attention to the route, his phone chiming loudly and he glanced down at the device.

OM: Magicians kidnapping selkie pups?

FM: Yes, we’re on the trail now. Any reason why they would you know of?

There was a delay in the response, likely thinking or trying to come up with an answer that would help, and Frankie watched the triple dots appear on the screen after looking away to clock the SUV’s route. It wasn’t a familiar drive but it certainly was proving to be out of the way.

OM: So there’s two reasons they might, first is to steal their coats to try and siphon the magic from them.

OM: The second would be to try and use them as test subjects for potions or spells, though I can’t think of a reason they would specifically target selkie.

FM: Thank you for the advice, we’ll let you know what we find.

OM: Do you need me to come out to you? I have a teleport rune I can activate linked to the SUV still, though Oberyn might get pouty if I run off without him.

He genuinely took a moment to consider having the magician join them before telling her to hang back, just for now, and to keep her phone handy as a precaution. That way he could message her to activate the teleportation as back-up if they found themselves in some hot chaos for any reason. Frankie made sure to share his location with her, asking her to have the Consortium on speed dial too, if they needed to elevate this it would start with the agency in charge of the spell casters.

“There, see?” The SUV passed under charms tied to the steel beams of the nearly abandoned construction set up, the old mall was set to be demolished since there was no saving it after Pero’s heavily pregnant wife flooded the building ten years back because some moron tried to kidnap her pre-teen daughter. If anything they were lucky that Pero hadn’t been around at the time, taking his eldest son to live with the dragons on the Scaleborn Isles for the summer.

Now they had a permanently flooded building and in order to get the water out they’d have to just tear the top stories away.

Frankie had Will pull over and tucked his phone away, a visual sweep showed nothing out of the ordinary save for the runes. No tire tracks, no footprints, no garbage littered around to indicate anyone had been here.

“We’ll get out one at a time, to see if we set off anything alarm wise, I’m going to change forms.” Tom was the one to slip out first, keeping low and changing half way since it was his most preferred, and Benny followed after. One by one they exited the SUV, the charms silencing the sound of the doors closing worked at least, and Santiago stayed fully humanoid and instead made sure he had his gun and Frankie’s phone. The rest of the pack were in various states of the change, with Frankie fully changed over, and they began creeping through the area.

He slipped in through one of the doors and paused, keeping low and close to the shadows, glancing down to where the basement floor was half-submerged with water; there wasn’t any sign of the kids swimming around, not that he’d want them to be given the algae build up and the visible murk. A soft whimper had his ears shooting up, careful to keep his claws from clicking on the tile as he maneuvered toward the sound, and he crouched low at the sight of a shadow moving across one of the paper sheet-covered doorways.

Nobody was talking but he could hear the sound of kids sniffling, the scent he’d gotten from Lottie was here and the freshest for sure, and Frankie heard the soft click of a door opening across the way. He kept low and still, the shadows of the building perfect for his nearly black fur to blend against, and a woman stepped out of what used to be a jeweler’s place holding a basin in her hands that she brought into the room he could hear the kids from.

“We have about one more week before the Anchor will be strong enough, then we can begin gathering the rest of what we need.”

“Then we can go home?” Frankie bit back a sound at the question asked from a young boy, his tone rich with anger, and he had no doubt that it was one of the older pups and part of him suspected it was Colton.

“Yes, kid, then you can go home.” Something in the woman’s voice told Frankie that was a lie and he could hear the hissing reply of the young bull that followed, clearly the kid recognized the lie, and Frankie felt the lightest touch of Santiago’s hand on his flank before the door to the shop opened again. The woman didn’t notice them at all as she returned to where she’d been, leaving Frankie to creep closer, and he could feel the others beginning to set up the perimeter.

Santiago turned his gun safety off, the slow order from Tom to engage rippling through their bond, and Frankie used his entire body weight to shatter the glass of the papered up store window before snarling at the magician that jumped to his feet in alarm.

“Freeze, now!” The order from Santiago was ignored, fire crackling to life in the magician’s palm where his mark was tattooed into his skin, and Frankie was already in motion to put himself between the magician and the pups as Santiago took the shot. The man dropped like a sack of spuds and Frankie hurried to inspect the six kids, all tired but not injured, and his teeth crunched down on the chains of the cuffs so they could have their full mobility back.

“Come on, kids, Frankie is going to take you outside to the SUV.” Santiago covered them as Frankie led the pups through the small gap, seeing Benny half-changed grappling with a magician that had some sort of golem, and once the kids were tucked safely away he forced himself to change partially back.

Just enough to stand easier on his hind legs, his front paws becoming more hand-like, and he roared in challenge at the magician with the golem; the sharpened bolt of ice launched at him made Frankie swat it away, barreling toward the man with a snarl, and one good blow to the head dropped the caster so Frankie could help dismantle the stone behemoth with Benny.

Two loud shots popped across the area, the sleep spell bullets dropping the magicians like flies and guaranteeing they would stay down, but Frankie grunted when the golem’s arm swung back and caught him in the ribs. Golems weren’t inherently intelligent life, they were animated by magic with one job, this one was to protect its magician and that meant it would keep going until it was destroyed or the caster was dead.

Being made of concrete and steel beams meant this sucker was strong and his ribs throbbed, he had to thank the Huntress that his healing metabolism was much faster than a standard human, so Frankie backed off a moment as Benny slipped under a swing and went into a grapple.

Benny’s bark was all he needed, Frankie hooked his arms around the golem’s ‘neck’ and they pulled in opposite directions, the soft crumble of everything falling to pieces came after the horrendous shriek of the animation spell being broken. As they let go of the parts that made up the golem he heard the howl of pain, felt the ache that ripped through the bond, and Frankie didn’t even think.

He moved.

Gavin was being insufferable, his footsteps echoing as he paced around the main lobby in his fit, and you could feel the tension radiating off every selkie present as the Elders faced your Nana. Elder Reagan and Elder Malcolm were red with anger while Pappy Rowan was shaking his head. Arranging the entire pod to meet here had taken some time, since a few members were still down at the docks working, but when the final fishing trawler had been clocked in and cleaned they’d ambled up to the lobby.

“Tell me Caoimhe, are you an Elder of this pod?” Reagan’s shrill voice was tight with irritation, you knew that the only reason she was so outraged was that Gavin was her son and you had never wanted to slap someone more.

“Not as Council, no, but I am an elder.” A few chuckles went up from the crowd, nervous laughter at her clear dismissal of Elder Reagan’s position if authority, and you couldn’t help the way you grinned wide. Elder Malcolm let out a hissing bark of warning and you met his gaze head on, eyes hard with anger and loathing, and he looked away from you first this time.

“What then, might I ask, gives you the right to assault the Alpha Bull of the pod?” A barking laugh escaped your Nana, that you almost mirrored, the fact that Reagan had the gall to use the word assault was laughable.

“Assault? Is that what he’s claiming now? I swatted him with a wooden spoon because he was squaring up to one of the detectives we hired to find his pups. Or do you not care about the pod’s reputation among the city?” Reagan hissed in warning and your Nana returned that sound, the two were probably more than ready to shift and settle this in a fight but your Pappy held up his hand and both cows quieted.

To your surprise Pappy Rowan motioned to you, gesturing you to step up beside your Nana, and you obeyed the quiet order. It wasn’t missed how you moved to stand just slightly in front of your Nana and between her and Reagan, a direct challenge to the Elder selkie and a quiet declaration of championship, which made Reagan’s lip curl.

“I need you to tell me why Gavin was trying to challenge the werewolf.” Your grandfather’s request was spoken softly, curiously, and you could only imagine the outrage that was going to come from Malcolm and Reagan now. It wasn’t a secret they detested your clear refusal to pair off with any of the pod’s bulls or even submit to Gavin’s attempt to claim you, everything you did went against what they had instilled into the other cows of the pod and they’d only ever be happy when you finally settled down with some bull and began having pups of your own.

“Gavin tried to make a show of claim over me, which he doesn’t have, and Francisco was furious on my behalf. Unlike our pod the other species and races see rape as a crime, including the Faldes Point Pod, so when Gavin made that threat Francisco reacted accordingly and saw me in need of defense.” The silence that followed your statement settled along the room, you could feel the discomfort of the cows behind you since many of them had not chosen the bulls they were currently married to or had pups with.

It was a cruel, archaic, system of ownership that had no place in Se’Kvia anymore.

“You didn’t think to inform him that our pod-“

“That our pod breaks the law and gets away with it because we follow the old ways like we haven’t grown past The Sundering? You know that’s why none of our pod has a seat on the Council of Were-kin and Shifters, right? Because they all have agreed that the old ways are cruel and demeaning and that any who follow them shouldn’t hold a voice of power.” It was a hard truth you had grown up with, after meeting Bryn and Saraya and the others and learning that your pod lived like the world was still ending, and seeing how much happier the other pod was had really been a slap to the face.

Pappy Rowan held up his hand to silence you, his eyes soft and tired, and you suspected this was a constant battle for him between Nana and Reagan. That you were now feeding into and giving him an added source of contention in the pod among the cows.

“You think our ways are cruel, or I suppose barbaric is a better term?” The question asked was not what you expected in the slightest. He had grown up in those ways, lived by them, so while you hated that he hadn’t been willing to change you knew that it stemmed from his own raising and what he knew to be normal.

“I do.” Lying to him was not something you could do, you lost your parents because of Gavin’s rise to power as the Alpha when his battle for the seat of power led to your father dying and your mother’s quiet death from heartbreak. Your parents had wanted to change the Pod for the better, your father only took a harem to protect the cows that asked him to keep them safe and refused to get them pregnant unless he knew they truly wanted to have his children, a blend of following the old ways and still trying to be better.

Unlike Riona, Marnie, and Kara you resented the traditional ways of the pod because you knew that all of you were worth more than having pups and living a life shut away by the pier.

“You do not belong in this pod-“ Reagan’s outburst was interrupted by your Pappy holding his hand up, the barking sound of warning from your grandfather answered by Gavin’s as the alpha bull moved to stand in front of his mother. Every cow shrunk slightly in their seats, the pups quiet and cowering, and the bulls were tense with unease.

“If you dare to stand against me Gavin I will meet your challenge, otherwise you will stand down and I will not punish you for standing against your Elder.” The warning was delivered in a low voice, slow and steady, but if there was one thing you knew it was that Pappy Rowan was still stronger than Gavin could ever hope to be. Gavin let out a hiss and your Pappy stood up, taller than Gavin by just enough to be noticeable, and Reagan tugged her son’s arm to try and get him to back down.

Sharp and sudden the sound of a ringing phone made you all jump, your hands flying to your pocket, and you took one glance at the name before answering and hurried away from the center of the group.

“Frankie, is everything okay?” You could hear voices in the background, a lot of them, and a low chuckle.

“Yes, the pups are fine and we’re on our way back now. They’re a little underfed but unharmed and we had a medic check them out before you ask.” Frankie sounded so proud and you couldn’t help but smile, relief making your smile wider and brighter, and you grinned at your sisters as they looked at you from where they were sitting.

“Thank you, Frankie, really. That’s amazing news. How soon will you be here?” The soft sound of Will speaking in the background made you giddy with a blend of nerves and excitement.

“We’re turning down the road now, so maybe ten minutes. I also wanted to know if I could talk with you? When we get there?”

“Of course, Frankie. See you in about ten minutes.” As you ended the call you could practically feel the eyes on you.

“Did he-“

“Frankie?”

"What about the-“

With everyone trying to talk at once you had to hold out your hands, a little happy to know that you could silence the pod the way your Nana could, and Riona blushed as she rubbed the back of her head in apology while Marnie and Kara practically danced on their tip toes.

“Frankie and his pack found the pups, they’re a little underfed but not harmed, and they’re on their way back now.” Marnie’s cry of delight was silenced by Gavin’s full bellow of a sound, his clear outrage making you flinch back a step as he began storming toward you, and it wasn’t what you wanted to do but you began backing away from the outraged male even as your grandfather shouted at the man to stop.

Choosing your battles had been something you vaguely remembered your parents teaching you, even though you’d lost them young, and this was definitely one of those situations. You booked it for the door, knowing that leaving was a better choice than trying to hide in your room, and you barely made it out into the road when you began hearing the SUV heading down the path.

Gavin gripped your arm tight in hold, spinning you around to face him, and his other fist was cocked back ready to swing until your grandfather’s grip snatched the bull’s wrist and the back of his neck right as the SUV rounded the bend. You had maybe two seconds of your heart racing as you tried to get out of Gavin’s bruising grip before the door to the SUV practically flew open and Frankie’s outraged howl echoed in the air behind you.

Tags:

@littlemisspascal @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @writeforfandoms @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @princessbatears @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

[rabbitcruiser]

National Love a Tree Day

National Love A Tree Day is celebrated every year on May 16 and it falls right in the middle of Garden for Wildlife Month. Did you know trees actually didn’t exist for the first 90% of Earth’s history? Shocking, isn’t it? Before trees, our Earth had fungi that grew 26 feet tall and resembled trees. Trees have played an irreplaceable role in the smooth functioning of our environment and celebrating this special day dedicated to them is the least we can do to appreciate them.

History of National Love a Tree Day

Trees can be thousands and thousands of years old with many species tending to have long lifespans. In fact, trees can be traced back to the creation of the world, according to the Bible and the story of Adam and Eve who ate the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

From well-preserved cellular anatomy, it has been found that Cladoxylopsida were the first species of large trees to appear on Earth almost 400 million years ago in the Devonian period. The other earliest trees were known to be tree ferns, horsetails, and lycophytes and, currently, it is estimated that there are close to three trillion mature trees in the world.

Trees have so many benefits — they provide us with lumber, food, nuts, oxygen to breathe, home for wildlife, and much more. Trees are even used for ornamental and decoration purposes. In the United States itself, there are approximately 766 million acres of forest land.

Trees form an essential part of our environment and, over the years, their importance has been taught to children growing up. Even in recent times, individuals have become so environmentally conscious that a sustainable lifestyle to protect our trees has become the norm. Most people now want to protect and preserve our trees, which make the world a better and safer place to live in.

While the hunt to find the origins of this day is still on, an entire day of appreciation for trees that have given us so much is the least we can do.

National Love a Tree Day timeline

1800 Christmas Tree Tradition

European nobles and officials adopt and popularize the tradition of setting up evergreen conifer trees in homes for Christmas.

1830 –1860 Joshua Tree’s Name

These plants get their name from Mormon settlers as the shape of the tree’s branches reminds them of a biblical passage wherein Joshua raises his hands to the sky in prayer.

1994 Wollemia Trees Found

A few survivors of these ancient trees that were once thought to be extinct are found living in a temperate rainforest in Australia.

2007 First Tree Fossil

Fossils of probably the first tree, Wattieza, that date back to the middle Devonian period, are found in New York State.

National Love a Tree Day FAQs

What day is Tree Day?

Arbor Day occurs on the last Friday in April.

What is World Tree Day?

World Tree or Forest Day is celebrated annually on 21 March.

How are trees important?

They give us clean water to drink, air to breathe, shade, and food for humans, animals, and plants. They provide habitats for numerous species of fauna and flora, firewood for cooking and heat, materials for buildings and places of spiritual, cultural, and recreational importance.

How To Celebrate National Love a Tree Day

Hug a tree

Plant a tree native to your area

Go for a walk in the woods

Release your inner tree hugger and go hug some trees to show them your love. Make sure you do it in front of some people so you can inspire them to show their love to these gentle giants too!

Do some quick research on trees that are native to your area. Once done, you can go ahead and purchase some seeds for that tree and plant them. Put in an effort to look after it as much as possible and see the fruits of your labor grow, literally.

Trees are a vital part of nature and exist all around us. Why not spend the day among trees to celebrate? Go for a walk in the woods and soak in the beauty of trees.

5 Facts About Trees That Will Blow Your Mind

The oldest tree

Space travel

They save you money

Trees can communicate

Trees are very thirsty

A bristlecone pine tree named Methuselah has lived for more than 4,800 years and is older than the Egyptian Pyramids.

Trees have kind of traveled to space when tree seeds were taken up by Apollo 14 astronauts.

Having a mature tree’s shade near your house can actually help to reduce your home cooling bill by approximately 20% in the summer.

It has been found that trees start producing a chemical called phenolics when they detect an insect raid, which acts as a signal for other trees.

An average tree can drink up to almost 530 gallons of water annually.

Why We Love National Love A Tree Day

Trees keep our streets and homes cooler

It helps to reconnect with Earth

Trees are a habitat for wildlife

Urban areas can get significantly hot and even more so in summer. This is when our loving trees come to the rescue! The shade and water vapor provided by trees can keep urban areas so much cooler. National Love A Tree Day is a perfect opportunity to acknowledge the importance of this green cover.

Planting a tree or simply taking care of existing trees can evoke a sense of belonging with nature. Trees are nature, after all, and spending time with them can help you reconnect with Earth. National Love a Tree Day can be a good place to start if you’ve been feeling a disconnect with nature and life outside of routine work.

Of course, we know that a lot of animals live in the forests and need trees for survival. Trees are home to a diverse range of birds, insects, and mammals. A simple tree will also house hundreds or thousands of small creatures like snakes, frogs, millipedes, ants, termites, spiders, to name a few. National Love a Tree Day helps us appreciate these beauties that are essentially home to so many living beings.

Source

[isagrimorie]

now i’m curious, i agree wholeheartedly with how you think hayley would handle nh!hope (assuming that klaus and elijah were dead), so how would klaus?

i’ve seen some people say he’d let her run wild as long as it made her “happy” (maybe even join her LMAO) and some say he’d essentially be what elijah was to him for hope.

Assuming the factors that Klaus would allow Hope’s turning to happen and being the one to kill Landon — like, the moment Klaus learns Landon’s whole existence is to be Malivore’s vessel he would either be a dead man walking or Klaus will put him somewhere the sun won’t shine. Probably a prison world and he would do it too despite knowing Hope will hate him.

Klaus will wallow in sorrow because of that, he would also try to disappear from his life again before Rebekah or Caroline tracks him down and get him to be an adult.

Or, he would formulate a trap for Malivore, since physical traps are a thing. Place him in a magically indestructible container so whatever monster he lets out won’t even be a factor and then retrieve the Seraturra (an unbreakable lock)from the bottom of the ocean with Tristan and place Malivore there.

Or constantly dive bomb the pit with Hope’s blood, and for good measure, his blood. (Also make it a point to find out which old vampire was responsible for the creation of Malivore— Klaus will be shocked its Aurora).

And right before then Klaus and Alaric would have a little chat. “Since you are the father of the twins my daughter is so very fond of— there will be no threat of physical violence. Yet. But if my daughter is forced to activate her vampire side, a fate I am keen to keep away from her until she is a lot older— sooner than later. Then Mark my works Alaric, this friendly Klaus Mikaelson you’ve come to know will visit upon you all the horrors I used to regularly visit on you and your little Mystic Falls friends—

Hope: “Dad! Seriously???”

(Basically I can’t conceive of any situation where Hayley, Klaus, or Elijah were alive and not Hollow carriers would allow Hope to die at the age of 19/20 years old without exhausting options and handling it in a typical Originals Mikaelson way, tempered by the knowledge that Hope won’t approve).

But, okay, let’s say all the factors did happen while Klaus was away, Hope got herself killed and had to also kill Landon. And by some miracle Klaus didn’t kill Alaric. Although, Hope still beats Alaric into a coma.

Klaus finds out that detail and couldn’t help his smile. A part of him would like to give Hope notes about leaving people alive as a loose end. The voice in his head would kick his shin for thinking that.

The same voice would prompt Klaus to bring up Hayley to Hope. But it’s a low blow that No Humanity Hope doesn’t appreciate.

No Humanity Hope will accuse Klaus of being a hypocrite and basically tell him what she told Rebekah. She just wanted to be free, to be anything she wanted.

Klaus would try to talk some sense into Hope. And draw out from his experience losing Cami.

(There is a part of Klaus though, the part that went on rampages and the part that compelled Stefan’s Humanity away, which is curious how and what kind of damage his daughter will wreak).

It might come to a point where, exasperated, Klaus thinks— if he is around he can mitigate the damages. “Alright, sweetheart, you want to run around and cause mayhem? I won’t stop you. But if you really want to go anywhere enough of this backwoods traipsing. We have an entire world at our disposal.”

Klaus would then revert to that guy, in season 5, where Elijah confronts him about letting Hope torture Roman and his response was: “If Hope kills the boy then she is someone who vanquishes her enemies, like I do. Like you do.”

But this time there is no Elijah to talk sense into Klaus. Fortunately, Rebekah is still around.

So I would say Klaus would initially be in team “let her run wild” before someone (Rebekah) smashes a 2 x 4 wooden plank across his thick skull. And remind him that this should not be the life for Hope.

BTW, some events would play out in a similar way with subtle differences: Aurora de Martel and Klaus will have a confrontation where Aurora puts Klaus in the god coffin. And still manages to trick Hope to switching bodies.

Lizzie still comes after Hope (Klaus and Hope are no longer in Atlanta btw but moving along East coast with the intention of going to Europe) and things still fall the same way.

Except Klaus is in the picture and he is horrified Hope killed Caroline’s daughter. Hope couldn’t care less. And then Lizzie wakes up.

And Klaus realizes that Lizzie is sired to Hope, and his expression would be the exact same one when Caroline accidentally told Klaus about Elena and Damon’s sire bond.

He is relieved Caroline’s daughter lived (“I do have a name, Mr. Mikaelson.”) but also thrilled with the idea his daughter will never be alone now— and has someone she can use as a bodyguard.

No Humanity!Hope: “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Lizzie: “This is a violation of my agency!”

Klaus is smiling at Lizzie, because to him Lizzie is practically an in-law now. A powerful Heretic together with his daughter?

It’s practically a dream situation for Klaus.

“Stop smiling, dad. Even I’m creeped out.”

“Remind me to tell you more about the sire bond when you have your Humanity back.”

“It’s not coming back, I keep telling you.”

Klaus: (Aware Humanity switches don’t turn off forever). “Elizabeth, which blood type would you like to try? AB or O?”

Tldr, Rebekah drags them all back to New Orleans but not before Hope and Lizzie run away to have some Thelma and Louise fun.

And then Klaus tells Rebekah about Hope and Lizzie’s sire bond, like the gossip that he is. Rebekah looks like someone handed her a gift.

Klaus is debating whether to tell Caroline. Caroline finds out for herself, and she isn’t happy.

This is moot when, like in the show, Lizzie breaks the sire bonds.

They all end up in New Orleans, the strongest emotional tie for Hope because of Hayley. And they bring out the Letter again. The one, two punch of Lizzie “betraying” Hope and Hayley’s letter, enough of a way for Real Hope to return.

Edit: I will tell you one thing. The fight with Ken | Zeus would go a little different because Klaus would actually use cunning and strategy and buy time to learn ALL of Ken’s powers before seriously engaging him.

[aoyama-division]

Jet Set Trio Team Dynamics

Despite his habit of wanting to bask in the limelight, Tomi is, more often than not, seen in the back, letting his teammates handle the grunt work. He rarely attacks unless he has to, preferring to preserve his strength. It is only when his opponents are weakened does he take the initiative and attack, wanting to be the one to finish them off. He's the kind of guy who likes to take all the glory despite doing none of the work. Despite that, he does do a good job of getting and keeping his team motivated.

With his impressive muscle mass and strength, Karada, unsurprisingly, functions as the team's defense expert. He can also switch from defense to attack if needed, able to dish out some serious punishment. His only drawback is that he can get distracted pretty easily by the cheers from the crowd, especially after he uses his ability. This often requires either Tomi or Luis to get him back on track so that the team can win.

Luis, (un)surprisingly, is the team's main form of attack. Much like Doppo from Matenro, Luis is fairly calm at the beginning of a match. The longer it goes on, however, the angrier he gets and the more devastating his attacks become. With his hot blood and anger-filled raps, his opponents usually feel as if they are on fire from his blows. The downside to this is, the angrier he gets, the more time it takes to calm him down, meaning he loses control of himself and makes more mistakes often.

— Tomi

Karada to Tomi is his dimwitted, but still positive and well-built acquaintance that he converses with almost on a daily basis. Though Tomi knew Karada by face since he happened to train his mother on occasion, the first time they spoke was at a party that the socialite's parents were hosting. At first, Tomi assumed the man to be nothing more than a simpleton whose brain cells went into his muscles. Upon speaking with him, however, the socialite was surprised to find that, despite how ordinary he seemed, the trainer was fairly knowledgeable about the human body and anatomy. And after learning about the exorbitant fee he charges for his "training sessions", Tomi realized there was more to this man than he originally thought.

From that day forth, the two have been good companions. And though Tomi can get annoyed with Karada from time to time, he either quickly gets over it or just rolls with it. In Rap Battles, Tomi hides behind Karada, who acts as a shield for him. After the bodybuilder dishes out enough punishment, Tomi comes from behind to finish them off.

Luis to Tomi is his hot-tempered, yet respectable acquaintance. The two were introduced to each other by Karada, though both knew each other due to their families. At first, Tomi was put off by the chef's disrespectful attitude, as well as his tolerance for people of lower status, finding it disgusting. Only after he tasted the Hispanic chef's food did his disliking turn into a sort of tolerance. From that day forth, Tomi placed Luis into his inner circle, whether he wanted to or not. Though he dislikes Luis' smart-aleck remarks and sarcastic wit, the socialite can't help but respect the chef for being able to match him word for word. In Rap battles, Tomi frequently incites Luis, getting him more and more upset so that he can unleash his anger and rage on the enemy; he usually finishes them off with Tomi having to do no work at all, not that he's complaining.

— Karada

Tomi to Karada is his respectable, high-born friend that he likes to emulate and hang around with. Despite the fact that his snobby and arrogant attitude puts people off, Karada actually likes Tomi's ways, finding them enlightening. He respects Tomi's way of living and envies the fact that he wasn't born into money like him. The two created a budding friendship after meeting each other at a soiree. Afterwards, Karada showed Tomi his impressive collection of trophies and awards he won in numerous bodybuilding contests, which, even Tomi, had to admit was impressive. From that day on, the two have gotten along fairly well. And despite a few disagreements, they do respect each other. In Rap Battles, Karada functions as Tomi's shield, not letting anything or anyone get to him without going through him. Though he won't admit it, a part of Karada likes Tomi in the back because it means he doesn't have to share the limelight with him.

Luis to Karada is his lifelong friend and buddy whom he both values and trusts. The two met while during Karada's first year of high school. After helping to fend away some bullies that were bothering him, Karada took Luis under his wing and taught him to have more confidence in himself. Though it was a long process, eventually Karada got the giant Hispanic to open up more and be more accepting of his height and size, for which Luis is thankful. This started a lifelong friendship between the two, one which is almost impossible to break. A part of Karada envies Luis for the relationship he has with his grandmother, as it reminds him of how horribly he treated his grandfather. In Rap Battles, Karada and Luis work together to obliterate their opponents. Karada protects Luis from getting hit, allowing the Hispanic chef time to counterattack.

— Luis

Tomi to Luis is his arrogant and overbearing acquaintance that he claims he can only handle in "small doses". The two were introduced to each through Karada, and from his first appearance, Luis knew he wasn't going to like Tomi. His manner of speaking and the arrogant air he had only helped to prove Luis right. However, after tasting his food once, Tomi continued to show up at Luis's restaurant. Eventually, the two got to talking, and before long, a tolerance formed between the two. And though he can often get annoyed with Tomi's arrogance and his way of doing things, he still has some sort of loathing respect for him. In truth, it is only due to Karada that Luis made an effort to get to know Tomi. If not for him acting as the middleman, Luis would never have befriended Tomi under any circumstances. In Rap Battles, Luis looks out for Tomi in most cases, though he doesn't protect him near as well or as much as Karada does.

Karada to Luis is his friend that, though he can get annoyed with him, truly does respect and value him. It was Karada who helped Luis learn to be more confident in himself and to stop lashing out at the world. In return, Luis helped Karada to study and pass his senior year after he had been held back. Their relationship is somewhat similar to that of Hifumi and Doppo of Shinjuku: though Karada can often get him into some awkward and avoidable situations, Luis is still glad and fortunate to have him around, though he'll never say that out loud. In Rap Battles, Luis and Karada work in tandem with each other, with the Hispanic chef usually following up with a hit after the bodybuilder. Plus, Luis is usually the one who gets Karada to focus back on the battle when he starts showboating.

[hotwings0203]

An Ode to the Unseen

Thinkin about readers who feel self conscious, readers who feel like they’re not happy with their weight, readers who don’t feel girly enough or feel too vulnerable because of whatever height they’re at. I’m thinkin about readers who suffer from body dysmorphia, who shy away from looking at themselves in the mirror to avoid seeing their scars, body hair or acne. This is for the readers who feel too submissive and feel like a pushover in their lives, and this is for the readers who feel like they’re too fiesty and not soft enough. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you can’t relate to the stereotypical tropes in writing, or if you feel like you can’t act like a perfectly constructed Y/N in real life, this ones for you💖

A/N: Hello to all reading! I made this on a whim just to tackle some of the insecurities lesser described characters in stories might feel, but this is in no way meant to exclude anyone at all! We all have beautiful bodies, and should own up to it even if we don’t always see the problems we face in writing. Some of these topics might be sensitive to readers or trigger memories that might be disturbing to others, so please heed the warnings! Also the Hawks prompt at the end gets pretty nsfw, so heads up for that hehe

CW: dubcon, manipulating, fluff, slight angst, EDs, body dysmorphia, kidnapping, abuse, degradation, some nsfw, yandere, language, insecurity

You’re ever feeling not particularly happy with your face or body because of an acne breakout, or a rash that won’t go away? Maybe a birthmark that you try to cover up with makeup? Even stretch marks or scars from surgery?

You can bet your ass shigaraki will notice the way you can barely glance at the mirror some days just so you don’t have to see your own reflection when it’s time to go to bed with him.

His obvious and intense stare makes you fidget and gets your skin crawling, but he says nothing that night when he holds you a little too tightly-tighter than most nights he’s with you. The sound of his raspy breaths lulls you to sleep, but when you wake up he’s already gone, out on another mission or at a meeting with the Yakuza.

You feel groggy and gross, and going to the bathroom just to look in the mirror again to see whatever ails your body and/or face does nothing to stop your groan of misery.

You do your business all while turning away from your reflection, not wanting to see a second more of your discontentment staring right back at you while you wash your face, brush your teeth, and meticulously do your hair.

Finally making your way downstairs to the bar, you sit on one of the barstools and hold your head in your hands, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze and no doubt seeing their disgust at your ailment.

But you look up when a soft whirring sound and purple-black tendrils of smoke appear before you

“Young master L/N,” Kurogiri says. “Have you been feeling alright? You retired earlier last night and had the most uncomfortable of expressions on your face, I couldn’t help but notice.”

No matter how much you despised or were wary of Tomura, you knew his caretaker, Kurogiri, had your back. He was respectful of your space, and if he knew you weren’t in the mood for talking then he wouldn’t push you

And so you told him your predicament, opening up about your problem spot(s)

“It’s so embarrassing, Kurogiri. I feel gross and I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” you mumble, putting your head down on the cool polished wood countertop.

He’s silent for a moment or two, before the tendrils of his supposed hands warp into a small portals. They appear again immediately, producing a couple of bottles and place them in front of you.

You raise your head slightly at the sound of sloshing liquid and rattling pills as the bottles are lined up before you in an orderly fashion, and you eye them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” You ask, picking up a tube as your curiosity is piqued.

“Young master Tomura Shigaraki had warned me beforehand of your reclusive nature when you ponder on what cannot be controlled, and sent me a list this morning to pick up some medication that might help you, should you need it. He asked me to bring back every item as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t feel the need to procure anything by yourself and strain yourself unnecessarily.”

You scoff, not buying the surprising act of affection. “So, what, he’s just doing this so he doesn’t have to look at my disgusting (body part of choice) anymore? He wants to come back and see some perfectly molded pet to stare at all day?”

Kurogiri shakes his head, however.

“I know how the young master is perceived to many: abrasive, immature, and brash in his thoughts and actions. He has a long way to go in terms of maturing in the way he views things, and unfortunately he was not blessed with…the best of upbringings, so he truly doesn’t know any better, as you already know.”

You wince internally, feeling slightly guilty now.

“But,” he continues slowly, “he was not born with evil in his heart. He’s just bitter with society, and is desperate for others to know his pain and see the world for what it really is towards those who are suffering. That’s why he is so taken with you, young L/N. Before you came here, he observed your mannerisms and was thoroughly attracted to the way you could see through people’s surface level facades. Although your views on the world may differ here and there, he is desperate to show you that he understands your suffering, and that he’s there for you-“

“-yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you mutter darkly, memories of chains and dark rooms and various marks on your body flashing through your mind. Even if Kurogiri was telling the truth, it would take some time for you to come around and even begin to try to give yourself to Shigaraki. He was just too volatile, too rough and negligent of your wants and needs. He lashed out at everything you did, and made you feel like nothing you ever did was enough to please his shifty nature.

“Yes, I can understand you bitter feelings towards him,” the black and purple mass hummed in thought. “I have tried explaining how a human girl is to be treated, however, and he is slowly trying to learn. I feel as though he may feel embarrassed at times from his lack of knowledge at such simple social norms, and that is another factor of his frequent temper tantrums. He might be the leader of a powerful villain organization, but when he realizes he has no knowledge of making friends or keeping relationships, it’s an embarrassing blow to his ego. Especially with you, he is especially sentimental and touchy regarding topics that pertain to you. He often will sit here in silence after you two have a, uh, little spat, and hesitantly will seek my advice on how to make things up to you. ”

And you realize with a grimace that he’s right-there are days after you both have a big blowout(usually over the most pettiest of things, maybe you turned away from him while sleeping and he took it as a sign of disobedience, or maybe you didn’t greet him when he came back from an especially tiring mission and he used that opportunity to take his pent up stress out on you) that he’ll come back after storming out of the room only to creep back in hours later with various trinkets in his hand.

You’d be alerted of his presence when the pitch black room is blessed with a yellow ray of light from the opening creaky door as he enters, and you will yourself to continue breathing slowly, as if you were still asleep. But he’s so quiet and stealthy as he comes closer to you, it’s hard not to be surprised and flinch or jump when his arm reaches over you just to place one of your favorite snacks on the cracked dresser next to you.

It’s hard to keep your head down on the dusty pillow and keep your curiosity in check when you feel him breathing down your neck as he lays a stuffed animal on the blanket next to you, and you often wonder where he knows to buy such fragile and innocent things.

Your aesthetic that he so closely has memorized from each singular color to the details of your favorite patterns make a stark, disturbing contrast to his greying, deadly aura. It’s almost impressive that he pertains each gift to your taste when he’s feeling especially sorrowful

“But nevertheless, the master has asked me relinquish these to you as soon as you came downstairs. And, just between me and you,” he leans closer and you do too, finding yourself wanting to know this secret side of your captor even further, “he was muttering something as he left, something along the lines of not wanting you to feel like you had to use these products. I think he was trying to say that he never wants you to feel as though you have to make up any part of your body you feel insecure about to him. He wants you to stay the same way you always are, and if you never adjust to your surroundings here, then he at the very least wants you to be comfortable in your own skin, blemishes and all.”

“This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but he himself knows what it’s like to feel insecure about his own skin and body,” and it comes across so ridiculously innocent and striking to you that such a lethal character such as the infamous Shigaraki would have the same problems a normal, functioning member of society would have: skincare and body insecurity. But the lines, scratches, and scars that litter his face can attest to this notion. How often did he himself avoid looking in the mirror for, not wanting to see his translucent skin, the clawmarks that left bright, angry trails up his face and down the sides of his neck, the cracks in and around his lips and eyes? Is that why he left his hair down skit covered his face, and the hand on top covering him whole more often on than not?

And so you finally open the lid to the tube, testing the feel of its contents that promise your mutinous skin some time of relief.

The door suddenly bangs open, and the man of the hour himself slinks in, nails idly scratching the underside of his jaw as he mutters under his breath to himself.

He lifts his head and sees you and kurogiri at the bar, a tube of ointment in your hand , the lid opened in testing as the rest of his presents are in array all around you.

As if you were accepting them.

As if you were accepting him

He feels his face beat up and his deteriorating body starts to prickle and sweat. He merely scratches harder, his mumbling continuing as he slowly makes his way over to you

You watch his little unsure shuffled towards you, and you can’t help it when your heart twinges as you take in his hopeful yet cautious expression, no matter how hard he tries to stifle any vulnerable emotion

So, in a moments decision of truce you quickly lean forward to whisper to Kurogiri one last favor before turning to see a new light of your captor

“Before I go, I need some things from you, please. By tonight, do you think you could pick up some self care things at the corner store for me? I’m talking face masks, lotions, Vaseline, and hair products.”

“I think if I see him accept himself and care for the body he’s in least for one night, I could be happy in my skin, too.”

Feeling conscious about your weight, whether it’s over or under your preferred look? Please, don’t make Kiri laugh at your naivety

You groaned as you stood on the scale, the numbers reading back at you seeming more mocking than simple statistics

You weren’t meeting your preferred weight, and it was beginning to take a harsher toll on you now more than ever with Kiri around all the time

It was easier to ignore it when you lived by yourself in secluded bliss, where the walls of where you lived couldn’t talk or pass judgement about your eating habits, the times you did or didn’t keep up with yourself as months of promising to do the Chloe Ting workouts turned into forgetful reminders that dwindled down into barely passing thoughts.

Where you had your own, carefully chosen friends who could relate and share the secrets of their insecurities, the little area of pudge that just won’t go away, that upper area of their arms of legs that refused to build muscle even after months of eating straight protein and going to the gym.

You got to choose your own happiness, you got to choose if you wanted to spend countless hours scrolling through social media with your coworkers, gazing in envy at the hundreds of models people swooned over, or if you wanted to call it a day and eat a whole bucket of cookies and cream ice cream while watching a sappy rom com, just because it made you happy

But now, not so much

You could tolerate Kiri gradually distancing yourself from friends who he thought didn’t have the “best interests” for you

You could patiently follow the chipper rules of his house to wait for him when he got home, greet him at the door in nice clothes, and sit down to eat dinner with him

You even started getting used to having his eccentric, loud friends over who bustled and teased you around when Kiri invited them over for a boys night even if that “boys night” ended in them being hurriedly ushered out as he caught a glimpse of you in an accidentally-provocative apron

But your sanity and self worth was slowly started to snap like an overstretched rubber band when it came to trusting your body. Your mutinous, betraying body that just didn’t do what you fucking wanted it to do, that was constantly compared to the models friends Kirishima would bring around, like Mina and Jirou

They were angels, of course, so, so sweet to you

Constantly reassuring you that the new dress your captor boyfriend practically shoved you in in his eagerness to see you in red (his color) fit oh so well on you

They tried to convince you that no, the dress wasn’t stretched too tight on you to be considered healthy, and no, it didn’t need to be shrank in some places either

They tried, they really did

Unfortunately for them however, their relentless support didn’t hold a candle’s light to the body builders and Pilates instructors Kiri would model with for health magazines almost every month

They could never understand what it was like to be in constant doubt and shame when you feel your seemingly mismatched figure, their bodies reflecting healthy proportions in every nook and corner, skin and smooth and soft as a baby’s, with glowing reflections of perspiration

And you always seemed like the only poor unfortunate soul who sat in the corner, sulking and watching ripped muscles and leaned, toned limbs mingle amongst each other to socialize and effortlessly slide inside various apparel that of course fit their body and shaped them in ways you couldn’t even dream of

And it didn’t help that night after night, Kiri would hold you on his lap, bouncing his eager knee as he shoveled bite after bite of food into your unwilling mouth

He infantilized the hell out of you, convinced you were too naive and self-loathing to see your true beauty and how he had to take it on himself to show you what he saw in you

It made you feel pathetic, and helpless. Maybe that’s what you were though, maybe that’s really what he was trying to show you

You felt like you deserved it, anyways

So you stand there, on the weighing machine, feeling the last shreds of self confidence slip down and out of your body, akin to the light tears that splash on the marble bathroom floor.

“Babe? What’re you doing?”

Aw, fuck

You quickly brushed away your tears and stifled your imminent sobs to avoid being coddled as usual by the gentle giant who stood behind you

It frustrated him to no end, no doubt. It didn’t matter how often he’d sit you down and kiss you all over, letting you know how much he loved every precious inch of your body, it didn’t matter how gently he’d cradle your face to force you to look into his eyes just to tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky he is to have kidnapped you

It was never enough for your fragile heart, and he saw it in the way you flinched under his praise and shrunk under his loving gaze that raked over your body that he compared to an angel’s

As if you thought he was a liar, just saying it for your sake

As if you didn’t believe his words, as if you didn’t want to believe his words

As if you were disobeying him

“It-its nothing Kiri, just PMS,” you mumbled, the snot in your nose making you sound nasaly and shaky

“Your period was two weeks ago, and none of your symptoms have ever made you throw up.” He says with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe

So he did see you slip out after dinner and head straight for the toilet, huh?

Busted

If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve ditched the mild tone kept up for your sake and had you bent over one knee with a red ass just for lying to him

But from the way you quickly step off the scale and attempt to squeeze past him tells him you aren’t just being hard-to-get, you’re not in one of your resistance fits

And he thinks he knows exactly what’s causing you to not-so-subtly shift your eyes from the weighing scale back to your own body, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for weeks now

He just has to make sure

“Did someone say something to you?” He catches your arm and gently yet firmly prevents you from slipping past him outside the bathroom, away from him

“No, no, seriously I just felt sick, I think I ate something weird,” you try to laugh breezily but the waver in your voice does nothing but further increase Kirishima’s aching heart for you

“You sure? ‘Sure I don’t need to go talk to someone who maybe said the wrong thing to you?” And although his cheerful voice holds nothing but playful jest, the dark glint in his eye does nothing to indicate that all he wants is a friendly talk, especially when he tightens his grip on your arm and pulls you so close that you’re nose to nose with him, looking right at him with tears eyes and flushed cheeks

There’s no point in pretending anymore. He might seem like an airhead, but he’s not one of the city’s top hero because of his airy, gentle nature

“Ugh, no Kiri, no one said anything to me. I just…” you trail off, not wanting to feel the inevitable embarrassment you’ll feel when you tell him the truth

How disgusting you feel when you see his buff, toned, chiseled body that’s akin to a Greek God’s compared to yours

How you long to secretly have the right figure to one day be worthy enough to be deemed his partner in a modeling gig, just once, just to feel like you’re worthy of him and his equivalently built body, a body that reflects hard work and perseverance

Something you seldom see or feel in your own mass of distorted limbs

“What is it?” He pleads softly, begging you to let him fix anything for you, to let him be a man good enough for you

You look into his ruby red eyes that hold a puppy-in-love expression, and when you find only adoration for you in them, you can’t help yourself for falling into the trust and care you so desperately want in that moment

“I’m…so tired of not feeling good about myself. About feeling overweight, underweight, seeing bits of pudge and flab in one area and then seeing some thin and gangly areas in others. Like, I just want my body to be normal, to be healthy like all the people you model with. I feel like nothing I do or eat or wear makes my body look how I want it to look, and no matter how much I try it’s so hard for me to see the beauty of what you see in it.”

And finally you can’t bear looking at him anymore, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away

Much to his credit, he pulls you in and nestles your head against his chest, letting your tears and snot wet his tank top

“Oh hun, is that all this is?”

You roll your eyes and try to pull back from his chest, but he doesn’t allow it as he simply holds you there, shushing you and rocking you back and forth

“Kiri, that’s a pretty big thing for me.”

“I know, but…why are you so concerned about how they look anyways? I mean, that’s their job, right? To look good for pictures!”

“I don’t understand,” your voice comes out muffled against his shirt.

“What I’m saying is,” he chuckles and soothes a hand through your hair, “is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to people that have nothing to do with your daily life. Like, you wouldn’t compare yourself to a firefighter right? ‘Cuz thats their job, to save people, not yours. Similarly with models and shit, that’s their job to look good. You didn’t sign up to be a model, so you shouldn’t stress yourself to look like them. Plus, it’s not like it has any affect on what kind of person you are on the inside, you feel me? I’ve met some pretty nasty and rude people with killer bodies, but can you guess how much respect I had for them?”

You nod slowly, still not fully grasping his confusing logic but sort of getting the underlying meaning to it

“But it’s hard not to compare my body to theirs when you’re constantly around them.” You admit. “It feels like I’m not good enough either to be next to you when I’m just sitting on my ass, not doing anything” You grip his shirt and let the last of your tears out, accepting his soft and heavy hands stroking against your back and up and down your shoulders

“So? Do you ever see Sero or Denki modeling next to me? Or Mina and Jirou?”

He did have a point.

“No,” you say slowly.

“Exactly, because models and bodybuilders have a job to dedicate themselves to a life of working out. They do it because that’s what a majority of their life goes to get paid for. It’s all superficial, that’s not how the average person is, like the friends I mentioned. Otherwise the whole world would be full of people walking around with ripped abs and giant pecs. Could you imagine some lanky dude like Denki sporting a 12-pack and ripped pecs?”

“Hell no,” you laugh breathlessly, the image so horrifying to you both that you feel the vibrations of his boisterous laughter rumble through you and soothe your emotions.

“Now you’re getting it,” he speaks into your hair, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses and getting him dizzy along with a treacherously rising boner

“Plus, what kind of man would I be if I picked my girl out just because of the way she looked? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful-no, beautiful can’t even begin to describe you. Your palms feel so soft compared to mine, your arms are so beautiful when my hands are wrapped around them, your thighs are just the right size, your stomach is such a comfy pillow for me to lay on, and don’t forget your plush, slick, tight pu-“ he rambles on and you can’t help but yelp and clap a hand over his overworked mouth as his shower of body positivity starts turning more lewd…attesting to the bulge you begin to feel pressing against your leg.

But it’s funny, you can’t seem to find yourself being mad at him as your face flushes and you see not ill-intent and perverseness in his warm eyes, but pure and honest devotion to you and to the words he truly means

It softens your heart, and you use a finger from the hand smushing against his mouth to lift and stroke the side of his cheek, conveying your gratitude to him.

It seems he understands, as he takes his forced moment of silence with patience and just looks at you, hoping this time you could really see what he felt for you.

“The thing is,” he says after a minute, gently taking your hand away and turning you around so that you both were facing the mirror, “I love you because of who you are. If I wanted to date some model, I would’ve done it by now, trust me,” and you swat your hand against his chest as he stifles a laugh and turns you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t take you just for your body. I took you because of the way you smile, the way your laugh is so soft sometimes and then all roudy and crazy and loud the next. I love you because of how passionate you talk about the things you like, the way you deal with problems, the way you treat others. All these things make me want you, so damn bad.”

He lightly rocks his hips into your backside so you can really feel how much he wants you, and you let out a soft gasp

He doesn’t let you move, however, he just holds one wrist in his meaty palm and holds your jaw in the other, positioning you so that you meet his wondrous gaze in the clear reflection.

He knew he was never known to be the smartest in his class, having Bakugo drag him by the teeth to pass class itself, so he hoped you could overlook his lack of vocabulary that so desperately was trying to tell you that loving you went even beyond anything he could barely articulate.

Leaning towards your ear, his breath tickles your lobe as his sharp teeth graze over your goosebump-riddled flesh.

“And if it takes all night to show you how much you and your perfect body mean to me, I’ll gladly take out any words that don’t do the job and show you physically how I feel. And just the way you are, too.”

If there’s one man who could not give one less of a fuck about how dainty, small, feminine, or easy to handle you may or not be, it’s the birdman himself: Hawks

Running errands with him when he allowed it was hell, though it should’ve been a paradise you felt owed for.

It was bad enough that when you hesitantly asked him what would look good enough to wear when you walked next to him as the Number Two hero’s captive girlfriend, he merely shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Which was not of any help, due to his excessive mood swings and possessiveness spiking at the most seemingly harmless things, such as you talking to the checkout worker at a branded store, wearing a skirt that he deemed was for “sluts who put out for attention”, or even not looking directly at him enough when he was talking to you.

So just to play it safe, you decided to wear jeans and a cute blouse, one that you thought did well for your figure and yet remained modest enough for Keigo’s liking.

He gave you a warning look before opening the door outside, silently telling you to behave yourself in public

You always did, of course.

It was never enough to keep him less suspicious of you regardless.

Deciding to bag some groceries first, he kept a tight grip with your hand as you both inconspicuously tried to navigate the winding back alleys, avoiding people and waiting in intervals to pass the street

He had a black cap on with a red feather embroidered at the top, sunglasses and a beige and white jacket that had a high collar for covering his face-you might be lucky to have the freedom to wear what you wanted to a certain extent but Hawks wasn’t so lucky

His wings, of course, couldn’t be concealed regardless of what he wore

The two of you luckily manage to snag a few stores here and there, the groceries in both his and your arms weighing down on your bodies, his feathers doing little aid to help when his wings started sagging under the bulk as well

Which is where you both were finally caught by a gaggle of fangirls

You passed the cafe they gathered around outside, and barely had time to register their squints of suspicion at Hawks and his poorly-shrunken vermillion wings before you heard squeals of recognition coming from their group a couple feet back

He swore under his breath, crushing your hand in a death grip and attempting to speed up further away from them

But the Number Two hero wasnt fast enough for his own good, this time

It was almost inhuman how quickly they caught up to you and swarmed around, effectively cutting you two off from trying to escape

They shoved papers, phones, various body parts and markers in his face, trying to get him to sign each and every article they had on themselves

And poor you were caught in the midst of it, being carelessly jostled around as each girl tried to force her way closer to him

The volume of their excited devotion and praise of him was making your head hurt, and you wondered how Hawks was managing to put up such a flawless, easygoing smile and responding to all their questions and comments without having a panic attack or snapping at them

After a minute or two of pure chaos, with the help of numerous feathers the hero-now-victim finished most of the autographs.

“Well, girls, thank you so much for your support and time, but me and my lady should get going now-“

“-wait, that’s your girlfriend?” One asks pointing at you in disbelief

You give her a weak smile and little wave

“Yup, the one and only!” Hawks beams at you with pride, holding you in an endearing headlock

“Wow…you guys are so cute!” Another chimes in after a few moments of silence, and you try your hardest not to fall into your same old patterns, to not embrace your old thoughts and insecurities with such open arms

But old habits die hard, and they certainly aren’t dead yet

Especially when the first girl thrusts a shiny phone at you, fluttering her lashes and baring her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Would you be a dear and take a picture of all of us with him?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah, no problem.” You decide that getting this whole ordeal over quicker would be the best option for you

But as quick as you want this to pass, you can’t help but take an extra second to see the difference in your hands and hers when you take the phone from her hand

While her smooth, small and soft hands are seemingly unmarked, her acrylics accentuating her feminine form, you feel as though your larger ones should hide in shame in comparison

You’re not a slob, not by any means when you go out with him. But what was previously just you feeling comfortable in your own skin of knuckle hair, cuticles here and there, and nails bitten short from the cold stand anxiety of living with such a volatile man starts to turn into a realization of how different you are to these people who are trimmed to perfection

You shake off the sinking feeling in your heart and back up with the phone as the rest of the girls and Keigo line up for posing

The details in the phone camera do nothing to ease your growing timidity

The screen reflects what you see right in front of you- smooth hair, not a frizzy strand in sight blowing with the wind, perfectly manicured hands that are so delicate and small compared to your boyfriends’ gripping his upper arms, desperate to feel the hero’s assets.

They’re all at a perfect height with him too, the heels and boots they wear so easily lining them up at his chest level so they have a perfect view of his pecs and upwards

All of them are so beautiful and uniform, so dainty and careful with themselves. If one of them said that they were dating Hawks, you’d believe that they were worthy of it too

You snap the picture and hand the device over, trying to hide your trembling bottom lip and frigid hands

The girls thank Hawks a plethora of times, give you some once-overs as well as slight sneers and faux waves, and you both head on your way back home again

You’re quiet that night while making dinner

It’s chicken pad thai, one of his favorite dishes handmade by you

No matter how shit you feel your cooking is, he insists you make him a 3 course meal while he takes a shower, leaving a feather behind to watch over you

Usually it’s fine, usually you ignore or absentmindedly swat away the plumage’s less-than-innocent rendezvous trailing around your body, floating behind your neck to tickle you, “accidentally “ falling in your shirt or wedging itself down your pants (no doubt commanded so by Hawks)

But today, it’s silent and still, precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as it observed and picks up the various sounds and vibrations of your movement as you bustle around the kitchen

It picks up on the way you chop the onions a little too aggressively with your large, clumsy fucking hands

Another reminder of how different you are than the average Hawks Fangirl ™

How they sashay and swing their hips around in a perfect circle when approaching him, while you stumble and trip over your own damn feet, the epitome of clumsiness and gracelessness

The feet which never endow heels or boots often because of the height difference it gives you and Keigo, because of the way you try desperately to adorn different slouches and postures to not look so out of place and awkward around him

And while you’re stirring the pasta in its sauce, the feather also picks up on the rhythm of your shattered heart

Shattered so when you remember how the girls sneered at you because you weren’t femme fatale like them, how you just stood there like a fucking mannequin while they cooed well placed praise, and how eloquent sentences flowed from their tongue like honey

You could only wish you ever spoke like they did, or adopted any of their mannerisms that seemed so natural and effortless like them

Your aching heart thudded dully while you scrutinized your miserable self, and flared up into a kicking rate when you realized you shouldn’t even care what your captor or any of his fan girls thinks

In fact, this was all his fault.

You slammed your mixer down, tapping your fingers against the countertop deep on thought

The vibrations the feather picked up was the last straw of its patience, as it alerted its owner to come and address you

Mumbling under your breath at your predicament, you banged around pots and spoons in your anger, failing to notice the plumage silently join its approaching owner, the water from his shower dripping down his wet shoulders and hair

“What’s goin’ on chickadee? It sounds like you’re tryina’ tear down the kitchen.”

You barely spare him a glance over your shoulder as you take in his bare torso, only a towel wrapped around his midriff

“Nothing. Just finishing up dinner,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like your hearts racing a mile a minute. So I’ll ask you again- what are you so upset?”

He yanks a stirring spoon from your hand and uses his grand wings to turn you towards him, a condescending pout on his face as he amusedly takes in your furrowed eyebrows, heated up cheeks and shaking fists.

He wants to keep pushing me? Fine, then I can play his little game

“You wanna know why I’m upset? I’m upset because I’m here against my will, creating problems for myself that I never even wanted in the first place!”

You jab a finger into his chest and his eyes narrow at your impertinent tone.

“Now wait a sec’-“ but you cut him off immediately, nose to nose with him now as you continue to blare at him

“I’m upset because I never feel fucking good enough for my kidnapper. How pathetic is that? Any time I have to beg you on all fours like a fucking dog to go outside I end up regretting it, ‘cause all I see is how flawed I am!”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes now, actually bewildered at the turn your ranting came to. So it’s not just about being kept here against your will, you’re actually upset about not feeling good enough for him?

“Those girls today…they were so perfect and feminine and beautiful and they had such small fucking hands that would fit perfectly in yours like mine never do, and perfectly pedicured feet, and had such pretty voices, fuck, I mean I’d date them too if I were you!”

You ignore the rage and bafflement in his expression, he looks at you like you’re crazy and maybe for the moment you are as you keep mouthing off to him

“So why don’t you, huh? I mean I only go out with you a couple times a year, but you see them almost every day! Girls who have hair that flows like goddamn waterfalls, girls who you could pick up and throw around so easily or at least girls you’re not embarrassed of.”

“I’m clumsy, I can’t walk with grace, I’m not at a height that’s easy for you to look at me with or thats even considered sexy, I probably don’t even weigh anything around you that people would call worthy of being some fit bitch for you!”

At this, you sink to your knees in front of him, almost spent out. You can’t bear for him to see your face, no doubt scrunched up in tears and snot with mussed strands hovering around your face like you just got electrocuted.

Another thing to ridicule yourself about, a fucking crying face. You don’t want him to see another ugly trait about you that he no doubt will snicker about behind your back.

“Isn’t that why you never let me out? Because I’m not cute or good material for tabloids, right? I don’t look good enough or act right for the Number Two hero, and that’s why you’re embarrassed, right? It’s been so long since I tried to last leave so I know you trust me-that means the only reason you hate going out with me and covering yourself up is because you can’t stand to be seen with such a fugly-“

“That’s enough.” His cold voice booms louder than yours, and you startle at that.

“Look at me, Y/N.” The tone at which he speaks leaves no room for argument, but when you continue to look down he snarls and detaches a feather, forcing your head up with it.

“You keep calling yourself all these things, but don’t tell me that moronic is another word you’re gonna add on, right? I mean you can’t possibly be that stupid enough to believe all those things you just said.”

You glare at him, sure that this was just a way for him to get you to shut up.

“I thought living with the Number Two hero would let some intellect rub off on you, but I guess it’s the complete opposite, if anything. Because you seem to have forgotten your place in my house.”

You yelp when suddenly a multitude of other feathers zoom towards you, pulling at your limbs and clothes as they lift you into the air, suspended to a height a couple of feet above Hawks’ eye level.

He just stands there with an eerie smirk on his face as he watches you flail around midair, trying to regain your balance.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re 6’3 and have bigger hands than me.”

With a flick of his finger, the feathers are directed to slam your body into the ground, leaving you wheezing on your back.

“And it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’7 and fall over yourself every time I call for you.”

He stands above you now, hands in his pockets and he smiles down at your curled up body. You look at him cautiously, unsure of what he’s playing at.

“You’re mind because I want you. I want everything about you, your heart, your mannerisms, your soul, your movements-they all belong to me and only me.”

He crouches down to a kneel, gently running a hand through your hair before turning it into a fist and yanking your head up to face him.

“And there isn’t a goddamn thing that’s gonna stop me from having you, when I want, and how I want. You think you have a chance of leaving me, or me leaving you when I, in your words, ‘go out and see beautiful girls like that all the time?’ If I haven’t left you for them by now, I sure as hell never will.”

You decide for now to take the backhanded compliment about being able to leave in silence. In a messed up way, he was proving his loyalty, and right now you needed all the reassurance you could get.

“And why the hell do you care how you look in public anyways, huh? Are you trying to seduce someone?”

You frantically object, and he sneers at your desperation. “Good, because it should only matter what I think, and you wanna know what I think?”

You stare at him wide eyed now as he pulls your head closer to him

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you think you’re some foxy slut or if you feel like a clumsy oaf. Because you wanna know why?”

He starts unzipping his fly with a handy feather, and you mentally berate yourself for pushing him to a point where he has to ‘prove his love’ to you, knowing where this was heading.

“Because when you’re sucking my cock or lying underneath me, it doesn’t matter how tall or short you are. When I tell you to take your clothes off and hump my foot like the good little bitch in heat you are, I don’t care how much you weigh. I’m still choosing you to be my fuckmeat, my obedient play-toy when I want, and I’m doing it with all your ‘flaws’, aren’t I? ”

You cringe when his tongue flicks out against your earlobe and down your jaw, your endeavors of trying to shove him away proving fruitless as he just snarls and bites your neck.

“Even if you think you don’t have the prettiest, smallest, biggest, or smoothest hands, they’re still the hands I’m choosing to play with my balls, yeah? I mean, you should be proud of your fucking sexy and lewd body…look at what it does to me.”

He gestures to his exposed member now which is hard against your thigh. You bite back a whimper as he begins to tear open your shirt with one free hand as the other slips down your pants.

“So be a good girl and show me how proud you are of being mine.”