#but not top three. those i’ll take to the grave

[basedandlovepilled]

i still don’t even know what the emotion is that i felt when i heard my brother stole my stories of abuse and being molested to get sympathy points from people. never trust a male with ur traumatic stories cus they literally will just steal that shit

[waltricia]

Bridgerton season 2 episode 3, “A Bee in Your Bonnet” is ✨magic✨ and let me tell you why.

For those of us who didn’t read the book and knew nothing of what was going to happen, we truly went on an incredible and surprising roller coaster of an experience.

We start the episode with seeing the guy from Hellboy and being like ‘oh yay, it’s the guy from Hellboy!’

… only for him to die three minutes later. And that scene is rough. It’s sudden and abrasive. And the sounds are jarring. The death is scored by tense strings. Then a moment of quiet. Then the AMAZING Ruth Gemmell begins taking us on Violet’s traumatic grief journey, which starts with her jolting Anthony (and us) out of the quiet.

And a thunderous heartbeat threatens him as he walks toward this entirely altered, unwanted life path. And that’s obviously the beginning of his PTSD.

In the other flashbacks throughout the episode, we continue to hear horrific, heart-rending pain radiate out of Violet while Anthony must not only attempt to endure it, but cover his own grief. Anthony and his siblings (and again, we the audience) all have to listen to Violet grieve while she’s giving birth! Screams on top of screams.

And the last flashback is technically quiet, but just as devastating because, like the moment of Edmund’s death, the quiet is weaponized. It signifies the death inside Violet.

It should go without saying that Jonathan Bailey is also a brilliant actor, but I’ll say it now anyway. Damn, he good! He and Ruth partnered perfectly in this grief journey. Serious props to them both because I felt this shit.

And then finally we come to the end. We had been immersed in the horrible aftermath of that striking tragedy. Between the flashbacks- in the present day- we had followed Anthony through the rooms and grounds where he had suffered silently. We had seen Edmund’s grave. We had learned that Anthony’s greatest fears and insecurities all stemmed from that tragic event ten years prior.

And then another fucking bee comes along.

And I swear to god, the first time I watched this, when Kate got stung, my heart was pounding, I was terrified, and my instinctive reaction was “oh my god, is she going to die?!” In hindsight, it’s obviously insane to think that she would be killed off at all, let alone in this scene. But the very fact that, for a moment, that was a legitimate fear I had is exactly why this episode is so god damn brilliant. I felt what Anthony felt. And I’m not the only one! I’ve seen other people’s similar reactions to this scene. The episode really is a roller coaster; easy, lighthearted moments (pall mall, drug tea), interspersed with the terrifying drops and loops that are Anthony’s painful memories which constantly haunt him. And then it brought us right back to that first traumatic moment. Because Anthony has PTSD! And that’s what PTSD does. Anthony is right back where he was, literally not far from the same spot outside Aubrey Hall, standing in front of a person he loves, watching them get stung by a bee on almost the same spot on their body. The tense string scoring comes back and Anthony panics because he’s completely helpless again.

And all of those elements- the setting, the scoring, the acting- combined to terrify us and make us forget something critical: most people don’t die from beestings.

And here’s where it gets really profound for me. Because it’s not just about how we feel Anthony’s fear. It’s also about how Kate completely obliterates it. Without knowing that history and without realizing the full extent of what her actions would mean, she does exactly the right thing. Rather than die and rather than also panic or shy away from his vulnerability, she meets it with her own in the form of care and steady assurance, which is true strength. And in so doing, she stops this cyclical moment in its tracks and completely alters the trauma. She puts his hand on her heart, and the heartbeat comes back. But this time, it’s not threatening. It’s inviting.

And just like in the first scene, the moment is over all too quickly. Just like in that scene, Anthony is thrust onto a new path. But where that moment was damaging, this one is healing. And we feel that too. And it’s the greatest experience that art can give us.

It’s catharsis.

And that’s why this episode is magic. 🐝✨

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 6 His POV

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

It’s said that in war, 80% of those given guns wouldn’t “dare” to shoot the enemy.

The act of shooting another person is such a grave and immoral act that fills the heart with guilt.

And here I am shooting people with a hunting rifle used to kill beasts—

--

Roger: Kate, I got something for you. The best from Victor’s armory.

(I’m being selfish)

Kate: A…gun?

When I handed it to Kate, who wanted to become strong, she was like a baby given her first toy.

(...Ha. That’s a cuuute face)

(Come to think of it…Not too long ago, she was living in a world without the scent of death)

Roger: Give it here. I’ll teach you how to shoot.

I took the gun back and aimed at a target in the distance.

All three bullets hit the target dead center.

Roger: The height you hold the barrel depends on the opponent’s feet. In close range, point it down. Long range, horizontal.If you’re in a room, on a train, or some place with obstacles, you can point it up. But keeping it steady takes practice.

If the muzzle’s shaking, you have a higher chance of hitting a comrade so the basic rule is to aim down. That’s about it. Now we just have to practice.

Kate: I’ll give it a shot…

I placed the gun back in Kate’s hand and moved behind to guide her.

(...She’s so small)

Roger: Grip it like this. Yeah, good. Keep your finger on the trigger…no, don’t squeeze it. Loosen up.

Kate: Okay.

Roger: Relax. Just pull it back.

When she pulled the trigger, there was a dry sound and a bullet grazed the target.

Roger: A little more to the left. Fire them all.

Kate: …

I watched as Kate continued to reposition her arm and pull the trigger.

(Her arm’s shaking. Well, that’s understandable. However…)

Her determined expression was very Kate-like and I enjoyed it.

Roger: Out of 6 rounds, 1 was a hit. 2 grazed the target. Not bad for a first time.

I’ll add this to your training so you better start doing push-ups every day.

Also—Kate, use this as a last resort. Got it?

--

After gun-handling lessons, I returned to my research.

—The smell of gunpowder wafted from my clothes, bringing back distant memories.

(It was a few days after joining Crown)

When the trickster of a Queen’s Aide cheerfully invited me to the lounge.

~~ Flashback ~~

Victor: This is the lounge where we drink, play, party, and hold strategic meetings. And when you touch the first glass on the left, third row from the top—Ah!

When I touched the “first glass on the left, third row from the top”, things popped out all at once.

Roger: A weapons collection? There’s a lot of them too.

Victor: Aw, you touched it before I could reveal what it was. How naughty of you. Yes, this is my weapons collection! One of the benefits of Crown is getting to use all the weapons you want! You’ll be going on missions soo, so pick whatever weapon you want.

Swords, small guns, sword canes, knives…all of them looked pretty high quality. But something caught my eyes.

Roger: …I’ll go with this one.

Victor: A hunting rifle? I won’t question you, but…

Roger: It’s difficult to use, stands out, not useful in close range, and I have poor eyesight. But to make up for my eyesight—I have my power…

To fulfill my ambitions, I gave up my future as a doctor.

From then on, I was a member of Crown. The opposite of a doctor who saved lives, I killed and condemned people.

With my skills and knowledge on how to save lives, I’ll be bearing the sin of killing people…forever.

Roger: Taking lives with this is what I need to stay myself.

When I said that, the queen’s aide gave a smile that complimented this darkness.

Victor: I understand, Roger. If that is what you want. —Now, pledge your allegiance to evil.

~~ End flashback ~~

It’s said that in war, 80% of those given guns wouldn’t “dare” to shoot the enemy.

The act of shooting another person is such a grave and immoral act that fills the heart with guilt.

And here I am shooting people with a hunting rifle used to kill beasts—what a brute.

(But that’s okay. There’s no regrets or doubts on the choices I’ve made)

(—However)

~~ Flashback ~~ 

Kate: I’m…frustrated…by how weak I am.

Roger: Last question. Kate, what do you want to be?

Kate: I want to be…

Strong…I want to be strong. Because I…don’t want to hate myself.

Besides…life’s too long to live in despair.

Roger: …

~~ End flashback ~~

(I don’t want to lose the lil’ lady…to the same path of a brute I chose)

The thought of Kate, so honest with a desire to be strong, killing someone and falling down that path…

I felt sick, like I was hungover after a day of terrible drinks.

The Webley revolver I gave Kate wasn’t for killing people. It was only to protect herself.

(From here on, there might be moments when Kate will have to kill)

(But, when that time comes…)

(I’ll be the one doing the killing instead) Roger: …Haha. I’m the type of guy who adores my dogs.

Next

[lukesvangelista]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑ʲʰ⁸⁶

in which y/n is done with pregnancy, but jack comes to the rescue.

warnings; pregnancy, excessive vomiting, hospitals, make out session

Seven months ago, you were over the moon about having a baby. Jack and you had been trying for a bit before getting pregnant, and both of you had been ecstatic when you flipped the test over at 7:00 in the morning. You took three more just to be sure, and when those all came back positive, you and Jack both screamed so loudly that Luke had run into the bathroom with a baseball bat, ready to strike in case an intruder was present.

But that was seven months ago. Now eight months along, everything was killing you. Your feet hurt, your back hurt, and you had more heartburn than you had ever had over the span of your entire life, but that wasn’t the worst of it. In your first trimester, you had been diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, also known as excessive morning sickness. While most usually get over morning sickness before the beginning of their second trimester, you were well into your third trimester and were still vomiting almost nonstop. You were extremely ready for the pregnancy to be over.

It was definitely scary. Earlier in the pregnancy, you had vomited so much that you had become extremely dehydrated. So dehydrated that you had passed out on the floor of the bathroom while Jack and Luke were at morning practice. When the two boys came home that day, they were greeted by an eerily quiet house. While Jack checked your guys’ bedroom for any trace of you, Luke found you face down on the cold tile of the bathroom. The next thing you knew, you woke up in a hospital bed with an IV in your arm, Jack’s hand holding yours, his worried eyes scanning over your frame. He never wanted to leave you alone after that accident, but you eventually managed to convince him that you’d be okay so that he wouldn’t take too much time away from his job.

In this moment, however, as you were lying on the couch with a bucket in your hand and the Devils game on the TV, you wish you hadn’t been able to do that. The boys had a home game against the Stars, and were down early on. They managed to tie the game up with goals from Nico and Graves, but that didn’t do you any favors. Currently, the boys were in the second overtime of the game and you were absolutely miserable. It was 11:00 PM and all you wanted was Jack. Your prayers were answered not a minute later when Marino scored, ending the game with a final score of 4-3.

Not even ten minutes later, you received a text from your boyfriend: see you soon baby. i love you.

You smiled slightly as you gripped the bucket closer and turned off the TV. All you wanted was the pregnancy to end and to be able to meet your sweet baby. But you knew he or she wasn’t coming for another month or so, and that made you want to cry. As much as you tried to hold it in, you simply couldn’t. Tears fell out of your eyes as all you could manage to focus on was the discomfort you were feeling. You were so done.

You were so worked up that you didn’t even hear the door open. When you finally noticed the figure dumping his shoes off at the front door, you sat up as quickly as you could and attempted to wipe your tears. The figure, whom you realized was Luke, gave you a look of sympathy before coming over to you and giving you a brotherly kiss on the top of your head, “Jacky’s just putting some of his gear away. I’ll go get him for you,” he whispered, cleaning up the empty water bottles you had finished shortly beforehand.

“Thank you, Lukey,” you sniffled. He nodded softly and went out to the garage to grab his older brother. You waited as patiently as you could for your boyfriend, who came inside with his younger brother on his trail. Luke went upstairs to his room as Jack slowly made his way towards you, his eyes gentle and his arms outstretched for you.

“Oh baby,” he cooed, gently pulling you into his strong arms as he sat down on the couch. You placed your head onto his shoulder as the tears began streaming down your face again, “tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m so done,” you cried, tearfully looking into your boyfriend’s eyes, “I can’t do it anymore, Jacky. The morning sickness is killing me, and I can’t deal with the heartburn any longer! And my feet hurt and my back hurts… and I can’t take it anymore! I just want our baby to be here!”

Jack looked at you sadly and placed a sweet, gentle kiss on the top of your head. He grabbed your chin softly and forced you to look him in the eyes, “I know baby, and I’m so sorry you have to feel this way. I want to meet our baby more than anything, but you’re doing an amazing job, sweetheart. I need you to know that, alright? Our baby is not going to have a more amazing mother than you. We just need to wait a little while longer.”

“But what if I’m not a good mother, Jack? What if I’m a terrible mother? I want to give our baby the best life possible but I’m terrified that I’m going to end up like my mother, and I—” you were cut off by an extremely passionate kiss on the lips. As cliche as it sounds, it seemed as if all your worries fluttered away at that moment. After a few seconds Jack pulled away, but you pulled him right back in. After worrying yourself sick for the past few hours, this was the one thing that was reassuring you.

After a pretty heavy, long-lasting make out session, Jack pulled away. Smirking, he whispered, “Feel better, sweetheart?”

You laughed quietly, “Much better.”

“Good,” Jack smiled, “Now, I’ve been thinking about names, and I think I have the perfect one if we have a little boy.”

This peaked your attention. You and Jack didn’t know what you were having yet, as you both agreed that you wanted to find out the sex of your baby at the birth, “Oh yeah? I want to hear it.”

He smiled again, this time even wider than last, “Ellis James. I figured that Ellis is close enough to Ellen and James is my dad’s first name, and I think it flows pretty well together. What do you think?”

You smiled, wrapping yourself around his left arm. Although you hadn’t come up with many names yet, you both agreed that you wanted your baby to be named after close friends and family, and Jack captured it perfectly, “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Speaking of, I have a name I love if we have a girl,” you whispered, peering into his beautiful eyes.

Jack raised his eyebrows at you, his face full of curiosity, “What is it?”

“Lucia Quinn,” you spoke up, looking at Jack for his reaction. When you saw his grin grow, you knew you could continue, “Obviously she’ll have Quinn’s name as her middle name, and Lucia is a female version of Luke, so we’ve got both of your brothers covered.”

“I love it.”

“Yeah?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah.”

Boy, you couldn’t wait to have this baby. But, as opposed to the reasons you were thinking about earlier in the day, these new reasons were pretty good ones. That’s all you wanted. And as you focused on the look in Jack’s eyes, you knew that’s all he wanted too.

[boredzillenial]

Day 23: of @flightlessangelwings fawktober!

You come home to find a stranger by your pool (Jack Jackson).

Themes: DEAD DOVE -DNE, bratty f!reader, Dirty Talk, some degradation, momentary choking and hair pulling, Begging, CNC (maybe? Idk man I tried), refraction period who, 69 (Jack on top), cum play, pinv, creampie

W.C: 2435 words

A.N: This is a safe place to explore kink and erotica as writers and readers, if you don’t like one of the above themes don’t read it, this is my first attempt at hitting all three themes for one day! My first experience with CNC as well so apologies if it isn’t the best 😅 Hope y’all like it 😘 Big thank you to @melodygatesauthor and @guruan-isnt-here for grammar and vibe checking this one!

See you soon ;)

You stare down at the final line of chat on your screen. You’d listed out your age, location, hard and soft limits. Now you wait… Finding someone online for CNC was always a toss up but your chat with this guy felt different somehow. Though your shitty workday hangs over you like a dark cloud your core is already dampening at the thought of this evening. You make your way through your darkened home until you’re stepping out sun drenched back deck. The light glimmering off of the pool causing you to squint. You take a deep breath, finally closing your eyes as you enjoy the warmth of the sun on your skin until you hear the clinking of ice in a glass. You jump and whip around to see the source of the noise,

“Who the hell are you?” You snap, your aggravating work day eroded your already limited patience. While didn’t know who had answered your ad this was not the man you’d expected. The figure lounging across your pool chair furrows his brow.

He slowly sits up and lowers his sunglasses to take you in, “I’m who you’ve been chattin’ with. Name’s Jack.” He twangs out.

“Horse shit.” You spit.

“Well that’s not very nice…” He stands up, taking a sip from his umbrella’d cocktail as he makes his way toward you. Arousal begins to mix with your frustration at his strange response. Usually you prefer men much bigger than yourself for scenes like this, it helps keep you in the moment, but this guy is at least a couple inches shorter than you.

“I thought you’d be someone strong, powerful, tall...” Your voice lowers as you smirk, dragging your gaze slowly over him. “But you? How’d you even get in?”

“I’ve got my ways sweetheart.” The stranger shrugs , “figured I’d make myself comfortable.” He grins, two gold teeth shimmering in his smile. “Care for a swim?” He motions toward the pool, robe fluttering in the California breeze showing his form in a rather small pair of pink briefs that don’t leave anything to the imagination. He’s that big while flaccid?

“I think I’ll take some time to decompress from work…” you turn and make your way into the house. The darkness temporarily blinding you as you make your way further, “Shit,” You hiss as you slowly make your way toward the kitchen.

Suddenly there are two strong hands slamming into your shoulders and pinning your back against the wall. “Now sweetheart, you can’t hold my height against me. I’m very good at my job.” His smirk and gravely voice grate against your nerves.

“If you had really read through the request you must know I’m anything but sweet…” your voice drops into a low taunting tone as you lean forward. “I don’t think this is gonna -“

His hand around your throat finishes your sentence for you as he holds you still. “Those ain’t the magic words.” He smirks “Why don’t you make your way into the bedroom and we can start.” He lets you go and steps aside, motioning down the hall.

“Pft.” You huff, feigning boredom with his momentary dominance. Deciding you really want to test his resolve you forge on, “I doubt you can -“ once again he cuts you off, this time with an iron grip in your hair at the nape of your neck as he drags you toward the bedroom.

“You’re one of those huh? Can’t just listen the first time.” He tuts as you stumble to keep up, wincing and hissing at the pain prickling your scalp. He grabs your arm and throws you onto the bed. “Just so I know you’re not some girl who’s in over her head… let me hear you say your safe-word…” he crosses his arms and stands at the edge of the bed.

You level your gaze with his, adrenaline sparking your stubbornness “Red…” you purr.

“Not a creative one are ya.” He chuckles. “Now once I start, I ain’t stopping till I hear that word…”

“That word is for you too, in case you can’t handle it.” You smirk.

The wicked grin that answers you sends lightening to your core. “Oh I’m gonna enjoy this.” He pulls down the pink briefs slowly, his thick member already hard, red and angry. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as your mouth watered at the sight of him. “Like what you see?” He smirks as he spits in his hand and slowly began to work himself infront of you.

“Can’t say I don’t.” You answer, stubbornness flaring again and keeping you from giving him a simple yes.

“Good, cause that’s all you get to do right now.” His dark tone fills the room as he continues to work himself. Hips slowly canting forward on a particularly long stroke had you biting your lip. “Little slut hasn’t earned all of this…” he growls.

You’re ashamed at how quickly you’re losing your nerve. The pulse of his cock and the sounds coming from him make your core ache and clench around nothing. You lean back on the bed, your eyes never leaving his length as your hand dips under your waistband. “Nope.” He growls, lunging forward and yanking your wrist to pin it on the bed. “Bad girl.” He pulls you forward till your knees landed on the carpet. “Hands behind your back.”

“Make m-“ your smirk is cut off as he pinches your cheeks together.

“Oh I intend to.” He pulls a pair of cuffs out of the pocket of his silk robe. He pulls your arms behind you at an awkward angle and tightens them down on your wrists.

“They’re too tight.” You growl.

He moves to stand infront of you, cock still red and now weeping as it bounces just a few inches from your face. “Ask me if I care sweetheart, now open.”

You glare at him but did as he says, opening your mouth just wide enough and sticking your tongue out.

“Stay just like that.” He murmurs as he begins working himself again, slowly coming closer and closer but not enough to touch.

He threw his head back and groaned as his hips began rolling forward. You could feel the thin fabric of your underwear soaking as he stood over you. So close but not quite there. Raising a brow you went to lean forward, to just lick the tip. But his hand came down on your forehead to keep you in place “Think I’m stupid?” He chuckled as he continues to rut into his fist. “Think you earned this cum?”

You nod opening your mouth wider. His breathy laugh has you nearly groaning, just a few more thrusts and you’re sure he’d be coming right down your throat. His hand on your head shakes as he nears his release; one, two, three more thrusts and then- ropes and ropes of cum splatter across your chest and shirt. “What the fuck.” You hiss.

“Oh you definitely didn’t earn it yet. I just wanted to ruin that pretty little blouse of yours.” He smirks, running his fingers down and swirling his spend across your skin. A snarl is your only warning as his other hand grabs onto the hem of your deep v-necked collar and yanks, ripping and exposing your bare chest underneath. “I’m gonna have fun painting you with my cum.” He whispers, hauling you up by your arm and throwing you back onto the bed. “You won’t need these.” He yanks your pants and thong down in one stroke, exposing your soaked folds. “So wet already.” He lightly strokes a finger through your heat and swirls around your clit, eliciting a soft moan from you.

His eyes sparkle as a wicked idea swirls in his mind. He presses your legs wide and leaned in, rubbing his fat tip up and down your folds. Your slickness and his cum still beading out of it mixing together made him nearly lose his control. It took everything in him not to slam into you. He nearly does till he looks up and notices how much you were enjoying the sensation. A little too much for his liking. He smirks, runs his tip up to your clit and rubs slowly over it. You whimper and groan as your hips began to roll in time with his. Your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on drawing as much pleasure as you can.

He huffs and slips the tip of his cock down further, barely pressing into your heat. Christ you need more, you buck your hips up stealing you a momentary inch of him. “Bad girl.” He tuts, slipping out of your folds and down, pressing his slick tip against your tight ring of muscle. Your eyes shoot open in a panic and you try to sit up. He relishes the fear in your eyes as he leans forward, his face just inches from yours “Do that again and I’m fucking this first… and you better hope that cunt is slick enough to drip down for your tight little ass.”

You gulp and nod. “You gonna behave?” He asks as he angles his tip up and slides it between your folds. You bite your lip to stifle your groan and nod again. “Prove it.” He shuffles over and cages your head with a knee on either side, leaning forward and angling is cock over your face, “Open.”

You open wide, hungrily as the mixture of his smell and yours fills your senses. He slowly glides his soaked tip over your tongue and groans, “Such an eager little slut.” He chuckles, rolling his hips slowly as his hand cups your breast and pinches your nipple lightly.

You gasp and he takes that chance to thrust deeper into your mouth. The warmth and softness of your tongue pull moans from him and eat away at his resolve. “Taking it so well, you want my cock down your throat?” You nod as best you can and hum your response. “Good.” He lays over you, his length nearly hitting the back of your throat and stretching your lips across him. He begins thrusting into your mouth and your about to cry out for him to slow down when a shot of warmth and pressure glides across your bud.

Your cry is muffled around his girth as he laps at your clit with his tongue. Long languid strokes across your bud send your mind reeling as you arch up and take him deeper down your throat. “Only takes a couple licks to swallow my cock huh?” His breath fanning across your needy core sent you whimpering. “Don’t worry, your mouth feels so good I’ll reward ya.”

His hips set a fast pace as he lapped at your clit. In just a few strokes of his tongue you came undone. Your cunt fluttering around nothing as you muffled cries fill the room. You were so ready to swallow all that he was about to give you. A few more hard thrusts and - he pulls out of your mouth with a pop and ruts against your chest, spilling new ropes of cum to meet his earlier spend. “Still, haven’t earned, that yet.” He groans between thrusts. His hips slow and he sits up, adjusting so he can see the absolute mess covering your tits and his belly.

He lets out a dark chuckle as he wipes his cum off his belly and turns to you. You’re hunger quelled for a moment from your orgasm as you look up at him lazily. “You want it?” He looks down as the cum on his hand then back to your lips. You nod, closing your eyes and opening your mouth. You stick your tongue out and wait for the taste of him to hit your palette. You jolt as he presses his fingers deep into your aching core. “Think I want it here instead.” His dark smirk ignites your frustration anew.

“Fucking tease.” You hiss.

“You think so?” He brings his hand up and gathers the ropes of cum from your chest. “Oh I can show you tease.” With one hand full of cum he uses the other to lift your legs until your ankles were nearly by your ears. You groan against the uncomfortable position as your weight presses into your shoulders and neck. You pitifully try to use your still restrained arms to get more comfortable, your core tensing as you try to balance.

Ass up and everything laid bare for him, he shifts behind you. Your lower back presses against his chest. He pulls your folds open with his clean hand and you gasp at the sensation of him dripping cum right into your aching heat. Your legs jerk but he manages to keep them in place as he uses a single finger to work his cum into you. Just enough sensation for you to feel it but not enough to satisfy.

“Please.” The word slips out before you can stop it. His motions halt, he slowly meets your gaze with a smirk.

“What was that? Little slut actually beggin’ now?” His dark tone adds to your aching frustration. “Do it again.”

Your desperation cracks your resolve as your back begins to ache. “Please… need more…”

“That wasn’t so hard was it? Though you should be more specific.” His smirk grows to a wicked grin as he stands over you and sinks his girth into your slick channel in one thrust. You cry out at the sudden stretch, pain and pleasure swirling as his cum leaks around the sides of him. “Would you look at that. Gotta fill you up some more.” He grunts as he begins to pound into you.

Cries turn to whimpers as you finally begin to adjust to him. His cock hitting that spot deep inside, sending you over the edge. His groans join your cries as you tighten around him, “Just like that.” He bites out and fucks you harder. “Take this fucking cock.” He slams into you drawing out your orgasm. With a final thrust he leans into you, pressing you further into the bed and painting your walls white.

After a moment he slowly lowers you till your back finally rests against the bed. Instinctively you let out a contented sigh as you felt the aftermath slowly leak from your relaxed sex. Jack moves off the bed to admire his work, tutting as the wet spot below you grows. “Gonna have to try again.” He grins. “Maybe a different hole will hold it better.”

————-

Taglist: @lunar-ghoulie @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[letstrythisout4]

Blaise and Hufflepuffs:

HP Masterlist

Comment from : @slytherinboysappreciation

What are your thoughts on Blaise Zabini being friends with hufflepuffs? I feel like his lack of blood supremacy values and his loyalty to his mother would endear him to the ‘puffs (at least it has to me lol) . I feel like Blaise Zabini would get to know the darker side of hufflepuff. The ‘hurt my friends and I’ll hurt you’ side. You know? Like, maybe it’s just me seeing things that aren’t there, but Blaise seems like he’d be trusted with the less so cute side of hufflepuff. Idk I have thoughts

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OK so many thoughts lets go

(First a disclaimer I am a Hufflepuff with strong slytherin…tendencies so I am potentially biased. There PSA out of the way lets go.)

Honestly this is a concept I've been tempted to explore in a fanfic (if literally anyone and I mean even a single person wants that comment and I WILL do it) but I do believe that Blaise would form a weird friendship with the Hufflepuffs. And when I say the Hufflepuffs I mean like… all of them. Mainly because of how loyal he is. But its the kind of friendship that isn't incredibly overt. Like if you were to ask any random person “Is Blasie friends with the Hufflepuff house?” they would look at you like you had three heads. Mainly because (I imagine) Blaise to be super stoic and you have to really sit and observe or talk to him to see what he's really like. (He can be super charming and charismatic but usually that means he's trying to get something out of it he gets this from his mama). Most people would see that he is always around the slytherins of his year and assume that that's it, that's all the friends he’s got. But if you were to ask a hufflepuff (literally any hufflepuff) they can give stories of him either helping them get away from bullying, tutor them/ be tutored by older hufflepuffs (lets not forget hardwork is a Hufflepuff trait). Speaking of hard work, I am of the belief that Hufflepuffs are frequently the type of people who work themselves to the grave in order to get good grades. I could see a world where this is one of the “dark” traits of Hufflepuff that first gains Blaise’s attention. I feel like Blaise, as a top student, would respect the hustle of the Hufflepuff house. So I think Blaise has a quiet alliance with Hufflepuffs. They have each other's back. And it's not weird for Hufflepuffs to see him waltz into their common room to ask an older student for recommendations for which electives to take next year, and to tell the younger students that they slytherins in their year that has been bothering them has been dealt with and it won’t happen again. And beyond this relationship being built off mutual values of hard work and loyalty, i think Blaise would also see the potential of the Hufflepuff house. Hufflepuffs are constantly underestimated when all things considered they may be the most efficient group of students so long as they have a goal that they care about. He has seen what underestimation has done to idiots in the past cough cough the fools who continue to marry his mother. So this is also partial because he sees that they can be incredibly powerful allies in the future and wants those connections.

Update: ive started writing a series about this so yeah-

Author’s note: thank you for reading

[trekscribbles]

The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Seven

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Stephen Lancaster sauntered through the doors of his downtown office building and set his Stetson brim-down on the receptionist’s counter. “Howdy, miss,” he said, winking at the brunette behind the desk. It was a new girl, one he hadn’t fully charmed yet, but the smile she beamed back at him said she was well on her way to falling for him.

“Mr. Lancaster,” she said, her voice pleasantly low, almost husky. “You’re in a good mood—I was worried after what happened with the LanCast building.”

“That’s all being handled,” Lancaster said, affecting a grave tone. “Of course, I have the families of those workers to take care of, and I swear I’ll get them justice. I’ve been working closely with the police department to find the criminals who did this, and Chief Howard has assured me they will be persecuted to the full extent of the law.”

“Do you have any leads?” the receptionist asked eagerly.

He winked and spoke in a loose drawl. “Oh, we have a few. I can promise you this, darlin’: they won’t be troubling anybody else when I’m through with them.”

“I’m so relieved,” she said, flashing him a brilliant smile. She tapped something on her computer and looked back up at him. “You got a call from the insurance company—did you get the message?”

“I did,” Lancaster said, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning into her space. “I’m heading up to my office to call them back now. When I’m done, maybe you could block an hour or so off in my schedule and come give me your thoughts on the claim. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

Lancaster picked up his hat and settled it low on his brow, running his finger along the brim to point at her. She giggled, and he made his way to the elevator and punched in the number to his office, straightening his shirt cuffs as he went. The top floor was carpeted, and his boot heels made a pleasant tapping sound as he strode toward his door, unhurried. He had time before the phone call, enough to check in on a few other matters, and he expected good news.

He unlocked his door and crossed the cowhide rug to his desk, sighing as he sat in his overstuffed office chair. His cellphone rang—just on time—and he answered with a lazy, “That took longer than expected. Are you on your way back?”

There was a pause, and Lancaster sat up straighter, frowning. “Janish?”

“We ran into a problem,” Janish answered sullenly.

Lancaster’s good mood vanished. “What kind of problem?”

“Spencer’s alive.”

A jolt of fear—no, not fear, Lancaster didn’t feel fear—concern made him glance toward his open door. He had security; he was safe. “That’s impossible,” he said in a flat voice. “He took the same fall that killed Vinny. We know he was hurt, and we’ve been watching the hospitals. It’s more likely he crawled into an alley and just hasn’t been found yet.”

“I saw him,” Janish said. “He was at the house when we went to get the deed.”

Lancaster frowned. What did Spencer have to do with June Davidge? She hadn’t reached out to him—they’d been monitoring her—and as far as Lancaster knew, Spencer didn’t have any connections to the area. “What was he doing there?”

“He didn’t say. He didn’t seem to recognize me, but he stopped us outside the house.”

“You fought him,” Lancaster said. “So he’s dead now?”

“No,” Janish grumbled.

Hell, this was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. When Janish had first recognized Spencer the week before, walking into the LanCast construction site with the blonde he’d since identified as the Parker, international art thief, Lancaster had taken steps to prevent his interference. It had taken some digging and quite a few bribes, but thanks to Janish’s contacts, they’d been able to get more information on the crew Spencer was running with. There were five of them, run by a man named Nathan Ford, though the identities of the other two members of the team had eluded him. It didn’t matter—he knew enough to take action.

A little bit of the best tech money could buy had disrupted their communication, but not before some hasty surveillance determined Parker’s plan to blow up the LanCast construction site. That was easy enough to work around—if he let her blow it up and then proved Ford’s team was behind it, he’d just collect the insurance payout and start over. But Janish had warned him against Spencer, said they wouldn’t be able to fly under his radar for long, and that it would be better to take care of him before pinning anything on the rest of Ford’s team.

So he’d sent Janish to snap a picture of Parker on her way to the building, sent it to Spencer, and sat back and waited for the extra explosives Janish had planted to do their work. It meant sacrificing the men Lancaster had sent to lure Spencer inside, but if it got rid of him and the thief, it was worth it.

Except it hadn’t.

When the blast went off, Spencer had been blown clear and somehow escaped, and they’d found no trace of Parker inside the building. Ford’s team had abandoned the hotel Lancaster had been watching, and he hadn’t been able to track them down yet. Now apparently Spencer had discovered his interest in June Davidge’s property. It was only a matter of time before they came for him, and this time they’d have revenge on their minds.

Lancaster took a deep breath and studied the painting on the far wall. It was a Frederic Remington, depicting a man sitting shotgun on a wagon seat, firing a rifle at a band of outlaws on his trail. Lancaster adjusted his hat and scowled at the phone.

If Ford’s band of outlaws wanted to square off against him, then let them come.

“Get back here,” Lancaster spat. “I want this taken care of.”

“I’m on my way.”

Lancaster ended the call and eased back in his chair, thinking. This was a setback, but he had faced setbacks before. He was smarter than any group of thieves, and he had more than enough resources to make them go away. He just had to find a way to lure them out. Perhaps if he—

“Janish tell you the news?” asked a soft voice.

Lancaster sat up, his attention snapping to the corner of the room, where a man leaned casually against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. His heart made an attempt at escape up his throat. “How did you get in?”

The man he recognized as Eliot Spencer regarded him without moving. “Door.”

Lancaster reached for his phone, but Spencer’s gaze followed his hand. “I wouldn’t,” he said quietly.

“There’s no need to do anything rash,” Lancaster said. When Spencer didn’t react, he cleared his throat and stood carefully, keeping the desk between them. “I can have security here in seconds.”

“If you think that would help,” Spencer said.

“What do you want?” Lancaster asked.

Spencer’s expression was calm, almost bored. “Answers.”

Answers. Okay, he could give answers—no matter how good Janish said this Spencer was, it wasn’t as if he could fight off all of Lancaster’s men if they charged him at once. He could stall, keep the man talking, and wait for the routine security sweep to pass by. He wasn’t in danger.

Encouraged, Lancaster set his hat on his desk and combed a hand through his dark hair. “All right,” he said. “Ask your questions.”

Spencer frowned at the hat before looking back up at Lancaster. “Why are you trying to kill me?”

“Kill you?” Lancaster echoed, holding up his hands. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“Your men were,” Spencer said.

“You must be mistaken. What happened at my offices was an accident.”

“And my friend?” Spencer asked, his gaze hardening. “Was killing her an accident?”

Interesting… he didn’t know Parker wasn’t inside building. If he didn’t know the whole truth… “She wasn’t supposed to be there,” he said, picking his words carefully. “I tried to save her. Whoever attacked you was sent by someone else.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I believe that?”

Inspiration struck, and Lancaster forged ahead with a little more feeling. “Nathan Ford—he’s not what he seems.”

That made him pause. Lancaster hid his satisfaction, watching Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, his jaw clench. The lie wouldn’t hold for long, but if he could make Spencer hesitate, if he could get him to doubt—

“Who’s Nathan Ford?” Spencer asked.

Lancaster blinked. A spark of anger threatened his composure; Janish must have gotten Ford’s name wrong, and Lancaster didn’t suffer incompetence on his staff. But no, Janish had been sure, and he knew better than to give faulty reports. Was Spencer pretending? Trying to hide his connection to Ford? Lancaster frowned at him, studying the barely concealed confusion still evident on Spencer’s face, and noticed a purple bruise over his right ear. A head injury? He’d been in the explosion, after all—it was possible. He hadn’t recognized Janish. He didn’t seem to remember Ford.

Lancaster gambled.

“Nathan Ford is your enemy,” he said, watching Spencer’s reaction carefully. “You came to me for help against him, but before I could do anything, he lured your friend into the LanCast building, hoping to kill you both. You escaped. I’ve been searching for you, hoping to find you before Ford could finish you off.”

“You sent Janish to June’s,” Spencer said.

“On an unrelated errand,” Lancaster said. “We were lucky he found you.”

Spencer’s frown deepened. “He knew me.”

“You both work for me,” Lancaster said. “I hired you just before your trouble with Ford. You and Janish have never been friendly, though, and I’m afraid Janish took advantage of the situation and tried to get in a few cheap shots. Believe me, he will be reprimanded.”

Spencer shook his head, his expression closing up, and Lancaster pushed on before he could withdraw. “Think about it. You found your way back to me, didn’t you? Part of you must have realized that you were meant to be here. I can help you against Ford. I can help you get revenge.”

“Revenge?” Spencer echoed in a hollow voice.

“It’s only a matter of time before he comes after you again,” Lancaster said. “I can protect you. I can help you fight back.”

Spencer swallowed. “What would you need from me?”

“A plan,” Lancaster said. “Your expertise. Help me set a trap for Ford, help me lure him here, and we’ll make sure he never hurts anyone else again.”

For a long moment, Spencer didn’t react. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “What about June?”

“I need her property,” Lancaster said. “One way or another, I’m going to get it. But with you on my payroll, I’d be willing to entertain alternate measures.”

“You mean you’d send me instead of Janish,” Spencer said.

Lancaster smiled. “It would be the quickest way to get what I need, and the best way to ensure June Davidge isn’t bothered again. Janish is good at what he does, but from what I hear, you’re better. What do you say?”

There was a pause, but the interest on Spencer’s face was clear. Lancaster held out his hand, hiding his grin, congratulating himself on another victory snatched from defeat. It was how he did things—how he’d always done things. When other men hid from their troubles, Lancaster faced them head on. He was a bull in a field of sheep. And with Eliot Spencer at his side... 

He’d be unstoppable.

“What do you need from June?” Spencer asked, pushing away from the wall.

“The deed,” Lancaster said. “There’s something I’m looking for, something that may be buried on her property. I’ve checked all the other places it might be, and the Davidge land is the last.”

“What is it?”

Lancaster nodded to his hand, and Spencer came forward, hesitated, and took it.

“Welcome aboard,” Lancaster said, grinning. “Now. What do you know about Jesse James?”

[fanartandfanfiction]

Hogwarts legacy modern AU texting

Sharp: I shouldn’t even ask because I know I’ll regret it, but did I just see you walk by with a mooncalf?

MC: Nope.

Sharp: MC, I’m not blind. Why do you have a mooncalf?

MC: Because Biscuit needs a safe place to stay for a little while.

Sharp: Biscuit?!

MC: It’s a long story, but I’ve been asked to keep him safe for now

Sharp: How do you intend to keep a mooncalf in your dorm room?

MC: He’s not going in my dorm, he’ll go in the vivarium with the others

-MC unsent a message-

Sharp: I saw that.

MC: No you didn’t.

Sharp: What. Others.

MC: two more moon calves, three nifflers, a unicorn, a pair of thestrals, and half a dozen puffskeins.

MC: Did you just scream? I’m at the top of the stairs and it sounded like you screamed.

Sharp: Yes. Yes I did.

MC: it’s not a big deal, Deek helps me take care of them.

Sharp: Who is Deek?!

Sharp: Where are you keeping these beasts?!

Sharp: You CANNOT keep magical beasts in the castle.

MC: They’re not, kind of.

Sharp: What does that mean?

MC: Those are all the questions I’ll be taking for now.

Sharp: This is not an interview! Answer me!

MC: What matters is that it’s private, out of the way, and safe.

Sharp: You’re going to put me in an early grave.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

[Corrupted Anon] Fuck, I couldn’t help myself-

I’ll be using ‘You’ (if I can remember) but it’s still Stoic!Reader

—————————————

Grabbing Johnny by his mohawk, the strap-on already digging its way inside his tight asshole, shoving his cock into Gaz’s ass, was an erotic sight for anyone who dares to peak through the slight gap at your door. The thrill of being caught pegging your subordinates on your bed only made the two men underneath you whimper and squirm, literal bitches in heat.

Ever since your encounter with Simon, you needed to release some of that pent up energy, those thoughts you had onto the two people that were under your beck and call when they were so needy.

“Behave mutt, don’t ruin my pretty pillow Princess without my permission,” when did you become so much more vocal? Both of the two sergeants thought before being bottomed out, only thinking about the immense pleasure that you relish them in. “Beg me.”

Johnny was confused before feeling his cock being pulled out from Kyle, who whimpers in protest, the his hole lacking the fleshy rod that was drawing him close to his orgasm. Johnny would’ve felt pity if he wasn’t still being thrusted from behind, his ass meeting with your pelvis as his gives out gargled groans and whimpers as you hold him tightly around his neck, not hard enough to cut off his air-way but enough for that nice feeling to wrap around his head.

“Be me, Kyle. Beg me and this mutt to ruin you pretty little hole~” oh the way you growled made Kyle’s head spin, his eyes dilating at this new tone of yours. The effect went the same way for Johnny, his whimper louder while you watched his cock twitch from the sound of your voice. “Spread that tight hole for me and Johnny boy and we’ll give you what you want.”

Pretty, obedient Kyle spread his cheeks open before you spat down on it, making the sergeant flinch at the sudden wetness before you push Johnny down onto him, making his cock enter Kyle without warning sending Johnny to his second orgasm while Kyle moaned loudly. Your hand flies towards Kyle’s mouth as you hush him.

“Shhhh, Pretty-boy, don’t want the higher-ranks to see the perfect, poised sergeant being such a dirty, pillow princess for me, now do we?” Kyle weakly nods his head, tears already at the brim of pleasure, whining into your hand begging you to let Johnny move so he can cum as well.

Leaning back as you give Johnny space to move his hips but the tired mutt was already shaking and drooling on Kyle’s chest from the double pleasure he felt, his cock already softened inside Kyle. Now that won’t do. You grind the strap-on into Johnny’s ass, hitting deeper inside him making him gasp, his body jerking up as he felt his overstimulated cock twitch back to life.

“That’s it, good boy, Johnny. You haven’t let my Princess cum yet, you greedy thing.”

Johnny lets out a pained moan from his ass overused by you but you couldn’t stop yet, not until Kyle had his fill. Without warning your hips bucked against Johnny, his moans mixed with Kyle’s as you take over the pace. Your strap-on into Johnny’s ass, Johnny’s cock in Kyle’s.

Your hand pushes Johnny’s head, forcing him and Kyle to kiss under your watch, both men moaning at the power you over them. They both moaned your name with each thrust of your hips, before both of them started to mumble nonsense or what was close to your name in gibberish.

“My perfect boys, cum for me.”

A hand reaches down jerk off Kyle, the motion creating a domino effect as Kyle comes on his and Johnny’s chest and stomach, Johnny comes as Kyle clenches down on him while you release onto your strap-on. All three of you panting heavily, Johnny falls on top of Kyle not caring about the mess.

After cleaning them up, you go to get changed but a pair of hands stops you. Oh shit. “Stay,” they both pleaded.

And like with Simon… you given in and stayed, cuddled dead in the centre, a cuddly grave as you dig yourself into more shit. Fuck.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[hangmanbradshaw]

guess this is the first time I send you an ask so HIIIII STEPH!

gonna go for the song 52 on your spotify wrapped for hangster 🩷

p.s.: your christmas stories are giving christmas movie-watching tradition vibes! still gotta read them but my heart always gets warm when a new notification arrives on my email

xoxo

Omg HI!!!!! Welcome, welcome :D

(omg I hope you love them when you read. they're definitely warming my heart writing them....enjoying it way too much)

Oooh 52 omg excellent choice. It's Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift soooo this was too much fun.

“Seresin.”

Jake froze where he was leaning against the bar as a warm body pressed against his side. He didn’t have to look to know who the voice belonged to- it was a sound that haunted his every thought, both waking and dreamed. He didn’t bother turning, hardly even flinched a muscle on the outside even as his heart pounded hard in his chest, turning his ears to cotton.

“Mickey, I’ll have another.” He said to the bartender, signaling at his empty glass. “Top shelf, on him.”

Mickey nodded and swiped the most expensive bottle from the shelf, pouring the amber liquid into his glass and sliding it over. Bradley didn’t argue it, he never did.

“Heard you were back in town. Take care of that business in LA?”

Jake hummed as he ran his finger over the edge of the glass. He kept his eyes focused there as he replied, “You know I did.”

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

“I didn’t.”

It was a lie. They both knew it.

Bradley didn’t signal for a drink, but that wasn’t surprising. He liked to be in control, hyper aware of everything despite how cool he always played it. He leaned his elbows back against the bar and looked out at the crowd as he said, “Rumor is something big is going down. FBI’s been raiding your places. They’re saying your dad’s lost his touch.”

“Are they now?”

“Sure are. A couple of your people have come to us, asked to pledge new loyalty.”

He finally turned and faced him, leaning on his own elbow as he stared at the deep brown that was focused on him. Bradley looked the same as he always did- short curls pushed back, dressed down in jeans and a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt compared to Jake’s perfectly pressed three piece suit. Two sides of the same coin, he’d always thought. The son of power always dressed like it verses the son who dressed it in his own way. If anyone else had tried to wear an outfit like that, they’d be laughed at. Bradley was revered. 

“Any chance you’re gonna tell me those names?”

Bradley smirked, those eyes warming. “No way in hell, Hangman.”

“Mm. I’ll find them my own way.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Bradley replied, lips curling smugly. “They’re scared, you know.”

“We’re dealing with it. You might as well hold off on dancing on our graves, cuz we ain’t dead yet. We still run this city.”

“Half of it. For now.”

He hummed again and shot his drink back in one go. Mickey raised the bottle in question, but he shook his head and tapped the bar as he stepped away. The crowd was thick, but they parted as easily as the red sea as he walked, waving his men off. He didn’t have to look back to know Bradley was throwing some bills on the bar and following, the sea staying clear for him as well, his own men hanging back.

The cold air of the city winter burned his skin as he pushed out the back door into the alleyway. He barely had two seconds to feel it before he was being turned and pushed back against the brick wall. A hand cupped the back of his head, protective and possessive as lips pressed against his. He let Bradley kiss him, let him have his fill just enough to quench his thirst before he pulled back. Bradley blinked at him, eyes wide and dark and still so thirsty, those massive hands of his scalding on his hips. 

“How bad are things, really?” 

“I told you, we’re handling it.”

One of Bradley’s hands moved to cup his cheek instead. He ran his thumb over his lip and said, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. If the infamous James Seresin finally falls, I’m getting you out.”

“Good luck with that.”

“We’ve already crossed every other line, what’s one more?”

He pulled back a bit and studied him for a moment. He was sure the surprise had to show when he said, “You’re serious. Fucking around with your rival’s one thing, you can’t seriously think-“

“My dad’s offered yours a deal.”

It stopped him dead in his tracks. Bradley’s words were rushed, serious. “What deal?”

“The bureau’s on your asses. What’s to say we won’t be next? You have half the city, we have the other…it’s time we remind them who’s in charge here.”

“You’re talking about joining forces?” He asked with a blink. “They’re never gonna go for that. No way in hell is he gonna trust that, not when you didn’t ask for anything.”

“We did though, and he agreed.”

“And what’s that?”

“You.” Bradley replied as he kissed him again. He pulled back and whispered against his lips. “The youngest son of James Seresin for the heir in waiting of the Bradshaw empire.”

His heart damn near froze in his chest. He pushed him back so he could look into his eyes when he said, “You traded for me.”

“I did. It’s you and me, baby.” Bradley said as he cupped his cheeks and ran his thumbs over the skin there. “We’re gonna run this fucking city."

[trashcanplant]

The Very Model of a Modern Major Beagle

Sally Starlet sat hunched in her room over a sheet of paper. She groaned, crumpling it up and tossing it into the bin. Papers were beginning to pile up.

“Ugh! Why can’t I get this script write? I know I’m no Shakespeare, but I am the brightest, most brilliant playwright in Home!” She cried out in agony, dramatically lounging in her chair. Sally sighed, looking at her new, blank page of paper.

This semi-angry script writing session was fueled by a visit to Poppy’s barn not three hours ago. Sally was bringing her a script to read, and the bird, anxious about starring in another one of Sally’s plays, suggested that she try to write for another one of her neighbors like Frank or Barnaby.

Thus, Sally sat positively simmering at her inability to write. She wouldn’t say she loathed her neighbors, just everything that they did and stood for. How uptight Frank was, and how loosey-goosey Barnaby was. Such stark opposites, and Sally was expected to write a script even those buffoons could do?

She tapped her pen against the page, then started idly doodling Frank in a very fancy, over-the-top hat. An idea came to the stars head, and she grinned.

“Oh, Sally, you brilliantly bright thing, you! You’ve done it again! Now, to put pen to page and let the ink tell this story!” She said grandiosely, beginning to furiously write upon the paper.

Come the next day, Frank was awoke by a feverish phone call from Sally.

“Mmnnnhello..?” They groaned into the speaker, voice still croaking out of its glaze of sleep. He tried to remain semi-quiet as not to disturb the soundly sleeping mass in their bed.

“Franklin! You must get dressed as soon as possible and meet me at my house! Immediately, do you understand?” Sally asked loudly. Frank whined slightly, taking the receiver away from his ear. It was too loud for this.

“Fine, Fine..” they replied. He was definitely awake now. This was going to be a long day for the etymologist.

A similar call awoke Barnaby. His phone rang ceaselessly for much longer though, as the pampered pooch tended to be a heavy sleeper. Finally, after Sally managed to hurl herself through the beagle’s window, he woke up.

“Barnaby!” The star shouted giving his body a jostle. His eyes opened unevenly and rather slowly. One would think Sally had drug a corpse out from the grave. No, she had just awoken Barnaby from a ruff dream.

“Huh? What? Somebody turn off the lights in here, I’m blind in here-“ Barnaby spoke, already cracking jokes as he batted Sally away with a paw. The actress scoffed.

“Barnaby, you need to wake up right now and get dressed! Or else!” Sally threatened, hands on her hips.

“Or else what? Ya won’t put food in my bowl or give me belly rubs or nothin’?” He asked, rolling over in his bed to face away from Sally. She groaned, tapping her foot on the floor. Her patience was wearing thin.

“Or else I’ll write a play saying that apples are bad for your health and show it to Wally!” She said. Barnaby sighed, falling onto the floor on the other side of his bed.

“Fine, Fine. Yer lucky I’m a sucker fer that lil’ guy.” He said, chuckling.

“Yes. Now get dressed and meet me at my house! There’s no time to waste!” She repeated, running out of his house. Barnaby stood there confused. Today was gonna be weird.

Both Frank and Barnaby ended up at Sally’s house at just about the same time. They entered her front garden, only to find her standing on the roof, looking down at them with a grin. From her vantage point, she threw two thick books of paper down to them.

“There! My latest masterpiece! Barnaby, you will be playing the role of Pirate King. Franklin, you will be the general!” She announced. The two men on the ground looked at each other.

“Sally, how are you expecting us to do this? I don’t even know the first thing about war!” Frank said. They shook their head slightly, flipping through the pages only to be pleasantly surprised.

“I am the very model of a modern major general, I’ve information vegetable, animal, mineral… I know the scientific names of beings and emalculas… I can a hum a fugue of which I’ve heard the musics dine fore?” Frank spoke, a little smile on their face. He chuckled, and Barnaby looked down at his paper.

“With a pirate head an’ a pirate heart… somethin’ somethin’ I am a pirate king… oh I am a pirate king. Swinging around.. bein’ silly.. keep movin’.. sword fight. Hmm.. When I sally forth to seek my prey I help myself in a royal way… Must somehow manage to get through more dirty work than ever I do for I am a pirate king. It is, it is a glorious thing to be a pirate king— woah Sally, you’re really gettin’ the point across. At least I get a sword fight. Frankie here just brags about how smart he is.” Barnaby said with a laugh. Frank’s brow furrowed and they grumbled.

“I know! It’s just like the both of you!” Sally said with a smile. She crossed her arms. Barnaby and Frank exchanged a look. There wasn’t a lot they agreed on, but in this moment it was decidedly so.

“We will not be doing this show, Sally.” Frank said with a smile. Sally paused, looking at them.

“What do you mean you won’t be doing this show?! It’s my best work!” She fumed. Barnaby stepped in, resting an arm on Frank’s perfect hairdo. He grumbled slightly, but kept cool as Barnaby spoke.

“What he said was, we ain’t doin’ yer silly lol’ show, Sal. Ya turned us into our arch-ee-types, an’ that ain’t real nice a ya.” He said, reaching into his pocket to pull out his pipe. He lit it and released a puff as he laughed.

“Besides, there’s no way a little pooch like me would be a pirate king. Or a pirate for that matter! I’ve never stolen once, swear on my mama’s heart.” Barnaby said, crossing himself with his big blue fingers. Sally rolled her eyes.

“But I need someone to play the parts! You must play them, you were made for them!” Sally said. Frank moved Barnaby’s arm off of them.

“No, Sally. We refuse to be reduced down to our core elements! We aren’t caricatures of ourselves like how you’ve written us in the script. We are more than just smart and loud.” Frank said. He was really putting his foot down on this one!

“Yeah, you tell ‘er, Frankie! We ain’t just the whipped cream an’ cherry on top! We’re the whole dang hot dog.” Barnaby said. The sentence made both Frank and Sally pause in disgust and disbelief. Sally shook her head.

“Never the matter! I’ll just have… Julie and Howdy play the parts! There!” Sally said. She stomped her foot down. She was clearly upset.

“Whatever, kid. Just call us when ya start showin’ it. We’d love ta watch.” The comedian says, taking another puff of his pipe and walking away.

Frank stayed behind for a moment. He took a breath then approached Sally.

“Look, we’ve never gotten along. But I am interested in seeing more of what this general has to say. You write very eloquently for someone so loud.” They said. The comment was just nice enough, but Sally was smart.

“I heard that, Franklin. You have 5 seconds before I go telling Poppy what you said.” She grinned. Frank started running towards the barn, and Sally gave chase.

She may not have ended up with actors, but at least she’d made her neighbors smile for a moment and pay attention to her. And in the end, that’s all that really matters.

[herrsherofsorrow]

I can’t stop… I keep thinking of more…

Most of these’s ideas are just notes with one or two having some part of their story written so not all of them will have preview.

Let’s Be Friends: This story will take place in season 1 moments before episode 9-10 then following the anime. Although this will be more of a short story so I’ll most likely end it after the Sister school exchange. Reader will be gender neutral in this story.

Preview: “What is that-“ One bully was cut off before what sounded like water being splashed around followed by painful screams mixed with electricity echoing through the alleyway and into the streets for any nearby pedestrians to hear. It goes silent when multiple heavy things drop to the ground, but Junpei wasn’t a fool he knew exactly what fell.  “Was this it for me?” He questions as he sits in silence waiting for whatever killed his bullies to attack him.

“A…Are…O-okay?” The voice was soft and hushed which spooked Junpei causing him to look up at what looks to be a humanoid jellyfish. It was leaning down, head tilted, its eyes were a solid (eye color) that covered the entire eyeball, their (skin tone/color) stretch all over with splashes of other colors. Junpei couldn't help but be curious seeing as it had no intention of hurting him. “Are…okay?” It-No, they asked again.

“Huh?… y…yeah” Junpei jumped to respond and quickly moved to stand. The humanoid jellyfish let out a hum while bobbing up and down in joy, confusing Junpei even more but a small smile forms followed by a short laugh. 

Clockwork {Temporarily Title}: This story will take place in season 1 but has yet to be decided exactly where in the show. I mostly have it on it’s own path. Reader will be male in this story.

Description: A sudden distortion was detected by the jujutsu sorcerer under orders they investigated only to go missing. The Higher-ups ordered the Yomatoto family to assemble a small group to investigate the sorcerer’s disappearance and the distortion. Three weeks of no contact, Gojo suddenly receives a texted from Yomatoto Sho, the hair of the Yomatoto clan requesting aid.

Bit of a Preview: If Gojo had favors the Yomatoto family would be on the top of the list unlike most they take in those born into clans without or little curse energy teaching them on how to use curse tools and such, willing of course. Funny enough they are also where Maki get her glasses from. People like them are needed so when Gojo received a message from Sho, he acted as soon as possible.

When he arrived to Sho’s location, something prevented him from teleporting exactly to his destination and he ended up nearby. He immediately sensed the distortion that Sho was talking about, so instead of entering the area he decided to observe first. He could spot Sho and other sorcerers; what was strange is that they remained still, unmoving.

Reborn and Rebirth {Temporarily Title}: This story will take place in season 1 moments before episode 1 and will follow out the anime, how far is undecided. Reader will be female in this story.

Description: During the Heian Era, Sukuna had a wife who was nine weeks pregnant. Not many scriptures could properly depict who is the wife was or what she meant to Sukuna seeing as the very curse kept her hidden from others except Uraume after her pregnancy was discovered. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough, when Sukuna was defeated the sorcerers had their next target in mind.

Bit of a Preview: Uraume had been moments late to save their master’s wife, freezing every sorcerer in that room allowing them to see the mess they left. The sorcerers had decapitated her head, cut open her stomach, and ripped out the fetus out onto the floor by the mother’s stomach. Much to Uraume’s surprise it was somehow alive, wiggling and thriving. The fetus, letting out cries as if it was a newborn. Uraume waste no time picking up the fetus and place in a what use to be a jewelry box. Though out the years they had kept the fetus will them until they could find a suitable surrogate mother for it.

Beyond The Grave {Temporarily Title}: This story takes place in season 2 undecided if it will follow out the anime. Reader will be a female in this story and the age of 6-7. Funny enough this story had be in works for a while when I discovered season 2 was underway but I never got to post it because there something I wanted to change when I finished chapter one

Preview: Once Suguru stood in front of his mother did he speak, “Hey, mom.” Mrs. Getou wasted no time putting her son into a tight hug, her head resting on his chest.

“Ah, look at you.” Mrs. Getou pulled back, reaching her hand up to move a bang that rested over his left eye and out the way so she could get a better look at his face. 

“Mom, please.” Suguru moves his face away from her hand and out of her grip, stepping to the side to reveal Satoru and Shoko, he was feeling slightly embarrassed. He lets out a cough and motions towards his friends. “Mom, Gojo Satoru and Ieiri Shoko. Guys, my mother.”  

“Oh hush,“ Mrs Getou lightly pats Surguru’s shoulder before ushering the teenagers to follow after her, “A pleasure to meet you two, Now come in come in.” The three quickly enter the house and take off their shoes as Mrs. Getou closes the door. 

Something was off, Suguru couldn't pinpointed exactly what it was but he could feel it. He glanced at Satoru and Shoko, noticing that Shoko did the same while Satoru kept his eyes forward but nodded his head acknowledging the situation.

“Why don’t you guys rest, I bet you three are tired from the trip. Dinner’s is gonna take a while,” Mrs. Getou led Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko to the living room before heading off to the kitchen, “We would have finished early, If someone hadn’t left the kitchen unattended!” She raised her voice but not quite yelling.

Suguru takes a seat on the couch next to Shoko, who was examining a few papers in her hand, they looked to be drawings. Satoru moves to the recliner when he notices a worn out plush which he assumes is an {animal}, the plush was missing an eye and had stitches all over. Satoru takes the plush in his hand and sits down, he notices a faint curse energy on the plush. Suguru takes a moment to look around the room; across the room there was a TV playing some cartoons, in front of the couch was a coffee table with more blank pieces of paper and colored pencils were displayed.

Dance With Us {Temporarily Title}: This story takes place in season 2 but won’t be following out the anime, although it’s debatable if it will or not in the future. Reader will be female in this story and may potentially contain smut, undecided if it will. This story is more a testing my abilities since I never written an a/b/o or omegaverse, I attempted smut before but deleted them.

Description: Gojo Satoru is in a predicament being forced by Jujutsu Higher-ups to an arranged marriage with a rare omega born with cursed technique when his heart belongs to his best friend and lover, Getou Suguru. Despite the two being alphas and agreed to wait until they were older to properly mark each other but it seems like waiting bit them in the ass. Only for the two end up falling head over heels in love with the omega. What are the two suppose to do?! Satoru doesn’t wish to steal from his best friend and Suguru doesn’t wish to do the same towards Satoru. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!! Someone tell them that packs exist and that Satoru and Suguru subconsciously already crated one between them.

[wonderswritings]

Reapers Fall 3: Memories of a Promise

Summary: One moment, it only takes one moment. Pairings: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader Reapers Fall  Ready to Comply

☠

Time. Once you’ve lost it, you can never get it back. Time is endless when you are in pain. Two years ago, you died, and Simon died with you. For a year, he lived with the knowledge that he had failed you, and you had died in pain and alone. He blamed himself, and threw himself into missions, not caring about his own safety as he went from one mission to next without break. And then, a year later, his world was tilted off its axis once more. You were alive. You were alive and standing in front of him. And then, as quickly as you returned, you’d disappeared. For a year, him and the rest of 141 searched for you. But while their leads came up empty, you were completing missions. In the span of a year, you had created a new name for yourself, a new identity that caused fear in those who heard even a whisper of your name. The Phantom who appeared and disappeared, leaving behind dead bodies. No one knew anything about you, except that anyone who faced you would die. There’d be no witnesses, no cameras catching you in the act, just bodies. Bodies upon bodies. You were the Phantom, but he was the Ghost and he would do whatever it takes to bring you back.

☠

The day of your funeral, it rained. From sunup to sun down, it rained. And at the time of your funeral, it poured. A storm rolling in as the casket was lowered into the ground. 141 sat in the front, the other seats filled with people you’d worked with, others there for support. But Ghost? No one saw him. They didn’t even believe he’d showed up. But he was there, hidden in the shadows in the back. When everyone had left, he was still there, unmoving as he stared at the uneven ground. The flowers that laid on top and around mocked him, and as he turned to leave, a flash of lightning hit in the distance, illuminating the area before he left. For three months, he avoided the cemetery, when one night, as the rain started to pick up, reminding him of that day, he made his way to the cemetery. Even though he’d only been there once before, he had the path memorized. His chest became heavy as he came to the tree that stood over your grave, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the gravestone. He had no idea who had picked it, but looking at it it didn’t feel as though it did enough justice for you. With a huff he sat down, the rain seeping into his clothes as he held a blank stare with the gravestone. 

“Yo- I- I hate you. You lied. You made a promise and you broke it. You left me. You were the person who loved me when I was unlovable and you left me.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head, huffing slightly. 

“But I- I love you. I will always love you. I’ll see you again, on the other side of the stars.”

That day, when he left your grave for the second time, it solidified that you were gone and you were never coming back. That was the first and last time he’d visited your grave.

☠

Now, Ghost was forced to leave the base, orders given to take the day, relax. As if he’d ever relax. He wouldn’t relax until you were back, back where you belonged. The car that’d brought him into the city left him, with explicit instructions that they wouldn’t return until he’d spent twenty-four hours off of base property. With no particular destination in mind, he began to walk. He walked for hours before he stopped, frozen. The sign on the gate glared back at him, and as he turned his gaze, he was able to see the tree that haunted him. Huffing slightly he walked through the gate, following the familiar path before he came to a stop, glaring at the headstone. It’d been a year and a half since he’d last come to the grave, and he had no intentions of ever stepping foot here again. His eyes followed the lettering that spelled your name, the gold letters shining in the light. He glared at the numbers that symbolize your death, scoffing. For two years, he’d mourned. He’d mourned you, the life you both could’ve had together. And it was all a lie. A lie because you weren’t dead, you were alive. He should’ve fought harder. He should’ve fought to go back to that stupid town, he should’ve fought for them to keep your status as MIA and not KIA, he should’ve refused to let them bury an empty casket. He should’ve, he should’ve. 

“You- you kept your promise. You came back. You came back, to me. You kept your promise, but I didn’t. I didn’t and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I’m going to keep it now. I will find you. I’ll find you and bring you back. I’ll bring you back home. I promise.”

The last time he left the cemetery, his shoulders were tense, his steps heavy and his heart buried in the ground next to you. Now, his steps were light, and his heart was beating with something he’d lost some time ago, hope.

☠

Sitting in the chair, you said nothing as your handler spoke with the doctors. Your mind was still hazy, trying to piece together what happened on the mission. Your orders were clear, find the enemy combatants and neutralize them. After you’d blown up the building two of them were in, you moved to take out the one who was in the building, picking the team assigned as your backup one by one. When you found him, a fight broke out between you both, going from the building to the square, and after he’d kicked you in the face, your mask that you were forced to wear every time you left the base had fallen off, you slowly turned back towards him, looking up at him. You both stared at each other, when he yelled.

“No! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

You slightly glared as you glanced over at the burning building, huffing. The two inside must’ve survived.

“It’s- it’s Grim.”

His voice broke as he said a name, causing you to make a face as you tilted your head to the side.

“Who the hell is that?”

You looked down when you saw something from the corner of your eye, watching as the small smoke grenade came to a stop between you both, going off. As the smoke filled the area, hands grabbed you, and you turned, seeing your head guard glaring at you as he dragged you away, the man screaming the unfamiliar name before you were shoved into the van, a needle being pressed to your neck, the last thing you heard was the man’s voice breaking as he screamed. Now, your handler was yelling, screaming in the faces of the doctors. Making a face you looked up, looking over at your handler, repeating the name that you’d heard, causing everyone to stop and turn towards you.

“Who is that?”

Your handler walked towards you, shaking his head.

“No one.”

“The man, he- he knew me.”

“Yes. You’ve met him before, on the mission that led you to be transferred into our care. He’s the one who hurt you, who killed you. He’s your mission. Him and his team.”

You slightly made a face as you turned, looking up at your handler.

“But I- I know him.”

Your handler glared as he turned towards the doctors.

“She shouldn’t remember anything. The memory wipes worked, those were your words.”

You watched as he lifted his gun, shooting the lead doctor in the head, causing the other two doctors to jump as the lead doctor fell to the floor.

“Fix her, or you’ll be the next dead body.”

They nodded, rushing towards you. In a flurry of movements, the chair began to move, and a mouth guard was placed in you mouth once the chair was laying flat. The machine began to whirl, the buzzing growing louder as it moved over your head. The doctors moved the correct pieces into place, and once they stepped back, your body convulsed as the shocks pulsed through your head. 

“I promise, I will always come back to you. I’ll see you soon.”

The mouth guard muffled your screams as your eyes welled with tears. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

Reaper’s Fall Tags:

@derpoonsunbloom

@daryldixonh0e

Everything Tags:

@jedi-dreea 

@scarlett-witchhh

@sammysgirl1997

@cevans-winchester

@rafecameronswhore

@jennmurawski13-writes

[gamerkats]

Beiges, browns, and blacks; exactly what she imagined when she’d loomed the street walk below. Sure, there was the odd accent of reds, or fleck of whites, the decorative splashing of art and ferns, but it was as basic a power play as ever. Granite, marbles, exposed steel beams in places for a show of strength, and being in touch with one’s blue-collar roots. Not that the hands that opened the double doors—with their elongated golden handles, and monogrammed etchings—had ever done a blue-collar’s work in a forebear’s age.

She was stories high now, with many NDAs to keep the tales to herself. An elevator had brought her to this towering floor, but it was the love of law that raised her. Pressing her hand upon her knee held her anxious foot still from tapping. This wasn’t the place to show any weakness. Any tell. Especially not before the king, himself, who read voraciously over the papers she’d given.

At first, it was a passing glance upon the long-dried ink. He’d thought she’d been playing. A child. Someone young and naïve enough to climb a jungle gym where giants swung the vines, and venom rivered slides. A few pleasant passive remarks, a practiced playboy’s laugh. He was content to push her swing; allowing her to go as high as she’d like with her initial presentation.

But now, he was gravely quiet.

Only the faintest of blue flicks, from a serious gaze, that she caught with a ghost of a smirk. It was no longer fun. No longer a game. Yes, she’d come to this meeting in a messy bun, large glasses, over a simple grey t-shirt and jeans. Not at all what the three-piece before her expected to see walking through his door. Her degree was from community colleges and state schools. Her practice was nonexistent, with a GPA and accolades worthy of a fridge. She was a nothing. A nobody.

But right now—in a room that was large enough for a single family, amid more money than the average person could fathom—she was everything.

Clearing his throat, he eased back within a leather chair slightly too big for him. “How did you get this information?”

“I’m not at liberty to reveal my sources.” She forced herself to keep from crossing her arms; presenting as confident and placid.

Another moment slid by as he eyed her careful. Oh, how he wanted to tear her apart. Each and every speck of her skin felt the chill of his ire. “What is it you want?”

Not the second question she was expecting, but it was on her practiced list. “Justice,” her answer was as cool as the ice that clicked within his octagonal introductory glass.

“This isn’t justice,” he bit like a cornered dog, “this is black mail.”

“No,” she shook her head, “this is a subpoena. Criminals use black mail—I’d think you were familiar with that, judging by your activities. I’m taking you, and all those you work with, to court. I wanted it to come from me directly; I’m slapping you with a legal gauntlet, as it were. And since you hold the most money and influence among your peers, I’m giving you a chance to warn them I'm coming.”

“This will never hold up,” he stated, leaning forward upon the polished, old wood of his large desk. It felt like the cement holding back a dam, and she but a simple town below. Too stupid to move, too knowledgeable to stay. “This will never see the inside of a court room. I’ll bury you under so much litigation, you’ll suffocate.”

“You really don’t understand the law, do you?” She stood now; it was the only way to keep from shaking under his iced wind. “You, and your colleagues, are not only working as an illegal corporation, but you’re also criminals feeding a system whose only function is recidivism. It’s time you paid for your crimes and true justice protects the streets.”

“You’re going to hear from every top law agency in the world,” he warned, “you should rethink this. You’re obviously smart, and more tenacious than you appear. You know what will happen if you proceed. People are going to get hurt. Innocent people.”

“Are they?” she almost laughed. If he was any more predictable, he’d be a clock. “Tell me, has crime gone up or down since—” Shaking her head a little, she spoke over her shoulder as she began to leave the room. Already she’d stayed too long, and didn’t want to be accused of badgering. “Never mind. You have the papers. When next we meet, it will be before a judge. You can tell them your worries, and how you think you should remain hidden and in operation. Thank you for your time; I know you’re a busy man.”

“You’re making a mistake,” he whipped upon her back, and she felt the sting of its weight in a small shudder, “Neither myself, nor those on this list, are criminals.”

The door was heavier than she remembered when first she’d entered the beast’s den. Yet, it gave way to her as all her future opponents would. “Yes, you are,” she gave him a gaze that turned him instantly to stone, “Vigilantism is a crime. And it’s high time that you, and your super colleagues, learned what due process and legal rights truly are. I’ll see you in court, Mr. Wayne. No litigation hail storm you send will stop that from happening. But if it makes you feel better, you can decide which costume you’ll wear.”

[ayda--demir]

A TOMORROW WITHOUT YOU Where: Tamamen Dolu When: 19th of March, 2024 Trigger Warning: heartbreak

Ayda sat tucked in the left corner with an askew of papers scattered across the table. The reality of the name scribbled on certain places on all of them constantly had her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach. Planning funerals in Haringey had been a skill she acquired over the last year, but this one, it felt like her world had been ripped from underneath her. 

Berat’s mother was barely keeping herself together and adding this to things that needed to be done, it was better to take off her plate. It didn’t mean it was going to be any easier for her. Her fingers absentmindedly trace over the engraved heart and initials, finding her mind start to wander. 

“Don’t drop your foot back, you are going to lose your centre and your punch won’t have the strength you need. You’re getting better.”  “I must have a good teacher.”  His smile. She was a goner the second she had met him and he smiled at her. She had never felt butterflies the way he gave them to her. Drawn to him like a magnet where Ayda would find any reason to be around him. Even if he joked about her stalking him. There was some partial truth to his joke. She would find any reason to be around him.  “It’s just a black eye, Adya. You are wasting a perfectly good steak.” “Don’t worry, I have three more. One for me and two for you.”  HIs endless stomach. It had always amazed her how it was bottomless. That no matter how much food she would make, or order, she had to make three times the amount before he would feel slightly full. She didn’t mind. One of her favourite things was cooking for him. He always appreciated what was in front of him and it was her way to show her love for him. A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  “I love you.” “I love you, too.” His love. The first time he ever uttered those words to her, she felt like she had won the lottery. That someone like him would love her considering her family and how the sight of blood would cause her to throw up. He looked past her flaws and still wanted to be with her. He wanted to build that future with her. And the fact they both talked about stepping away from the life that would surely bring them to their grave early, showed that he was more than what people made him out to be. He was her everything.  “Sometimes I question your sanity.”  “Please Berat, you want to do this just as much as I do.”  His sense of humour. He could make her laugh, right from the belly sort of laugh, and if it hit you right, crying in tears laughing. When she was down and trying to figure things out, he was there to put a smile on her face. Ayda was one to overthink and overplan, that sometimes she forgot to live in the moment and he would always remind her that those things were insignificant. That all they had was today, tomorrow was never promised.  “Hey, it will be alright. I’ll always be here to protect you.”  “I’ll always be here to protect you, too.”  His loyalty. He was loyal to a fault. It didn’t mean he didn’t make mistakes, but it meant that at the end of the day he would stand behind you. Ayda never had to question where she stood with him. Throughout their relationship, he was faithful with golden retriever vibes. He was her home. It didn’t matter where they were, all she needed was him beside her and they could get through anything. 

Her body jumped at the feel of arms around her, pulled back from the thoughts that haunted her, and it took her a moment to release how wet her cheeks were and how her body trembled. 

“Shhhh, Çiçeğim.” A kiss is placed on top of her head, pulling her in tight to him. Who would have thought Mehmet Demir would comfort his daughter. 

In the state that she was in, questioning him was the last thing on her mind. It was a moment where she did need her father, no matter the turmoil that laid between them. Her arms wrap around him, burying her face into his shoulder. 

“It can’t be real. He can’t be gone.” She sobs into his shoulder, wishing for anyone to tell her that it was all a mistake. “Please, Pa. He didn’t deserve this.” She had failed him. They promised to protect each other and she couldn’t even do that. She was tired of watching the people she loved die. 

“Let’s go home.” His head nodded and one of his men collected her papers while he helped stand her up. She knew he wouldn’t say words he didn’t mean, but the gesture of comfort he was giving her, was unexpected and out of his character; at least to her. 

Ayda was breaking. Their relationship may have ended years ago, but after spending half her life with him, letting go completely was not the easiest feat. She followed beside her father and when she reached the door, glossy puffy  hues glanced back at the table where memories manifested: two teenagers sat at the table tucked in the left corner laughing over plates of food who had the whole world in front of them. 

[big-cheesy-productions]

The Loose Ends

Pathfinder Pirate Campaign Character Reflection

Session 16

Content Warnings: Putting this at the top this time because this was a heavy session. This character reflection explores the thoughts of a character who is dying. Themes of death, dying, and grief are present throughout. Fortunately, there is a happy ending.

Context: After being tossed from the ship and fighting the aboleth, the party was pulled aboard and the worst of it seemed to be over, until Yunma, Edward, and Jhara collapsed, their skin drying and cracking, and getting worse and worse by the hour. No regular healing or medicine seemed to reverse it. It was some effect of aboleth, and no one knew what to do. As the three of them lay dying, they shared what they believed would be their last words, as Piper fought and begged and bargained to try to save them, to no avail. Yunma, however, sharing a link with his twin sister Esme, was able to commune with her and she had a key piece of information: they needed a curse-breaker. Quite literally at the last moment possible, Vida, the ship’s quartermaster was able to cast remove curse over them, and after several days of recovery, Jhara, Edward, and Yunma finally awoke.

~

The captain was a bad liar. 

When Monk revived me on the deck, and I saw Piper and Yunma pulled aboard, I thought the worst of it was over. I tried to help the other wounded, but I could no longer stand. I collapsed, as did Edward. It was dire, whatever this was. We were fading and fading fast.

I think of my crew. Being away from them was like missing a limb, a whole part of me. We were one, broken into pieces and scattered. They are lost and I will never find them, never hear their voices or feel their embraces. 

I think of this crew, still new and strange, but I found my place within it. They visit our bedsides often, Vida, Zula, Monk, and even the Captain. They care, even in the short time we’ve known them. If I had tears to spare, I might shed them. I had them all wrong. In my grief I was bitter, but they are a family like Vida said, and Zula and Monk are my friends, and they would make us family too. They are trying to save us, but I don’t know if they can.

I think of Yunma, fresh to the world outside his village, with only a taste of the wonders it held. This wasn’t how it should be. This wasn’t what this life was meant to be like. He has a duty, he couldn’t fail it like this. I think of his sister and I think of mine. What must it feel like, to lose your half with a link like he has? What would Esme feel? Would she not know until she slept and he did not appear? What would Unerri think if I never came home again?

I think of her, Uni, and Mamá, too. I’ll never come home again, to see the beaches and feel the soft sand, to sit at Papá’s grave. I haven’t been home in years. Shame and guilt kept me away. And now they’ll never know the truth. Or they will and know I haven’t been honest. Will they hate me even more than I’m sure they already do?

I think of Edward. I didn’t expect him. It was understated, quiet. He had become my land when I was drowning and I didn’t even realize. He had pulled me along and became a safe harbor in a storm. At the very least, I try to take comfort in the fact that we will enter the unknown together.

I think of those I may meet beyond the sea, the faces that may wait for me. I’m not religious, but I hope they’re there. Dhul, Kohaku, Zelfaen, Rali, Papá. I hope they’re there to greet us and guide us to whatever awaits.

But most of all, most of all I think of Piper. The thought of us leaving her here alone is more debilitating than the curse. That thought may kill me first. I didn’t care about the pain, the cracking skin, the burning. I took her hand and I held it tight. She deserved everything. I offered her the Watch, my crew, my family. Any of them to look out for her. She would not be alone. I wouldn’t allow it. Kaela said it takes a wild amount of will to keep a spirit bound to this world, and this might be enough to keep me here after my body is gone.

With Kaela holding my one hand and Piper holding the other, I drift off, not knowing what awaits when the dark takes me. I do not dream.

When I wake, for a moment I think I must have died. I do not hurt anymore. The pain is gone. And then a mass of hair is in my face, and arms are constricting around me. It is Piper, and I am alive, and I am holding her, and Edward is here and alive, and Yunma is here and alive, and we are alive. By some miracle- no, by Yunma’s sister and Vida’s magic, we made it. The crew is happy to see us too and the tears I couldn’t shed earlier fall now, and I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to. 

And finally, a sight almost as beautiful as my friends with healed bodies and bright faces fills the horizon: Zaragoza.

~

There was lots of emotion this session, but fortunately we all made it through! Feel free to send me any questions!