#cad writes fanfic

[cadmusfly]

Inspired by the rambling I did on @impetuous-impulse ‘s posts I had an inkling of a marshalate fic idea that I probably won’t write because it has a bit of conceptual overlap with Night At The Marshalate and I need to poke that

But basically some kind of surreal dreamlike fic where Napoleon and the marshals are in a strange fairytale afterlife where their personas and appearances are shaped by their legacies and historical viewpoints, and the disconnect between that and how they remember themselves to be and yeah that’s another layer of inaccurate interpretation via me but we need to cut off that infinite regression

But also, and historical RPF shippingness ahead:

Napoleon would be grandiose, short, a towering conqueror, statuesque and beautiful but also monstrous and hungry

And you contrast this with Lannes who was struck down in his prime as the Roland or Achilles of the Grande Armee, a knight-hero beloved and flattened into bravery and tragedy

But even if Napoleon is an ogre or a tyrant or a beast or a mythologised marble statue, this knight-hero Lannes will follow him loyally even into the night

(And then you have Roi Nicolas Soult characterised by a slanderous tortured ambition, holding a crowned laughing mask over his scowling face

Fiery Ney burning forever in defiance, and how he haunts those who outlived him, a veritable Marley in chains of bravery and honour-

Haunting the “little drummer boy” Victor of the sunny face and guilty mind

Scintillating Murat who has been characterised as a foppish idiot who didn’t know what to do with power, looking into cracked mirrors

I could keep going on but look weird dreamlike fairytales is a genre I enjoy way too much)

And yes this is also inspired by fgo napoleon I think Murat is peak Rider and Lannes is peak Saber

[sinisterexaggerator]

Beauty and the Bounty Hunter

Chapter 5: Hungry and Hot to Trot

(Cad Bane x Fem! Reader/OC)

*This is a second person POV (reader) fic / OC fic. It's both. I forgo physical descriptions as much as possible, though yes, you/she has a name, and a personality.

This chapter: Our dear reader wakes up hungry, but Todo doesn't know what to do! Cad Bane has left you stranded on his ship, and with a lack of any food. But it's for your own good; he's gone to find the man that kidnapped you.

Warnings: 18+ for dirty humor, nudity, mention of female anatomy, death, murder, gunfights, dismemberment, reference to fertile cycles and alien biology aka horny old man Bane headcanon, and one sassy droid.

Word count: 7.6k

Notes: I could have kept writing as I have so much ground to cover, and it has been nearly a year since I've updated. SORRY ABOUT THAT. Life got a bit in the way. I hope you enjoy this chapter, however, and I plan to keep this series going until the end, no matter how long it takes.

BATBH: Masterpost

Ao3

THIS IS A CRACK FIC! Or, as I like to call it: Slapstick Smut.

You are Aurora Ordel and you awoke with a start; you were faced with a face you could not see clearly. You screamed pure, unadulterated murder, then you were promptly gassed; you passed back out again.

“Ah, shit-”

Cad Bane palmed his face. He had acted on impulse; he had released a cloud capable of putting you to sleep; there was a hidden valve residing beneath his wrist gauntlet.

That had not been his intention, though he did not mind that you were quiet, however considering the circumstances he found himself wanting to know if he should have kept those sleemo’s breathing – torture, after all, was not outside his wheelhouse, and intel in this case was priceless.

“Mister Bane, maybe I should be in charge of the prisoner-”

“She ain’t a priss’ner!”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Be out a’couple hours now. Exspectin’ Ah be back b’fore dhen,”

“You are leaving?”

The Duros had paused to lean in close; he could still smell those blasted hooligans all over your damn clothes. A rumble was emitted, the sound tantamount to a displeased grumble; Bane proceeded to rub his rostrum across your neck, chest, and the remnants of your dress.

He had taken to marking you, wanting to replace that putrid stench with his own fragrance without so much as an explanation.

Todo watched on idle, blinking his yellow eyes. All of this was beyond interesting, Bane’s behavioral response absorbed by his many microprocessors.

Cad cleared his throat; he pushed up off you, leaving you to lie there. His brow ridge stitched before he addressed the small metal man off to his left.

“Gonna find dhis Green Hair. Somethin’ don’t add up,” the hunter commented.

“Whatever do you mean? They just seemed like a gang of thugs to me,” Todo followed up.

“She’s too high-profile; jerks like dhat don’t go fer Imps widdout plannin’ on a high payout,” Bane enunciated dryly.

“You mean you think he was coerced to kidnap her, or perhaps even hired?”

Todo looked up as his master checked his gas carts; a quick once over of his gear was common. Even in the middle of a mission, Bane would habitually assess his ammunition, or lack thereof; being put in a tough spot was not something he was fond of.

“Yep,” he affirmed, turning to walk out the door.

“Wait! But Bane, what if-”

“Keep an eye on ‘er!” he interrupted. “Don’t let ‘er out of yer sight,” the Duros finalized, “or it’ll be yer metallic hide.”

Todo groaned; it was a sound usually reserved for humans and other beings. Still, it expressed his feelings, as he was not sure what to do should you wake up.

“This job is among the weirdest yet,” he complained.

Then, he did all he could do; he sat down and stayed watch, ever vigilant.

---

Two standard hours had ticked on by; you heard a few mumbled words as you once more opened up your eyes. This time, you were faced with a droid. You gasped as you scrounged for purchase.

You backed up far enough that you met with the closest wall. Unfortunately, there was nowhere left for you to go. You cursed, wondering what else you had gotten yourself into.

“There is no need to be afraid, we have already met,” Todo articulated, “but just in case: I am Todo 360, techno-service droid, and accomplice to Cad Bane.”

If nothing else, you recognized his voice; your glasses were long-gone. Your vision was blurred at best, though it was difficult to see past his gigantic head.

“Where am I?” you asked, your nails digging diligently into surprisingly soft bedsheets.

“You are aboard the Justifier, and this is where you will remain. Mister Bane has ordered that you stay put until he comes bac-”

You squealed; your voice was shrill. “You mean he’s not here?!”

The frazzled droid zipped a pace away, clearing himself of your immature display. You had begun to shake, or vibrate, trembling of all things.

“Where is he?” you asked desperately.

“He is away,” he replied simply.

“But what if they come back!” you whined, disconcerted.

“Rest assured, you are perfectly secure,” said the twitchy service droid. “There is no safer place for you than on Bane’s ship.”

You looked around, though you could barely make out your surroundings. “Are-are you sure?” you asked more quietly.

Todo chirped, irritated. “Yes, I am sure. Now, just sit still and wait patiently. I am positive Bane will be back any— Excuse me! Where are you going?” he demanded of you as you had risen to your feet.

“I feel faint,” you admitted, not seeming to remember that you hadn’t eaten in nearly three whole days; your stomach had begun to gnaw at you, craving food.

“Then why are you standing?” Todo argued, tugging at the edge of your torn and sullied dress.

“You have something, don’t you?” you inquired weakly as you stumbled across the room.

Todo sighed a human-sounding sigh, releasing his slight grip. He had to think about it. “I do not believe you will be interested in what Bane has to eat,” he explained succinctly.

“I don’t care, anything—” you managed, walking out into the hall. You were faced with a row of doors. You were not sure which to try, so you went by one at a time.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Todo scolded you as you entered what looked like a workshop of some kind; it contained within a mixed assortment of odds and ends. You wondered how he had acquired all of this. If you squinted, you could just make out what looked like clone trooper helmets; among those you thought was a Jedi’s lightsaber.

You opened your mouth to speak; Todo was not having it. “This way, please,” he said, chaperoning you like he might a helpless child.

You weaved to another entry of some sort, this one with locked tight doors. Todo was quick to apprehend you; his weensy body became a barrier. He pushed against your thighs with his tiny hands; they were cold, and the droid was adamant. “No, no! Definitely not in here. This is Bane’s private quarters! He would have both our heads.”

You huffed, exasperated. “Just take me to the kitchen!” Even so, you could not deny you wanted to know what was just on the other side…

“We do not have a kitchen-” Todo corrected you, “-we have a galley, and I am trying!”

“Whatever! Food is food!” you rationalized.

“Yes, so I have heard,” Bane’s droid tittered wryly. “Mister Bane also shares those sentiments, as you will find.”

“Well, good!” you answered in a mood. You would not concern yourself with reading between the lines. Hells, you would take a ration bar; anything was fine!

You continued on your bumbling misadventure; Todo directed you toward an abnormally large lift; you wondered what Bane carried in it. Once inside, you thought that you could smell yourself. Luckily for your inorganic tour guide, he could not tell the difference.

“Oh my God—” you began, hoisting up your arm to take a whiff. Todo shifted, gazing up at you, emotionless.

“What is it now?” he queried.

“I smell awful!” you admitted.

“That must be why Mister Bane rubbed himself all over you,” Todo conjectured.

“He what?!” 

“Truly fascinating, Duros. Although, you ought to know,” the droid complained with attitude.

You gawked at him, not believing you were being sassed by Cad Bane’s companion. Was he angry? Jealous? Protective of his master?

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be!” he explained. “He has been behaving quite differently with you around.”

The door to the lift flew open; Todo hovered out and onward. You had no choice but to follow him.

“How is that my fault?” you dared to ask.

“Well, it is, and it isn’t, you see,” Todo knew there was more to it than that.

You glanced about, finding yourself to be in the bowels of the ship. This was a part of the Justifier you had not seen previously. Not even on the day Cad Bane had dragged you in, keen on being mean, but it had backfired – you were still here.

This area seemed mostly unused, or like a storage space. Every corner was home to an oversized cargo crate. They were quite possibly chock-full of weapons, supplies. Then, on the other hand, there could be ration bars. Your thoughts drifted as did your feet; you were once more cutoff by Cad Bane’s little confidant.

“This way, this way! Do not go snooping. That is one surefire way to get Mister Bane to despise you,” Todo spoke from experience; he often wondered how young Boba Fett was doing.

“It seems like he already despises me,” you mumbled, hungrily marching forward as you finally approached another set of doors; these were double.

“To the contrary,” Todo proffered, causing your eyes to dart in his direction. He ignored the rise in your attention span, passing through into what you had called a “kitchen.”

It was full of pots and pans, plates, bowls, and numerous utensils. Most seemed unused, set to sparkling as Todo was the one who diligently polished them. There were knives, forks, spoons; there was everything but food.

“It’s so clean,” you marveled.

“You may thank me for that,” Todo retorted.

“But what does he even eat?” you whined, traipsing forward, flinging cabinets open and pulling out all the drawers. There was nothing there! Your mind reeled and your stomach growled. That’s when you finally noticed the conservator.

“Meat mostly,” Todo said offhand. “I assumed you knew everything about Mister Bane,” the feisty droid remarked, “though he also consumes what he likes to call ‘roughage.’”

You could only hope that meant salad; you could do with one right now. Or hells, even a steak would be nice, something big and juicy to suffice you. Though, on the other hand, what Todo had said kept nagging. You spouted off a question just as you pulled the door wide open.

“What did you mean ‘to the contrar-’” There was something wrapped in what looked like foil; you made your move, a bold one, to steal the scraps of Bane’s last meal.

“I would not do that!” Todo blurted out.

You pulled the wrapper back; its contents had a face, and worse yet, eyes. The only thing missing was its fur and guts; it was a chunk of flesh, raw, and oozing blood.

“What the fuck!” you exclaimed as you promptly dropped it.

“I did try to warn you,” Todo highlighted, as if he needed to.

You nearly puked, your diaphragm contracting. “That’s disgusting!” you announced.

“Maybe to you-” Todo rebuked “-but Mister Bane quite likes it.”

“Well, Mister Bane is a weirdo!” you retaliated.

“You are one to talk!” the droid rejoined.

Your hand had risen to cover your own mouth, but for what you were not sure; it wasn’t as if you had anything in your stomach to throw up. In doing so, you smelled your armpits. That in and of itself reactivated your gag reflex.

You pouted, stomping down your bare foot. The floors were duralloy and provided full resistance. However, you stepped on something squishy. You protested as you almost slipped and fell, your body nearly crumpling.

“Grossssss!” you lamented, having come into contact with whatever that dead thing was.

“I need a shower! Shower. Shower. Shower! Right now!” you demanded, beginning to scamper off without so much as knowing where you were headed. You were in such a rush you collided with a wall; you started crying at the injustice of it all.

“Oh my, oh dear,” Todo said as he came forward, prowling around you as he balanced on his thrusters. “Yes, that might do you some good. Mister Bane always feels better after a long stint in the shower. But it is back upstairs, I am afraid.”

“Take me there,” you pleaded, a hand cupping your bruised shoulder. Todo complied with your request; soon you were back on the lift.

For once, you were silent. You were tired and oh, so hungry. Your body needed energy; you moved more slowly. Todo noticed your decreased speed; he puttered around you in small circles – doing as he was ordered – yet not having the ability to meet your every need. He could only hope Bane would come back soon, as he was not sure what to do for this human woman.

You found yourself once more near Bane’s quarters, being directed to a small refresher. You nearly collapsed just inside the entrance, trying your best to undress yourself.

“Oh, uh—” Todo began, tapping metal against metal as his fingers joined together, obviously somewhat perplexed or even agitated, “—I’ll just be over here,” he stated, leaving.

You had paid the droid no mind, tugging the shreds of your clothes off that remained. You discarded your bra, then the dress as well – straight into the trash bin. Your panties were MIA, but you would burn in hell before you ever wore those things again. Besides, they smelled like others and not just you; you had put two and two together at Todo’s mention.

In theory, it was endearing. It brought you back to Todo’s comment of “to the contrary.” You hummed a little to yourself as you turned the shower on, relaxing against the wall as real liquid started streaming over you.

“Thank fuck,” you mumbled; at least he had the good stuff, sonic vibrations never did quite cut it as per your preference; he must have had a tank of water on reserve.

You let your body slide down, down, until you sat right in it. It was the most luxurious, blissful thing to happen to you in the last three days. You closed your eyes as you tried to regain your peace, but then a thought occurred to you; you had no more clothes to change into. What were you supposed to do?

For the moment, you tried not to let it worry you; the water felt too good. You breathed out a laggard sigh as you finally opened up your eyes.

You stood; your hunger was once more overpowering; you let the water stream down your face and hair, wanting to just stay there, yet the rumbling in your stomach was not a thing to be ignored. Truth be told, you still felt nauseous, finally calling out to Todo whom you thought was just outside the room.

“Excuse me, little droid? Are you there?”

It took him hardly any time to answer you. “I am afraid so,” he said sourly.

You quirked a brow; his tone abruptly changed. He now seemed eager, his programming dictating he was happiest when serving others in some capacity. “How may I be of assistance?”

You attention had been diverted; you were examining some kind of cleaning substance. It was meant to help slough off dry, dead scales; you would not use it for fear of what might happen to you. Your only hope was for some soap. That, or whatever you could find in terms of clothes; as long as they were clean and somewhat fit, you did not care one bit.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to walk around naked if you can’t find something for me to wear,” you called out to him, your voice being carried beyond the sound of running water and the boundary of the door.

Something sparked in Todo’s droid brain, causing gears to whorl and whirl; he knew just the thing! Something he thought might be more your size, as his master was tall and gangly. “Just a moment! Wait right here,” he insisted.

You heard him buzz off down the hall, then there was total silence. You allowed yourself a nice long soak, taking your time beneath the warm spray of the water. You drank from it to quench your thirst by leaving your mouth wide open; you were sure you were dehydrated. Then, you allowed it to saturate your tangled strands; it ran through all your nooks and crannies.

This would have to do until you could get back to your roost; the penthouse you called your home, seated in the lap of luxury right here on Coruscant. Or at least you thought…

As a matter of fact, you had no idea where you were or where you’d been; you were now trapped here on Cad Bane’s starship. Wherever it happened to be, that is. You had no way of knowing your coordinates, and the refresher had no viewports; it was just as well so people couldn’t spy on you.

You waited for what you felt was much too long; you turned the water off. You attained a towel, though it seemed used. You gingerly rubbed your nose in it; it smelled like Duros.

“Ummmph,” you vocalized, happy, horny, distraught, and needy all at the same time. His scent was heady. You felt you couldn’t think straight, having a wicked and troubling idea tickle your jumbled brain.

“Todo?” you tried for the droid once more; he did not answer. You opened the refresher and tiptoed out, buck naked, into the narrow corridor.

You were relieved to get no response, slinking like a tooka toward Bane’s living quarters; Todo had made it very clear to not go in here, but you only knew one thing, the thing that drove you: inside this room behind the door were Cad Bane’s extra clothes.

It did not take much effort; you pried a panel loose. Even without your glasses, this was elementary; you could rewire an automated entry with your eyes closed – too easy.

Once inside, the door again shut tight; you did not pay it any mind, as your eyes went wide, mesmerized by a plethora of mishmash things, and even trinkets. Everywhere you looked was something pretty, shiny, or otherwise unique; Cad Bane had expensive tastes for a rough and tumble mercenary.

There were unmarked credits on the bed, gold coins of unknown origin, an extra hat – which you picked up and put right on your head – and loads of other fascinating stuff.

His blankets were pristine and plush, his pillows fluffy and silky smooth. Off to one side was a box full of random treasures, one you recognized as Durosian if you squinted; you wondered if he collected artifacts from his species’ culture as a hobby, or just because it was worth something.

You blindly plundered through his drawers; there were stolen bounty fobs and palm-sized holoprojectors with secret messages. There was a datapad or two, and a box of toothpicks. You were tempted to snoop more thoroughly, but after what Todo said… You did not want Cad Bane to have your head; you wanted him in bed.

Finally, you found what you came here for -  something belonging to the man that you could wear. You had located what appeared to be a dress shirt with long sleeves; it was white with buttons down the front and hit just above your knees. You at once adorned it, inspecting yourself in a full-length mirror; you wondered if Bane often stood right here when admiring himself; you could not blame him.

You sniffed your prize and nearly melted on the spot. Satisfied, you turned around to exit. The moment your hand touched durasteel a loud noise sent you reeling. You covered up your ears as you had triggered an alarm, a screen descending from the ceiling as a recording of Bane himself played automatically before your bleary eyes.

“Stupid is as stupid does,” the Duros drawled; your breath was heavy as the sirens refused to stop their bleating. You tugged at another access hatch; you began to dislocate and mismatch wires, whining audibly.

“Bane, I’m sorry!”

The recording snickered as if he had heard you through the viewscreen, leaning forward to threaten you with the little piece of wood that perpetually lived between his teeth. “And yer about as stupid as dhey come.”

You found your mouth agape as two more things emerged: loaded blaster rifles, snuggly sequestered on either side of the Duros’ depraved yet smiling face. “Say yer prayers,” he directed.

“Oh, please, oh no. No, no!” you pleaded, bending low to shield yourself. You threw your arms above your head and squatted down till you touched the ground, pulling up a chair to act as a makeshift impediment. Blaster shots rang out, rebounding about the room and all of your surroundings. You screamed as if you were being murdered, because you were, then everything went silent.   

You gasped, feeling yourself up; you were all still in one piece, unbelievably. Standing before the now open door was that pesky, life-saving service-droid; within his hands was some kind of drab colored garment.

“What have you done?!” he wailed. “Mister Bane is going to be absolutely furious!” he proclaimed, golden eyes wide in horror and disbelief.

Todo dropped what he was holding, coming around to push against your back. He shoved with all his might, despite you still being on the floor bent down. You tried to come to terms with what just happened, and all due to a shirt; your eyes watered as you let the little robot escort you out.

“And give me that!” he griped, reclaiming the hat upon your head that now suffered a distinctive scorch mark. “Do you have any idea what this cost?!”

“A-a lot?” you asked with a quaver to your voice.

“Yes!” he retorted.

The droid stopped to pick up what had fallen, scooping it up within his arms. He stayed his fury to look at you, tilting his large cranium. “And what is that you are wearing?”

“A shirt I found,” you whispered.

“No, no, you must take that off this instant. I brought you this,” he explained, holding out something worn, brown, and understated. Despite being still terrified and near to tears, you took it to appease him.

“What is it?” you asked sheepishly.

“It is a robe, a Jedi robe, and part of Bane’s collection; he has worn it in the past when needed, and it is a wonderful disguise!”

You gave a little start, looking the thing over. “How did he get it?”

“Surely you know Bane is a Jedi-killer,” Todo quipped, leering at you. “And a most successful one at that. It is his – was – his specialty. They are all dead now, you see.”

“O-oh,” you conceded, then made a face that displayed your distress. “I’m not wearing this!” you contested suddenly.

“And why not?” he fought back, metal hands akimbo on his hips.

“What if I’m mistaken for a Jedi?” you whimpered. “What if someone else tries to kill me?” You dropped the robe, not caring that your – Bane’s shirt - was open. Todo got an eyeful as you retrieved the one thing you could use, a belt that was rather rope-like; you inspected it as Todo gawked, though he didn’t have a mouth.

He made a throaty sound, having seen the outline of your form, the curves and dips, the shape of your bare hips. “Yes, you will do quite nicely,” he commented offhand.

“Excuse me?” you snapped, beginning to button up. You fastened each closure one by one, traveling all the way up to the very top; the belt came next. You soon had fashioned the bounty hunter’s shirt into a dress.

“Well, it seems you are rather good at that! Nearly getting killed, that is, why if it weren’t for Mister Bane—”

“—No, finish that other thought,” you demanded.

Todo sighed for the second or third time, thinking he should have kept his nonexistence lips shut, but it was too late now; he settled down, then began a rather short but interesting tale.

“Duros have a finite reproductive window, and Mister Bane is getting older by the day,” he explained. You cocked a brow but kept on listening. You tried to give him your full attention, but your stomach growled; you needed food right now.

“Walk and talk,” you said.

Todo followed you as you made your way back toward the lift, this time setting course for the location of the boarding ramp; it was at the Justifier’s rear, but you were all ears.

The only thing you didn’t have was your glasses or a pair of shoes; you would make do and go barefoot; you were too hungry to give a damn.

“Well, Mister Bane has been rather grumpy as of late – grumpier than usual – and especially since coming into contact with you,” he remarked.

“I see,” you interjected, yet quite fond of this engrossing notion.

“Therefore, I have come to the conclusion it is best that he mates with you. Once he gets it out of his system, I believe that—”

You burst out laughing; that had already been your plan. “Don’t worry your big head,” you grinned. “Now, wait here.”

Todo looked around, realizing you had dropped the ramp. He had lost track of your destination, instantaneously switching gears as was his very nature, if you could call it that; he was just a culmination of ones and zeros, but it still felt like he had feelings.

“Where do you think you are going? Bane instructed us to both wait here.”

“To the market,” you answered back, having come to the conclusion you were parked somewhere near CoCo Town at a rundown spaceport.

“Come back! You should not disregard what Mister—”

“What’s he going to do, shoot me?” you jested, feeling a teensy bit more like your old self.

“Yes!” he responded, trailing close behind. “Wait! Oh, you—we’re going to be in so much trouble when he gets back!” the droid complained as he endeavored to keep you company.

“Just come with me,” you offered.

Todo bellyached, indignant. “What do you think it is I am doing? He did tell me to keep an eye on you.”

Then, he glared at you. It was rather cute. “I will make sure to tell him I tried to stop you.”

“Mhm, yes, of course,” you simpered, nonplussed, though finding his last confession had warmed your heart; he did care somewhat after all.

---

Cad Bane had assured that you were safe, but at the cost of backtracking, one of his least favorite things. He once more made his way through the Crimson Corridor, headed for the Tusken Oasis as per the Gotal he had killed. He had parked his ship far from this squalid high-crime district, thinking if you stayed aboard the Justifier nothing could go awry - that’s where he was wrong - he had underestimated the power of your stupidity, for however smart you were.

He passed the Green Glowstone Tavern; Bane knew the Bothan bartender who owned the place, yet he would not stop to chat; he had business to attend to, business regarding you.

Still, he tipped his hat; the Bothan waved right back. It was a silent interchange between two men, both busy.

The hunter continued trudging forward; crowds parted for him. Those who scurried he kept an eye on as he traversed the infamous Barsoom Boulevard.

Prostitutes tried flirting with him; a few scoundrels attempted to sell their wares. It was the ones who watched that warranted his attention; they were not clever; the Duros had dealt with all types and kinds of people, and street thugs were no different. He had an inkling that sneaking would be impossible, as these degenerates would most likely run and tell their boss; there was no use hiding –- Cad Bane was on the prowl.

This area of town was the Raptor Gang’s main hideout; he had heard from word of mouth, steadily stalking onward, eyes forward, as he could sense something sinister afoot -- an ambush.

Bane stalled, stopping dead, slowly but surely turning his hat and head. There was an eerie silence the hunter did not trust, fingers loitering above the holster of one LL-30 BlasTech pistol.

“May as well come out, cahn smell ye’ from a klick,” the gunslinger taunted.

Three bodies emerged from behind trash and refuse, big and burly, weapons drawn and at the ready, as if they thought they had anything on him. Bane grinned a sadistic grin. “Let’s make dhis quick.”

Plasma flew as shots were discharged; Cad Bane dodged it all, rolling to take up residence behind the nearest wall. He returned his own deluge of blaster fire; his aim was true. Ignorance had been their downfall; the Duros would persist in his pursuit.

“Better luck next life,” he jeered to the corpses at his feet; he stepped over them, disrespectfully. But there was one person that he did not want to disrespect if he could help it: Yanth the Hutt, owner of the prestigious nightclub for which his course was set. Though there would be no stopping him, even if that meant killing all of Green Hair’s men. Bane would try not to demolish the whole bar, but if he did? So be it.

The Crimson Corridor was empty now due to the pathetic gunmen he had encountered, its residents scared away back into their homes or other dens, places of debauchery and sin. Places Cad Bane rarely frequented except for occasions such as this; he preferred the quiet confines of his ship.

He could hear the music from a hundred yards; a Bith quartet had taken center stage. Lately, they seemed to be all the rage, but Cad Bane could care less; he approached the entrance.

A bouncer tried to guard the way, but the Duros was infamous and greatly feared; it did not take him much convincing. All the hunter did was glare until he took the hint and scrammed, the green Gamorrean deciding he desired to live and fight another day thanks to such little pay.

Bane regarded him as he up and left; he tipped his hat again. He strolled on through, being met with colored lights and statuettes of varying hues and species, some mythological in the form of beasts; the Hutt spared no expense for his well-kept business. It was quite impressive if Bane could be impressed; the only thing that had that affect on him were credits, and you had a lot of them.

There were dejarik boards and tables for sabacc, gambling men and dancing girls. There were women dressed to the nines alongside scum and villainy; all manner of people came here, including those that Cad Bane now searched out.

Twi’leks, Rodians, and Zeltrons batted their lashes at him, trying to distract him if he didn’t know better. He slipped on by, giving a flirtatious squeeze to varying rumps and waists; while he was tempted, everything had a time and place. He left a gaggle of smitten ladies in his wake.

Then, the heat was on. Green Hair sat amongst a slew of bodyguards. There was no doubt that it was him; he was a human male, lean with a wiry build. But he also sported the most ludicrous hairstyle Bane had ever seen; his green hair was kept upright by an electrostatic field. 

The Duros suppressed a laugh, coming off as composed and stoic though inside he was dying. It looked like he had stuck his finger in a socket, the man assuming he was the epitome of style; word around these parts was he was nicknamed “Fashion Plate.”

“Kids dhese days,” Bane mulled internally.

As he descended upon their table - each step slow and full of purpose - Green Hair’s men decided to act like the brutes they were, boxing the Duros inside their little circle. It there was one thing Bane did not like, it was being cornered; his hand returned to rest upon one blaster’s holster. One H'nemthe in particular got right in his face; Bane kept his cool, but cockily insulted him.

“Ah’d say ye’ must be plumb weak north of yer ears-” he heckled, “-but it don’t look like ye’ got any.”

Cad Bane sneered; he had to be one of the most hideous sleemo’s he had ever seen. A reptilian-humanoid as was his ilk, but still— at least he didn’t have three fingers or ridges on his face. He figured he had never mated; their women were said to kill them once they did –- this one was a virgin.

“Couldn’ get laid so ye’ took up clownin’, did ye’?” Bane insinuated.

That was all it took; the H'nemthe drew his pistol. Cad Bane laid him out; one shot and he would precede his brethren in death, but only by mere minutes, seconds - others were ready to avenge his name - but their green-haired leader finally said his piece.

“Let’s not be hasty, shall we?”

“Tell dhat to yer men, dipshit.”

The punk in charge smiled cordially, pretending to welcome Bane with open arms. Reluctantly, his hired guns made room for him to pass, wary, and with scowls upon their ugly mugs.

“The notorious Cad Bane,” Green Hair began. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut de kark,” the Duros seethed. “Who hired ye’.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

The man motioned with one arm as an introduction. “We are the Raptor Gang. This is our turf,” he said more firmly. “We work for no one but ourselves.”

“Dhen yer de one who ordered Ordel captured,” Bane growled with a curl of his upper lip.

“Oh, her,” the bottom-feeder said dismissively. “She’s just some Imp who works for the Empire. Why do you care?”

The hunter grit his fangs, remembering the state in which he found you. While it could be said Bane had done much worse, it still was not a good enough excuse.

“Dhat’s my business—” he glowered, “—but Ah’m about t’make it yers.”

Green Hair side-eyed one of the henchmen to his right; the tension was so thick it could be cut clean through with a vibroknife. The very air was pregnant with unease and animosity, the Duros’ fathomless red eyes studying his adversary. His intent was mal, Bane past the point of being patient. The human could sense his unwavering hostility, mentally preparing for if and when he would have to flee the scene.

The man who had received his subtle signal placed himself between Bane and Green Hair, as was his duty. Bane snidely smiled, taking this opportunity to bruise him; hiding behind a lackey was cowardly. “Didn’ realize Green Hair was so yello’-bellied,” the hunter mocked him.

Green Hair ignored his comment, not allowing it to get the best of him. “We were holding her for ransom,” he explained. “But no one came to collect—except for you,” he clarified.

Then, to add insult to injury, the scuzzball kept on talking; he must have thought he was safe and sound behind the blanket of some odd ten men at his disposal.

“The way I see it, you owe me for damages, bounty hunter. You got the girl, but not without destroying one of my properties and killing several of my crew-” Smugly, he took a drink to wet his tongue before he continued. “-a million credits, and I’ll let you walk away. I just know you’re good for it,” he speculated.

Bane laughed; it was dry and lustless. He had a word of his own to say, hand ever at the ready to pull his weapon should the need arise.

Green Hair had frowned at his response, or the lack of one, knowing that his horde was all eyes and ears and judging him for this; to misstep or slip-up during an interaction could be grounds for reevaluation of his leadership.

“Draw,” Bane said with strong contempt.

Green Hair sat up straight; if his mop didn’t already stand on end, it most assuredly would have. He knew who held his audience and the reputation of this dodgy Duros; it did not ease his fears as Cad Bane stood transfixed, and very serious.

“It’s only fair; I was told she was valuable,” he quickly stated, trying to keep the panic from wholly overtaking him.

Cad Bane’s austere red eyes narrowed. “Told by whom,” he barked the question.

The man dared to shrug, “heard it through the grape vine,” he said simply, so far remaining calm and collected with all his wits about him, but not for long.

“Draw,” the gunslinger echoed.

Green Hair stood up on his dais, one level above the plane on which Cad Bane watched, attentive. He had the nerve to brandish his pointer-finger, extending it to put the blame to Bane.

“Now, wait a minute! You don’t give orders around here, I’m the one who—” That finger was blown clean-off, the Raptor’s leader staring on in shock. The wound was already cauterized; the intense heat of the plasma shot had staunched the flow of blood.

“Don’ got de patience fer no lily-livered, nuna-hearted, blackguard, disssrespectful sssleazebag,” Bane rasped harshly.

“Get him!!!”  Green Hair screeched shrilly, holding his wounded hand with the one that still had all its digits. Bane was closed back in; multiple blaster bolts flew in his direction. The Duros soared sky-high per the activation of his rocket boots; this in turn caused several to drop down dead; they had gone and done his job for him.

“Too slow,” he hissed.

His taunting caused more blasters to start blazing, Bane zipping and zigzagging as he easily avoided their pathetic excuse for aim. He withdrew his second pistol; this was the end game. Not for him, but for the whole of Green Hair’s men.

Multiple rounds were fired; they were continuous. Bane’s LL-30 BlasTech pistols had been modified to suit his needs; they would never overheat. One man went down, and then another; they were dropping like Bahl flies, straight down onto the ornate carpet.

People screamed; innocents, supposedly, though this place was a rumpus room full of crooks and thieves. They dashed about like nunas with their heads cut off, knocking one another over as they scrambled to get out. Still, they had no need to worry; Bane never missed his target, and currently his sights were set on one particular maggot trying to escape his wrath.

Green Hair ran opposite, toward the back of the establishment. Bane assumed there was a hidden exit, or a tunnel he was privy to. With all his enforcers dead, the gutless sack of bantha dung had high-tailed it -- too bad for him he wasn’t faster than Cad Bane’s lariat.

With the actuation of his wrist gauntlet, he let his whipcord launch. It wound around the slimy bastard's ankles, causing him to trip over his own two feet. Bane landed gracefully; he reeled him in, the nails of Green Hair’s remaining fingers digging into the fancy rug.

It was no use; Cad Bane tugged and hauled him back. His quarry hemmed and hawed as he tried to switch his story.

“I don’t know anything!” Green Hair proclaimed to ears now deaf, hidden beneath Bane’s insulated cap and his overly large hat.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Bane snorted as he used his other arm to shoot a stream of grisly flames; they ignited the perps pants, setting them ablaze.

Green Hair screamed and yelled, twisting and turning, although he was still lassoed. He managed to bat the flames out, panting, swearing, and now met face to face with Bane as he dragged him to square up.

“Who sent ye’ afta’ Ordel,” Bane asked again.

“I don’t know, I don’t—”

Bane prepared for the smell of burning flesh. “Liar, liar, face on—” 

“WAIT!”  the asshole bellowed, deciding to change his tune to one more favorable. He breathed in and out, trying to settle himself down as two red eyes, bright as starlight, radiated hatred; this bastard’s luck had just run out-- Cad Bane was not merciful.

“Some guy, old guy. Talked with a funny accent.”

“Ah wanna name,” Bane sizzed angrily.

“Don’t have one— he said she was an engineer! Told us to watch the news. Said she’s valuable to the Empire and they would pay hefty credits to get her back! She’s a brainiac!” he explained hurriedly.

“Yer right stupid, ain’cha. Ye’ think de Empire ain’t gonna just storm yer lil’ hideout if dhey want ‘er?”

Bane glared deep into his eyes; he would both see and sense his fear. People who were scared often withheld information without the proper motivation, but the bounty hunter found he could be quite persuasive.

“Ye’ suppose dhey take kindly to extortion?”

The Duros retrieved one holstered pistol, planting it against the side of Green Hair’s spiky head. He bared his fangs; he had no qualms with offing him.

“And she’s ah brainiac yer men used an’ abused,” he hissed. “Dhere ain’t no lady who deserves dhat, not even an Imp,’ he spat.

“Now—” Bane’s words took on a darker tone, “—give me’a name, or Ah’ll assume yer de one t’answer fer all. dhose. sins,” he finished.

Green Hair truly didn’t have one, just a pseudo he had given him, and what he could remember of his unremarkable appearance.

“I dunno, man! He reached out to me; his frequency was encrypted. I shoulda known this shit was a trap!”

Bane shook and rattled him, a threat to do him in. “Now he’s gettin’ it.”

“Said I could call him-- call him Willy,” Green Hair imparted. “Maybe, he—”

“Maybe he jus’ couldn’ do it ‘imself and knew ye’ were an idiot,” Bane filled in the blanks, throwing the so-called leader of the Raptor’s back down upon the ground. If you took the time to put two and two together, it all made sense; it was an inside job, the suggestion made by one of your trusted colleagues.

“Please, don’t kill me,” the white-livered Green Hair begged.

Bane glanced down at him as if he forgot that he was there. About that time they had a visitor. One unhappy Hutt came slipping and sliding down the carpet, Yanth, the owner of the Tusken Oasis nightclub.

“Explain this!” he thundered in Galactic Basic.

Bane knew Yanth was a Vigo, one of nine, and part of Black Sun’s leadership. He was wealthy and held in high esteem. He oversaw the organization’s operations in this sector of the galaxy. He reported directly to the Underlord; it paid off to know your stuff, as Cad Bane did not want to piss him off.

“Dhis one ‘ere started it,” Bane began, yanking Green Hair up again to toss directly into the hands of one of his two men.

“Was gonna haul him in,” the Duros said all calm and casual, glancing at the shed that lined his fingertips.

“Reckon he owes ye’ some money,” Bane finalized.

“I know you,” the Hutt informed him. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

“Cad Bane, at yer service,” the gunslinger rejoined.

“Hey, that’s not—” Green Hair interrupted.

One of Yanth the Hutt’s men backhanded him across the face; he was nearly knocked out cold, blood spewing from his lips. He now hung limply in the arms of a four-limbed Besalisk. Bane grinned as Green Hair groaned; he couldn’t help it.

“Then I suppose I should thank you for getting the situation under control before it got out of hand,” the slimy Hutt-lord said.

“Tweren’t nothin’,” Bane said with a tip of his wide hat. “Consider it a gift,” he proffered, pulling out a toothpick from the inside pocket of his jacket. “So’ry ‘bout de bodies,” he added, placing his wooden chew toy in his mouth; the Hutt finally took one long glance around.

“I’ve seen worse,” he commented.

“Ah’m sure ye’ have,” Bane quipped offhand. Then, he produced a copy of his calling card; he offered it to Yanth as a way to keep the peace between them.

“If ye’ ever find yerself needin’ a bounty hunta’, give me a buzz,” Bane stated, twirling on his heel for his coat to swirl; he loved making a grand exit; he was known for his showmanship.

Bane walked, alert. He kept his eyes forward, but he was focused on his rear. His ears were sharp and his senses were perceptive. If Yanth tried to turn on him as he made his way, he would be ready, but the only thing he heard was Green Hair yelling as he was dragged along the floor.

With the Hutt in charge, he was in for his comeuppance; Bane did not pity him.

---

Once outside, Bane was unaware his worries would intensify. His first order of business had been to comm his ship and his little droid, but there had been no answer.

“Todo, how’s de lil’ hellcat doin’. Finished ‘ere,” he started, waiting patiently before he became impatient. He could not think of an excuse to be ignored, unless there was a heap of trouble brewing.

“Todo, where are ye’? Answer de comm,” Bane demanded of his companion.

For a few moments, he stopped to wonder; just who among your ranks had it out to kill you? Truth be told, this job was getting out of hand. He had a mind to leave it all behind.

Then, he remembered your annoyingly attractive face, your buxom tits, and all your assets. He would not admit it to himself, but he had somehow formed a slight attachment; he wanted to see you safe if nothing else, you had paid him to do no less.

“Todo…”  He rang his ship a second time, his droid’s name spoken with mild panic. He should have known better than to leave the two of you alone; his scales prickled as he thought of all the things that could go wrong. He had no idea about your hunger, or the lengths that you would go to get a meal, nor did he realize you had solicited his addled sidekick to go somewhere against his will.

“Ye’ gotta be shittin’ me,” Cad Bane declared, igniting his repulsor boots again. This time his aim was for his speeder, parked some few blocks off. He only hoped when he made it to the Justifier that you weren’t dead, or worse.

[cuteasdeath]

I'm wanting to write a fanfic based on Spencer getting kidnapped by Tobias Hankel but I hate the way the show portrays DID. Simply changing the language used to be more accurate doesn’t feel good enough. I'm thinking the best idea might be to remove the DID all together (as much as I want more DID representation in media, I want to keep Hankel as a killer).

Does anyone have any ideas on how to change Hankel’s character so that the story still makes sense but doesn’t have offensive DID stereotypes?

My fanfic does have supernatural elements so my initial idea was that maybe Tobias is literally possessed by the ghost of his father? Don’t know how to add Raphael in though.

[mrs-spockulous]

A little blurb from the Cad Bane x OC story I am writing.

Yes this is incredibly cheesy, yes this story is purely self-indulgent. And it’s not really a story that is going anywhere. Just little prompts and ideas.

But I still think it’s kind of cute…

So OC is an Ex-Jedi that left the order around the time of The Phantom Menace and this is a few years after order 66. Bane and her have been a thing for a while, so it’s established relationship at this point.

OC (her name is Tara) hasn’t been using her force powers a lot, especially not around him. For obvious reasons. She is only now slowly reconnecting to the force after separating herself from it for years. Bane isn’t sure what to make of that yet.

She returned to her original position, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she reached out with her right hand and stayed like that. He could feel the air around her shift slightly, it was familiar, the feeling he always got when the Jedi used the Force against him. But it felt different around her. It didn't make him uneasy, even though something was clearly happening.

Bane looked to where her hand was now pointing and saw another dragonfly land right on her fingertip. It stayed there, even when she withdrew her hand back to them.

She held it out to him, proudly displaying the insect that seemed to trust her for some reason. He hummed and studied it, then her. She looked at him as if expecting him to do something. Then she slowly took his hand and linked their fingers.

The dragonfly seemed hesitant, but ultimately made its way over to Bane’s hand. And… stayed. He'd never held a live insect so close before, but it didn't seem to fear him at all, making itself at home on his finger as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

A part of him was waiting for it to realise who’s hand it was sitting on and flee in terror.

“Didn’t know ya guys could mind-control animals too.” he lifted his hand to his eye level to get a closer look at its colorful wings.

“I’m not controlling anything. I simply relayed that you won’t harm it, but whether it stays with you or not is up to it.”

“So yer talkin’ to it?” he snickered again “Ya sound like one of dose fairytale princesses.”

Tara had to stifle a laugh at his remark. “If I’m a princess, does that make you my white knight?”

Now it was up to Bane to hold back so as not to scare the dragonfly away. “Do I look like a knight to ya? I fight, I drink, I steal… if anythin’ I’m de outlaw who terrorizes yer kingdom with his gang.”

“Sounds a lot more like my kind of life,” she grinned at him. “You think there’s room for me in your gang?”

“Ha. For you? Always.”

I‘m not sure where I‘m going with this. I’ve written a lot but I’m not really confident about it and English isn’t my native language either so who knows. But I liked this part and wanted to share it.

[comehereduck]

This is just an fyi for anyone trying to write about construction industry people.

One cannot draw/draft a blueprint. Blueprints are like photocopies of plans to be handed out to other people.

Architects, engineers,and other professionals that need to present drafts make plans (floor plans, roof plans, ceiling plans, electrical plans, road plans, elevations, etc.) in black ink. When everyone agrees on the final draft, they make blueprints of these plans to distribute to those that need them.

One more thing.

Technical drafting/drawing isn't like free-hand or painting. Trying to draft outside is hard, since lines have to be level, and it's hard to mount paper anywhere that isn't a flat, solid table with 90 degree corners (for the T-square), and some outdoor furniture are not like this. You also don't want the ink to run or the paper to get wet, so no drafting on the floors. Best choice is a portable drafting table/surface if the character really needs to do this outside.

[vampbite083]

Simon's Angels Chapter Eleven

New chapter is now up! Getting close to the crossover point! Read and Review!

FF.net:

AO3:

[readwritejayy]

Dinner Date

(Read on AO3 here)

“Darling, is something wrong?” Emmrich was gazing at her with that sweet, worried look. “You don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t wish.”

“No, no it isn’t that,” Rook said, waving her hand. “I just…I didn’t know this was a date.”

Words: 1,103

Notes: throwing my hat in the ring of “writing fanfic for something that isn’t even out yet”. yes i’m also smitten by the gentleman necromancer and his skeleton companion.

Yes, obviously she felt bad for misunderstanding his request. In Rook’s defense, Emmrich had asked if he could “steal her away” for a night when the team wasn’t running left and right dealing with world-ending problems. And given Emmrich’s propensity for speaking so “proper” (which was evidently rubbing off on her a bit), that could have meant any number of things!

No it couldn’t.

Unfortunately she realized that too late, which was why Rook was currently seated in the kitchen of the Lighthouse in a full suit of armor, while Emmrich was dressed in a handsome white button-up, vest, and trousers. His usual coat was missing, but Rook wasn’t about to complain about seeing more of his slender yet poised form.

When she walked into the kitchen, expecting a quick conversation or something to do with Manfred, she was startled to find the kitchen had been transformed. The lamps were dimmed, the counters were lined with candles meticulously lit and arranged, and the little table now had a vase with a single embrium flower.

Emmrich stood beside one of the chairs, wringing his gloved hands together. When she had started to explain her attire, Emmrich just wore that lovesick smile on his face.

“Yes, you do look every bit as magnificent as you do when you’re wielding that axe and cleaving through darkspawn,” he’d sighed.

So Rook took her seat (after Emmrich had pulled out her chair for her, of course). Manfred walked over from his place in the corner. He wore a bow tie around his bony neck. As he walked, the two wine bottles nestled in his pelvic bone clinked together.

He pulled the two bottles out and waved them enticingly, tilting his head.

“Yes Manfred, thank you,” Emmrich replied. “White wine for myself, and a red for the lady?”

Rook shrugged and gave an apologetic look. “I’m not much of a wine drinker myself.”

“Then you could give it a try tonight,” he suggested. While he spoke, Manfred filled the glass Emmrich held, then the glass in front of Rook. “A nice red is a great place to start, but you’re welcome to a sip from my glass as well.”

The conversation flowed as easily as it always did in Emmrich’s presence. She hardly noticed when Manfred brought out their dinners—a pasta dish Rook was certain she wouldn’t be able to pronounce but would probably sound delightful coming from Emmrich’s lips.

It was lovely. And Rook couldn’t help but feel like she’d somehow tricked Emmrich into thinking she was the kind of person that was “wined and dined”. Yes she’d made a mistake in showing up in full armor, but even if she hadn’t misunderstood, it wasn’t like she had anything fancier to wear. The alternative was the casual clothes she wore under her armor with blood and sweat stains that still didn’t come out.

“Darling, is something wrong?” Emmrich was gazing at her with that sweet, worried look. “You don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t wish.”

“No, no it isn’t that,” Rook said, waving her hand. “I just…I didn’t know this was a date.”

His brow raised. Emmrich set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin.

“My dear, I deeply apologize for the misunderstanding,” he explained. “I should have been more clear. You must think me a horrible cad. I can walk you back if you’d like to go…or perhaps you wouldn’t like that—“

“No I didn’t mean…that isn’t what I…” Rook sighed. She rubbed her face with her hands; everything she said always came out sounding boorish next to Emmrich. With a clumsy hand, she gestured to her attire. “I was trying to explain, that’s why I showed up in full armor. I mean, not that I have anything better.”

“Ah.” Emmrich visibly relaxed and resumed eating. “You hardly need to explain yourself to me. I certainly wasn’t going to complain.”

“But you went to all this work! You lit all these candles, you decorated, you made dinner—“

Bones rattled angrily in a dark corner of the kitchen.

“Ah, sorry,” Emmrich said, holding up a hand. “Manfred made the dinner. I ran out of time while I was lighting all the candles. And…I’m not the best cook, though it shames me to admit.”

A breath of laughter escaped her lips.

“You put in a lot of effort,” she continued. “And I haven’t had that before. And I showed up in the same rusty armor I wear for days at a time. And I don’t know how to show you that I’m entirely out of my element but I really appreciate all of this.”

Rook drew in a long breath after her ramble.

“And I like you. A lot.”

Emmrich’s face lit up, his expression rivaling his excitement when they stumbled onto the ruins of a catacomb weeks prior.

“I admit I’m happy to simply be graced with your company. Perhaps I also…quite enjoy the sight of you in that armor,” he said. “But if I could dare ask for more, I’d rather like to walk you to home.”

After dinner, he did just that; he took her hand on his arm and walked her the whole fifteen feet to the door of her room. They stood in front of the closed door silently for a few moments. Rook shuffled from foot to foot.

“You know, you could come in if you like,” she offered. Then she made a face. “I guess coffee is back in the kitchen…I don’t know, it seemed like the thing people say after a date.”

Emmrich chuckled. “I’m afraid I have to decline; it would be improper after a first date.”

“Even if a lady offers? You’re nothing if not a gentleman,” Rook replied, grinning. “Very well. Could I at least give you a kiss?”

Before he could reply, Rook leaned over and pressed a kiss to Emmrich’s cheek. His face visibly flushed.

From the doorway of the kitchen came the sound of bones knocking together as Manfred clapped happily.

“Manfred, please,” Emmrich groaned. He turned his focus back to Rook, taking her hand and kissing her bruised knuckles. “Good night, my dear.”

She watched Emmrich walk away, Manfred ambling on behind him. She still wasn’t sure how she’d caught the attention of the handsome necromancer, nor how she’d managed to hold his attention long enough to convince him she had something worthwhile to give in return. But if he still liked her after tonight, she certainly wouldn’t argue.

She’d just…double check next time he invited her to dinner.

[cadmusfly]

How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?

Summary:

A short improbable explanation of why Napoleon allowed Lannes to refer to him so irreverently when even his own family had been asked to use the formal vous.

Fandoms: Napoleonic Era RPF, 19th Century CE RPF

Characters: Jean Lannes, Napoleon Bonaparte

Relationship: Napoleon Bonaparte/Jean Lannes

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Period-Typical Sexism

Words: 853

[ladamedusoif]

Thank you! I think part of his charm is the fact you just know he’s got ulterior motives… but also, as you say, he’s interesting. Why is he doing this? Why is he a “gentleman thief”? I may have unleashed something here… watch this space!

My Kiss, Only For You

The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader - One Shot

Pairing: The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)

Content/warnings: oral (f receiving); theft (I mean, obviously); smut; did I mention theft; strong language

Summary: You've noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on a favourite exhibit.

Notes: I keep on getting sent to horny jail by @lunapascal and @julesonrecord. (P would be very disappointed in you two insisting on incarcerating me all the time.)

This time, for reasons I'm still not entirely sure about, I was sentenced to 'double jail' and have two punishment pieces to write to get myself free. This first one, chosen by @julesonrecord, involves The Thief (from the wine ads) and the prompt "stealing a kiss".

Please enjoy my first foray into writing smut about a (very sexy) man from an ad campaign.

I wrote this at like, 1am and am still worried there are sections I thought I wrote but that were actually happening in a dream. Bear that in mind as you read.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“And we finish with the jewel - if you’ll permit me a little pun - of the collection, the remarkable Katarzyna’s Kiss ruby.”

The afternoon’s tour group is mostly teenagers on a school trip, and they couldn’t be less interested in the bright red gemstone illuminated in the case behind you if they tried. One of them lazily lifts their phone to snap a photo, apparently of the display. It’s only when you see them pouting for a selfie that you realise they’ve had a BeReal notification.

You keep going with the standard tour script, putting your heart into it as always. You notice a familiar face at the back of the group, listening attentively: a handsome, dark-eyed man you guess must be in his mid to late forties, who is a regular attendee of your tours in the museum. He seems to be particularly interested in the gemstones and jewellery collections, always turning up for those tours with a notebook and a random, specialist text on the subject. 

“The story behind this gemstone and its unusual name is that a seventeenth-century Polish princess supposedly fell in love with the apprentice to the court jeweller. Now, as you can imagine, in those days an apprentice jeweller would never be considered an appropriate match for a princess, and their love was doomed from the start.”

The handsome man smiles at you, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. You offer a little smile in return, noticing how the museum lighting catches the attractive patches of grey in his sparse beard.

“The poor young apprentice had never kissed his princess, and not because he didn’t want to - they were afraid they would be caught in the carefully-monitored world of the court.” Your expression turns sad as you move to the next part. 

“One day, the young jeweller heard that his beloved was to be married - the next day, in fact. He was distraught. But when the princess woke on her wedding day, equally heartbroken, she found this ruby - so the story goes - in a gorgeous, handmade silver box, engraved with the words ‘My kiss, only for you’”.

One of the teenagers at the front yawns dramatically, setting the others off into fits of giggles. You sigh. “And that brings our tour to an end, I guess. Gift shop that way, toilets over there, if you want to find out more about the collections you can purchase a guidebook…”

Your voice trails as the group rapidly disperses. Only your handsome regular is left. You hadn’t noticed before how nicely dressed he is - not showy, not in the least, but his clothes have that unmistakable air of quality and expense. Today he’s wearing a dark green, beautifully cut casual jacket with a Nehru collar, combined with dark jeans and a pristine white grandfather shirt. 

“Thank you for a wonderful tour, as usual.” His voice is warm and low, a pleasing sound in the near-empty gallery. 

“Thank you,” you return the compliment. “You’re one of our regulars, aren’t you?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. You notice he’s holding a small green notebook in one hand, and a pen in the other. “I must admit, though, that I prefer to go on your tours. You are a natural - truly, a joy to listen to. So knowledgeable!” He turns and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “And, if you’ll forgive me for being forward, even lovelier to look at than Katarzyna’s Kiss.”

You raise your eyebrows. The closest thing to flirting you’d experienced in your time as a guide was when elderly men would corner you near the military history displays and wax lyrical at you about nineteenth-century battleships.

The man has moved closer, now, to you and to the display case. He appraises the ruby at close range. “I’d like to talk to you a little more about this beautiful thing - I’m fascinated by the story.” He turns and looks at you over the top of his glasses. “Would dinner tonight be a good time to talk about this kiss?”

To your surprise, he’d booked a table at the fanciest restaurant in the city. Dinner had been a delight, swapping stories of rare jewels and favourite galleries and museums around the world. 

He had changed since this afternoon, and arrived dressed in an exquisite green and black check suit with a black shirt and tie. He was attractive, there was no way around it - but you preferred to keep your guard up a little longer.

You were about to order a cab when you realised you didn’t have your phone.

“Shit. I must have left it in the office.” 

“It’s not too far away, is it?” He is the picture of concern. “I’ll gladly accompany you back to the museum.”

So he does, offering you his arm at one point like a man in an old movie. You huff a laugh at the gesture until you realise he’s serious. 

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.”

He keeps his arm out, offered to you, and smiles at you with an eyebrow raised. “Chivalry isn’t quite dead yet, ma chérie.”

Maybe it’s the sneaking into the museum after hours, with its connotations of illicit shenanigans, maybe it’s the whiskey you had after dinner, or maybe it’s just the way his suit sits so perfectly over his broad frame, as if it’s begging to be touched and clung to. 

Whatever it is, you’ve barely entered your small office when you’re pushing him against the wall and kissing him like your life depends on it. He groans into your mouth and it goes straight to your pussy. 

He guides you back onto the desk and sits you on the edge, lowering you down carefully as he stands above you. He trails a long, thick finger across the neckline of your dress, slipping his fingertip under the fabric to trace the outline of your breasts.

You whine in pleasure and frustration as he kisses your body. 

“Tell me more about Katarzyna’s Kiss, beautiful. Do you believe the story?”

He keeps kissing as you talk, through the fabric of your dress down to your thighs, where he hitches up the skirt and encourages you to open your legs a little wider. You moan as you feel his fingers tracing up the inside of your thighs.

“I want to kiss you, mi amor, but I will only do so if you say the word.”

You nod frantically, all thoughts of the bright red ruby forgotten. 

He brings his torso down to meet yours, placing a soft, wet kiss to your lips. You hear the zipper of his pants come down and you know that he has taken his cock in his hand. With the other, he reaches past the top of your head, stretching his hand out along the desk and resting his fingers on the marass of papers and, you judge by the clicks going on behind you, your computer keyboard.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me again?” Your voice is heavy, confused. He’s kept one hand behind you, still resting on the keyboard, as he intersperses caressing and kissing your breasts with giving his cock a quick stroke.

“I am, chérie, be patient. The kiss I plan to steal now is more valuable than any ruby - tastes better, too.”

He drops to his knees and pulls your legs apart, dragging your panties down over your soft thighs and knees. He begins by literally kissing your cunt, placing soft, delicate kisses to the wet folds before his broad tongue strokes its way from your opening all the way to your clit. It elicits a muffled scream from you.

“You can’t be there already, beautiful thing.” You aren’t, but the way he’s ‘kissing’ your pussy, then driving his fingers inside you, is getting you very close.

When he begins to suck your clit you feel the pressure building, and soon your slick is coating his perfect nose, his mouth, his face - and his beard. It glistens in the soft light of your desk lamp. 

“Fuck me,” you murmur quietly. 

“Not tonight, dear one,” he says as he returns to standing, zipping back up his pants. “Stay put, I’ll get something to clean you up. Where are the bathrooms?”

You point him towards them, unable to stand up just yet. He’s made you feel completely boneless, fucked out with just his mouth and fingers on your own desk. It had been a while since anyone made you come at all, let alone like that.

You realise you don’t even know his name.

And soon, you realise he’s been gone a rather long time.

The museum’s back corridors are unsettling at night. You wander up and down, calling quietly into the darkness to see if you can find him.

The wail of the siren is deafening as you race back to your office, frantically trying to log back in to check where the alarm has been triggered. You try to contact the night security team, but there’s no response. The screen eventually lights up and you see it: the Kiss ruby. That’s what they’re after.

Security arrives in the exhibition gallery a few minutes after you, leaving it to you to reveal the carefully opened case and the empty plastic clasp that once held the ruby on display.

Where was he? Did he get stuck in part of the building and panic when the alarm went off?

You reach into your pocket to find your phone before you remember you don’t even have his number. 

You find a crisp, folded piece of paper in your dress pocket. It had definitely not been there earlier.

You sneak off behind another display to open the note, before police arrived to question you. The handwriting is fanciful, rendered in pen and ink:

I have helped myself to Katarzyna’s, I’m afraid, but remember that the kiss I gave you tonight - my kiss - is only for you.

Adieu, chérie!

Your Gentleman Thief

[sinisterexaggerator]

Who did Cad Bane lose his virginity to and what were the circumstances around it?

Warning: NSFW content and discussion about Duros anatomy and loss of "virginity."

There are two answers here that I can give you. One spoils a bit of the fic I plan to start writing this year, damn it, and is full of angst and not voluntary on Bane’s part, though he is not known as “Bane” then, and is fairly young, considering.

The other answer is Jango Fett.

As I have explained before, I have two versions of Bane that live in my head.

The version I write with readers who is sexually deviant, and the version that I consider to be my “Cad Bane canon” in relation to other canon characters, where he is more so guarded and wary toward anyone, and very particular. Exhibits “brat behavior,” or generally pretends to care less about intimacy.

Voluntarily, he gives himself to Jango. This would be after much time is spent together; the time left unexplored where Fett was labeled Bane’s “mentor” (this is briefly mentioned in a magazine, and I ran with it, because I absolutely fucking LOVE the idea).

The circumstances have yet to be completely hashed out, but I see Cad thinking he has embarrassed himself, approaching Fett in a way that he realizes could have been due to false signals, or reading Jango wrong. Jango may be surprised at first, but indulges him. Mostly because he wants to, and maybe he does feel some kind of way about him.

I see them at first as rivals. Bane is stubborn, but good at what he does. He sees his potential. Maybe for a time he feels that need to “father or mentor” someone in relation to Bane, as Boba eventually is the outcome of this desire in Fett. As time wears on, there is an attraction there. I see them being physical, especially during sessions where they train together. Maybe one of these gets heated, and a little personal. Maybe Bane slips up and touches Jango in a particular way, acting as a catalyst to the scene that unfolds afterward.

I have ideas, friend. So many ideas. >D

In relation to the real loss of his “virginity,” let’s just say that it’s a “power move” made on a young Duros who is just trying to find his way in an all too harsh galaxy, one that surpasses sexual dimorphism and leans into an area of  “sequential hermaphroditism” (a scientific term) in regard to the “animal” kingdom, or in relation to a headcanon I have where Duros are a species that begin as protogynous, or female.

Some Duros never move beyond that, but some “choose” to be males, whereas Bane here could not decide, and ultimately develops and maintains both sexual characteristics. He experiences harassment and ridicule, among other things, for being “different,” but there are also those who would take advantage of him, and this is one such case.

[kybercrystals94]

Can you recommend any fics/fic series (not 18+)? Just finished the grit trilogy and I’m dying for another great read

Oooh! I absolutely can!!

▪️The Growing Pains series by The_Absent_Minded_One

I think my favorite in this series is Settling In, but I truly love this series.

▪️The Art of War by Moxibustion (RyuuzaKochou)

The characterization of Echo in this story is so fantastic…and the Batch are wonderfully portrayed as well. I return to pieces of this story often because it is so sweetly written. The writing is beautiful.

▪️Sing Me A Song by Tanwyn

(And all the TBB stories by Tanwyn are fantastic, but this is definitely a must read)

This story focuses on Crosshair’s bond with Echo. The end made me cry. Ugh! This will always be on my favorites list.

▪️ The Bad Batch's Guide to the Care and Maintenance of a Reg by TechsDatapad

This story focuses on Tech’s relationship with Echo. It is such a sweet story, a roller coaster of emotions. It’ll make you smile and cry. Sometimes at the same time 🥹

▪️ A Precious Sister in a Sea of Brothers Series by Optimistique

This series starts at the end of Season 1 and diverts from canon from there, but it is a very sweet AU!

▪️Introductions by Kaydear

I could read Kaydear’s writing style forever…and would highly recommend this Modern AU. It’s the first story in the series (most of them are Gen or Teen rated), and I reread them often 🥹

Kaydear’s canon universe stories are also excellent!

▪️Dominoes by meridianpony

Not directly TBB, but an amazing story! I hate to give away too much, but it’s probably one of the best fanfics I’ve ever read ✨

▪️All the Broken Stars by RosePointe

An AU where Hunter is killed by Cad Bane…but comes back as a force ghost and meets another ghost who has been following Echo around for years…I reread parts of this story over and over again…so well written.

These are just a few of my highlights! You are welcome to peruse my bookmarks on Ao3 😁 I have all sorts saved on there.

[tiredistic]

"Geek"

pairing: Cady Heron x Regina George

content warning(s): Smut, language, sexual over stimulation, angry sex

summary: Basically what happened in this text post, Regina pisses off Cady and she gets dealt with.

a/n: Fanfic after fanfic gosh, i'll never get sick of writing sub!Regina. I hope you guys like this one.

It was about 9:30, the night was cool and all the lights were dim. The room was lit mainly by the Tv.

Cady was playing on her Xbox, gifted to her from Regina. Regina sat there scrolling on her phone, inches away from where Cady was.

She was getting sleepy and it was past their designated cuddle time. so she decided that she wanted attention from her girlfriend.

She was sick of being on her phone. She didn't want to play with her phone, she wanted to play with Cady. 

“Cady c’mon let's lie down.” Regina huffed, looking at the girl for any movement– signs of life.

Regina hated when Cady was on the game. She wanted Cady to have her own personal time to do what she wanted, and yes Regina was happy Cady found something non-school related to fall in love with. But at this point it was being over-used.

Regina rolled over on the bed, not too far from where Cady was sitting, pouting hoping the girl would turn around and drop everything for her.

"Cads..."

“Just a little longer baby! Please I gotta loot this cave!” Cady happily exclaimed.

Regina would just melt, watching Cady explore her interests, watching her girlfriend do something she loved was always a blessing, BUT ITS BEEN 8 HOURS.

Regina was sick of it, and it's been like this all week! Ever since that “Minecraft” game stole her girlfriend. She was touch starved, she needed her girlfriend one way or the other.

Regina exhaled angrily, sliding off the bed, leaving the room to collect herself. How was she going to pull this fucker off of this mind consuming shit? Was Minecraft some drug?? Regina didn't know, she just bought it for Cady so she wasn't stressing about being the perfect student– but now she was some video game geek!

Regina pulled out her phone, opened the Group chat DMS, and shot them a text. Her phone blew up temporarily, telling her to steer clear of Cady’s game addiction.

Regina scoffed, how could they really understand. Cady chose some video game over her. Regina considered herself a perfect 10/10 and Cady chose that shitty game with squares. Gosh she was so upset, she was jealous of the Xbox. 

Then it clicked. 

Regina could just unplug it! Yes! This was the plan. Unplug Cady’s game, then it snaps the redhead out of that trance. Then Cady would cuddle Regina and sooth her goodnight– not touching the game ever again.

Perfect!

Regina waltzed into the room, her head high and her ego higher. Cady sat on the edge of the bed, her controller in the air, her mouth agape. Curses slipping out her mouth, she appeared to be fighting something on screen.

Regina just sighed, she didn't really understand the game and she didn't really find it all that important so unplugging it wouldn't bother her.

Regina walked up to the outlet, glancing back at Cady for any reaction, but the girl’s eyes were glued to the screen. She stood up gasping, tapping at the controller, her grip getting tighter with each second passed. Regina watched as a thin layer of sweat formed on Cady’s forehead, her eyebrows creasing then–

Pop, there goes the cord.

Regina did it! She unplugged the game, finally! Now Cady’s attention was all hers!

Cady stood there, staring at the blank screen. Her body froze, her eyes still.

“Regina. What. The. Fuck.” Cady finally said, turning slowly to Regina. A smile across her face born out of disbelief. 

Regina stood there with the cord in her hand, just the explanation Cady needed to why her world was jeopardised.

Just what was going through Regina’s head, she wondered. She was about to clutch her fall! She was falling from the sky! Regina wouldn't understand what Cady meant in a million years, but it still upset her. 

“Why would you do that!” Cady yelled, anger and panic going through her brain all at once. She placed the Remote down, her hands instantly flaring in the air.

“So you’d give me attention, obviously” Regina shrugged, throwing the cord down. 

“Attention? Yeah I'll give you attention, get your ass on the bed!” Cady pointed, her tone cold, just icy enough for Regina to notice.

Regina wondered why Cady was being so aggressive, she never saw this in the girl before, she didn’t know what to expect.

She complied, crawling on the bed, initially confused, but then she understood.

Cady tossed off her sweater, then her sweats leaving herself in the sexiest lingerie Regina had ever laid eyes on.

It was a beautiful pink set. It held Cady’s gleaming tits perfectly for Regina’s view. The lace was transparent enough for the blonde to see her soft buds behind the material, making her so turned on. She was caught by Cady’s beauty, she was so lucky. 

While Regina was captivated, her eyes scanning Cady’s curves, she didn't notice Cady’s hands reaching out to yank Regina’s pyjamas off.

When it happened she was surprised at the speed at which Cady stripped her. She felt her underwear get pulled down next, revealing how wet she was.

Regina reached her hands out to the girl, but her hands were grabbed and thrown above her head.

“Cady what the fuck-” 

Cady pulled Regina closer, despite the size difference Regina moved easily across the bed. Then she flipped Regina over, making her groan; but It wasn't nearly over. Cady then tugged Regina’s ass in the air.

It was the perfect view, Regina’s wet pussy to her face, while the blonde's back was arched into the bed. Cady was going to enjoy this, her body heating up as she looked down at Regina.

On the other hand, Regina felt quite cold. Her cunt was already leaking down her thighs as Cady handled her roughly. She turned her face away from the pillows trying to look at the former, but she couldn't because of the complex position she found herself in. Cady held up Regina’s ass for a while, admiring her pretty hole before going ham on it.

She gave it a long lick without any warning. She liked how the girl shivered under her touch, her chest sinking further into the mattress. Cady loved how she didn't even do much yet Regina was already gasping and twitching. 

She didn't waste any time lapping her girl up. Her tongue moving at a merciless rhythm, her eyes glued to Regina’s face.

Regina’s eyelids drooped, her eyes were glossy, her face screamed ecstasy. Her mouth screamed pleasure. She loved it when Cady ate her out from behind. 

“Fuck! Fuck! FucK!” She felt close, so fucking close. “Cady- Cady imma come! I’m going to come!” She gripped the sheets, she screamed trying to find any friction to help send her over the edge.

Cady loved this part, it never got old. She watched as the adored queen bee bottomed out to her touch. She watched as her usual bitchiness faded away with just the right amount of attention. Cady wouldn't admit it, but she loved punishing Regina.

With one loud moan, Regina came all over Cady’s face, her eyes shutting as she rode out her high. Cady, licked it all up, Regina tasted so good.

However Cady didn't stop there, she kept going even after Regina rode out her high, no breaks in between. 

Regina’s jaw clenched, groans spilling from her teeth. She tried to move away from Cady’s mouth, but the grip on her waist bound her, she was stuck. 

“Cady- it’s too- shitttt!” Regina’s tears spilled, her throat struggling to find the right sounds to describe her pain and pleasure. Her cunt was swollen, it made her quiver. Her legs kicked, her hands gripping the sheets for her dear life.

“S-Stop! hurts holy shit!” She mumbled into the sheets, her cries covered in tears as she whined. Cady watched as Regina was being fucked dumb, oh how it turned her on. Cady was in deep. She loved the feeling of Regina’s wet pussy along her face, and every time Regina tried to pull away she just pulled her right back. 

“Fuck!” Regina’s voice cracked her hand trying to push Cady away from her but it didn’t work, she felt weak, and utterly helpless. 

She knew Cady was controlling her whole body, she couldn't do anything about it. Cady was showing her what a bad girl she had been.

Regina’s mind fantasied about being Cady’s fucktoy- her plaything even, Just an object to relieve stress on. before she knew it, she came again. Her body tensed, as a powerful orgasm shaking through her body.

“Caddss..” Regina slurred, her eyes were still teary as she slugged into the bed.

Cady got up from the bed, leaving temporarily to clean up. She grabbed some warm rags to wipe Regina off before starting the bath. 

It was an hour later when everything was cleaned, and Regina was tucked in to sleep. This time, Cady was next to her. So after all, her plan did work.

[chad-something]

BEHOLD Fic Recs!!!! 18+

Notes: I’m reposting this because it seems to have disappeared completely from my account!! After the week we’ve all had I thought I’d accumulate some of my favs 🥹🥹 I’ll make a list for fluffy fics as well! Big love.

Side note, there is no theme, the theme is chaos fuck you Filoni

Warnings: These all contain 18+ content, minors do not interact - all posts contain individual warnings.

Expensive Tastes: by @eloquentmoon - cad bane x AFAB!reader

• Good lord. Need I say more? I want this shit tattooed on my fucking eyelids.

Rough Day: by @no-droids - mando x F!reader

• Because obviously. Is it too much to call this the Bible for fanfic readers?

Tech Savvy: by @bb-8 - Tech x F!reader

• Pure, unadulterated perfection.

Can I help with that?: by @nahoney22 - Tech x F!reader

• She needs no introduction. All of Honey’s work is PERFECTION!! I’m kicking my feet and blushing thinking about it all.

Handling: by @moodymisty - Tech x F!reader

• Again, she needs no introduction. Incredible writing AND incredible sex, what more could you ask for? I just adore all of her stuff!!

Catch and Release: by @sporadicthingcollection - Cad Bane x F!reader

• This was the first fic I ever read on ao3 after somebody sent it to me and I remember with such clarity being like … wait… this shit can be GOOD good?! I feel like I’m reading a Jane Austen novel rn except it’s pure smut and about a blue space cowboy. I seriously hang off Emberly’s every word - this fic and the whole series is AMAZING

Poise Counterpoise: by @sporadicthingcollection - Tech x F!reader

• Mmm same as above but for tech. I want to inject this into my brain?!

Quick and Dirty: by @eyecandyeoz - Tech x Reader

• Everything. All of Candy’s stuff. But in light of recent events this one has been on my mind!

Multitasking: by @neon-junkie - Tech x GN!reader

• I dare you to find a fic by neonjunkie that I won’t obsess over, this is one of my personal favs

Coriolis Effect: by @uponrightful - Crosshair x reader

• FANTASTIC Crosshair series with excellent writing, pacing, and smut by uponrightful

What Boba thinks about on the throne: by @saradika - Boba x F!reader

• I’m blushing. Every. Single. Fic. Is. Perfection. (And read kinktober 2021 NEEEOOOOOOWW)

These are just some off the top of my head to help ease the pain from the finale!! I’ll be back with more soon I’m sure - and there are so many other fluffy fics I adore that I can’t wait to shout out asap

(Boarders by @saradika)

Em x

[theskeletonprior]

Do you have Baldur’s Gate 3 brainrot? Do you love your OC so much and wonder why the fanfic isn’t writing itself? Do you like to support queer writers trying to make ends meet (that’s me!)? I got you, buddy.

My commissions are open, so come tell me about me your Tav! (And their love-interest/favored companion, et cetera. Bring me your unromanceables!) I especially like to write rare pairs, hurt/comfort, and polyamory. If you’d rather the tale be companions only, I’m also happy to do that. While I don’t mind writing intimate scenes, I don’t accept graphic NSFW requests, non-con, or underage. When in doubt, just check in with me before you donate! Pricing starts at $20 CAD for a tale of 1k words. (I have updated my prices. Pro-rates for writers is up to $0.08 per word, so this is still a steal!)

Price List (CAD)

1000 words for $20 1500 words for $35 2000 words for $45 Pro rate for writers these days is $0.08 per word, so my commission rates are an absolute steal. Our dollar is also a little bit trash here in the land of maple syrup and poutine or whatever, so if you happen to trade in eagle bux, even better for you! My commissions help me pay for things like sertraline, funding for my ongoing effort to be reunited with my beloved husband, the occasional good meal, and resources for my work as a professional Dungeon Master (I can’t believe that one either). So hire a dead guy, and help support a queer creative. I also donate any tips to Gaza Funds.

If you’re looking for a longer work, feel free shoot me an email at theskeletonprior@gmail.com and we’ll chat. Words are what I do.

Work Samples

You can read all my Tav Tales to date here on AO3, but here are some of the highlights.

To Live in Infamy (2k Durgetash)

The morning, Enver is lucky enough to have pants on. The Slayer snaps his chains as it comes screaming into the daylight, barrelling out of the bed. The force of Infamy’s awakening sends Enver rolling onto the floor, narrowly missing being crushed by the bedframe. He’s tangled in their sheets, and already lamenting that they’ll need to be replaced. This silk had come all the way from Waterdeep. That’s his first thought, even with his heart pounding in his ears. He struggles to free himself, but the Slayer isn’t coming for him. There’s the acrid smell of half-cast sorcery, and then the screaming starts. When something warm and wet splashes onto him, soaking through the sheets, Enver hopes it’s blood. The crunching of bones and the smell of bright copper gives him a little hope that it’s not something worse. It wouldn’t be the first time a would be assassin emptied their stomach or their bowels in terror before the Slayer. Enver unrolls himself at last, leaning back on his elbows to enjoy the show, even as the blood—and thank goodness it is blood—soaks through his nice sheets. The mess quite nearly defies description.

Callus (2k Tav/Astarion/Halsin)

“Oh, my dear, what a miserable turn of events.” Astarion kisses Lukan’s hair gently. “I could probably catch up with him, you know. Plenty of good alleyways in this end of town to drag him into, get him acquainted with my nice new boots. Sturdy enough to kick a man entirely to death.” “You got new boots?” Lukan can’t help a watery smile, desperate to redirect the conversation. He doesn’t want Thindulion killed. It had been bad enough to bury his mother, and as much as he wants to hate his father for abandoning them, he hates the thought of being orphaned even more. And now he knows he has a sister, and he couldn’t put her through that. “That’s beside the point,” Astarion says. “I’m asking if a little spot of patricide might cheer you up.” Lukan shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he says. He wants to try to make light, to play along with Astarion’s flippant turn of phrase, but it’s just too heavy. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I might have another idea, in that case,” Astarion tells him. “Why don’t you have a sit on the bed, get those boots off, and I’ll be back, having done precisely no murders, I promise.”

In the Spider’s Parlor (3.5k Tav/Kar'niss)

She peers over her shoulder at him and then rolls her head, exposing more of her neck. Suddenly his need, that wretched appetite, is not as hideous as it has been, he feels no disgust for what he wants, for the curse that makes him want it. There’s only this moment. He nips lightly, slipping his arms around her, embracing the warmth. He reaches out with his forelegs, feeling her, holding her securely as he had done that first time. He’s heard the sound she makes when letting blood, and now he knows it for what it is. Pleasure. His purr rumbles low in his chest, but he never bites, lapping softly at the thin rivulet of blood that wells from where he’s nipped her, one delectable drop at a time. Solinore reaches up, one hand tangling in his hair, relaxing in his grip. “What you ask of me, is yours,” Kar’niss says, applying pressure to the nick he’d made to stop what little bleeding he’d caused. “You sure?” she asks, playfully. “I could ask for another ride on your back. Or…” He knows what that smirk implies. “What you ask of me,” he says again, “is yours.”

[unmarked-credits]

Fallout is accidentally writing the best Cad Bane / Female Bounty slow burn fanfic EVER

[gremlinmodetweeker]

For The Future

Hi! This is me just posting to thank everyone for getting me over 500 followers. I am so so thankful for all the love and support. I've made friends here, and I've been able to find a place that welcomes and supports my ideas.

However, I am not very well off. I love writing fanfics, and I vowed that once I hit 500 followers, I would open a Kofi for people to be able to support me (and in turn get more smut).

So yeah! I am just letting you all know that I now take NSFW requests for a small commission ($2-$5 CAD). I also will be now posting smut to my tumblr, but if you want more smut, I will be posting three more smut stories on Kofi along with some nsfw fanart.

Thank you so much, and I one of you might be able to support me.