#chewing on his flesh then making broth out of his remains

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

i am the milk man and i am here to deliver milk

here are my old price art, special delivery, enjoy dear fish

i will make sure to make him even hairier in the next iteration.... (and i draw hair individually......)

Hooooo i am breathing so normally my dearest

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 III

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers. (This chapter: oral)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You await the king’s next move.

Note: One day off. Managed to get this done!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

When at last you managed to look away from the likeness of the imperious king, you tried to sit. You found it hard to stay still however and instead, paced the expanse of the chamber. You stopped at the tall windows to look out onto the palace lawns, a glimpse of the city visible beyond the walls. Would you ever see the other side of them again?

You looked down at yourself as you swept away from the glass panes. The gaudy gown made you grimace and you went back to your restless strides. You rung your hands and made yourself stop, fidgeted with the thin fabric that swished around your legs, and squinted closely at the few pieces of miscellany scattered on tables; a few pens, a ring, and a bound book.

The sound of boots came muffled from the corridor and you turned as the doors shifted. The guard without pushed inward and stood back as the king swept past him. You stopped behind the sofa and watched Loki as he didn’t seem aware of your presence. A boy, about fifteen or so, followed at his heels and barely evaded the snap of the doors as they shut.

You bowed and waited for his acknowledgement. You received none as you kept your head down and followed him with strained eyes as he crossed to the set of doors painted with winding snakes. The young boy opened them and the king disappeared beyond them, though they remained ajar.

You waited, hands folded, chin lowered, and listened. The soft rustle of clothing, the ruffle of activity unseen. It was a time before the king bid away his servant.

“Go.” His voice slithered through the silence, “Fetch my dinner, boy.”

You held your breath as the adolescent emerged and swiftly crossed to the other doors. He left you there and another deathly hush rose around you, laced with anticipation and impatience. You heard soft footsteps approach the open doorway and halt upon the threshold.

“Little mouse,” the king said cloyingly, “You might stand up straight now.”

You bit down and raised your head. Your eyes met his as he smirked across at you. He wore a deep green robe embroidered with golden serpents, tied loosely at his waist to allow a glimpse of his pale torso. His silk pants were loose as finely stitched slippers poked out from beneath the hems. His crown did not top his locks as they hung loosely along his shoulders.

“Why, you do look much recovered,” he purred as he casually pushed away form the doorframe, “Better, even.” He did not come close, merely went to the table and pulled out a chair to perch. He slung a leg over the other as he bent an elbow on the tabletop. “I was, most irritatingly, called away to council.”

You were quiet. You stayed on the other side of the couch as if it were a barricade from his lingering gaze.

“Come closer,” he beckoned with two fingers, “I should like a proper look at… the gown.”

You hesitated. Your flesh, though healing, was still tender along your back. You went to him with careful steps and stopped a foot away from him. He looked you up and down. He reached out and his fingers closed around your wrist and he drew you between his legs as he uncrossed them.

His fingertips flew quickly to the beading along your bodice and he traced the curve of your side. He hummed as he peered up at you, your chest obscuring you slightly.

“Hmmm, I think I preferred you naked and chained,” he snickered. “Do you feel me still? Is the lesson still seared into your flesh, little mouse?”

Your lip curled and you swallowed. You nodded.

“Speak, when you are addressed by your king.” He demanded.

“Yes, your majesty,” you uttered, “The marks remain.”

He bunched your skirts in his hands and bared your thighs. He tickled your skin and pushed firmly to knead the muscle.

“Alas, I did send for my supper and I would not the boy happen upon my little games,” his thumb grazed the crease of your pelvis, “He is innocent and easily frightened.”

You stood, tolerant of his touch, as you felt a peculiar tingle inside. Disgust laced with something more; something you wanted to deny. His hands dropped reluctantly and he shifted in his seat.

“You will sit and eat. I understand you did little of that during your internment,” he said sharply, “I suspect it is the reason you had to be dragged out of there. That I did need to charge my staff with reviving you.”

“Must be the reason,” you muttered as you sat in the other chair across from him. You caught the gleam in his eye. “Your majesty.”

“Throughout your tenure here, thus far, I’ve a chance to learn more of the errant trespasser,” he preened, “Your uncle, Bo, he is a crafter and a merchant. You were charged with shaping clay pots for his shelf. Your little friend, Gilla, she is a baker’s daughter. I did not care much for her though.”

“Gilla…” you repeated quietly. “You…”

“I did not harm her. I only asked her some questions.” 

The door opened suddenly and he sat up. The boy was accompanied by two other servants who set out wine, glasses, and plates. The flurry of activity departed as quickly as it had arrived and you were left alone once more with the king.

“She’s a talkative one but she does not say much of substance,” he mused as he took his fork, “But I still learned much.”

“Oh?” You twirled your fork anxiously.

“Nothing more than I couldn’t surmise on my own,” he shrugged, “I’ve come to realise your obstinacy.” He mused, “And let me say, that will not hold and I do look forward to testing it.”

You frowned and he bit into a morsel of pork. He chewed and swallowed emphatically.

“Oh, that look,” he pointed at you with his fork, “It assured me I am right.”

🐍

Your stomach was both happy and sore from the meal. It had been long since you had eaten much more than broth and hard bread, if anything at all. While the food was delicious, the circumstance was less than. You found it less than hospitable to be under the gaze of the king. Though he was not so intent, his eyes returned often enough to make you worry. You were wise enough to know that when the meal was over, there would be no pretense left, though you could not guess exactly at what he meant to do.

The young boy, who he called Hal, cleared the table and left another bottle of wine in his stead. Loki poured another glass for himself and glanced at the one you’d barely touched.

“I’d suggest you drink but truly it makes no difference to me,” he winked as he took a gulp of his own. “But you do seem rather… antsy.”

You said nothing and took the glass. You drank deeply and nearly spluttered. You drained the cup and placed it back on the table.

“I do not enjoy your ploys, your majesty, I would prefer you be to the point,” you said, “I am not naïve and the idea would be entirely unknown to you.”

“Ploys? To the point? I haven’t an idea of what you mean, little mouse.”

You drew your brows together and blinked. “If you long to see me squirm, I already am.”

“Oh, I do see it but I will not be done with you so quickly,” he threw back the last of his glass and set it beside your own, “Come.”

He took your head and led you to the door of his bedchamber. You had the urge to stop before you could enter but let him guide you. The black drapings of his bed, the silver sheets, and the lush pillows assured you of your fate. You knew what would come but you could not fathom the extent of his cruelty.

It was said that it hurt the first time for maidens. You suspected the pain would be worse with him. He didn’t make anything easy. He always added to any discomfort. He pleasured in it.

“Squirming, shaking, or shivering, mouse?” he wondered as he neared the bed and you trailed behind him. He tugged you onward. “Is it fear? It must be for there is no draft.”

“Stop, stop, please,” you said breathily, “Do not draw this out any further.”

He tilted his head as he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He released you and untied his robe and lifted himself to drag the tails from under him. He tossed it away and sprawled across the mattress with a sigh. He sidled over and bent an arm behind his head. You tried to ignore the bulge in his silk pants as he rubbed the space beside him.

“I had the impression that you already slept for quite a time but… I suppose the dungeon still takes a toll,” he remarked, “Lay down, little mouse. You might put out the light before you do.”

You looked around and went to the lamp on the round table in the corner. You blew it out and the silver slats of moonlight lit your path back to the bed. You slid your slippers off before you touched the woven blanket. You lifted a knee onto the mattress and the king gripped your wrist again. He pulled you down against him in a single motion.

“I am rather tired. My day did stretch on,” he said as he nestled you against him. His other hand went down and rested over his crotch. He rubbed himself and groaned. “A good night’s sleep would do us both well.”

He retracted his hand and pulled your arm across his torso. The taut muscles of his stomach were warm against your skin and sent a tickle along your spin.

“The nights of late summer do tend to grow chilly,” he reached over and played with the embroidery of your bodice. “And I find myself restless.”

He let out a long breath and the tension left his body. You laid in silence, eyes wide as you waited for him to do something. Anything. A rumble went through his chest and made you flinch. He chuckled.

“In due time, little mouse,” he promised, “Our games are not over yet.”

🐍

You didn’t recall dozing but you awoke gently to stirring beside you. The king slipped his arm from beneath you carefully. You were surprised by his caution. The bed moved slightly as he shimmied to the other side and stood. He moved in the dark as you remained as you were.

He rounded the bed and paused. He slid his hand along your thigh, your skirts tangled in your legs. He drew away and you listened to him retreat to the bath chamber. There was the subtle swish of water and dainty activity beyond. You wanted to fall back asleep and escape the odd reality.

Then you heard more. A low groan that soon grew to laboured breaths. It went on for several minutes. You crushed your head into the pillow as you tried not to listen. A stifled grunt ended the illicit rhythm. Another sigh.

He didn’t emerge for a few more minutes. He went into the receiving chamber and you heard the other set of doors creak. Shortly, you heard the thin voice of the boy, Hal, and the king returned to let the boy dress him. You watched him by his shadow in the early morning light.

“Go to Birger and fetch the rest of the girl’s wardrobe,” he bid, “I expect that all will be put away before my return. Bring her some food when she wakes and ask Birger to help you, should you require it.” The king strode to the door and stopped again, “And make sure the guards remain on watch. She is more trouble than she seems.”

You laid still until you were certain they were gone, though Hal remained in the receiving chamber. You wouldn’t fall back asleep. You were too on edge. So you stared up at the ceiling and brushed your arm over the spot where Loki had slept beside you. 

It hadn’t been at all what you expected. It was like you were holding your breath, waiting for the tension to snap the branch beneath you. Waiting for Loki to be just who you knew him to be. The king who had lashed you in the dungeon, the arrogant prince who demanded and got all that he wanted.

When you dared to rise and poked your head out into the next chamber, the boy hopped up from where he sat before the hearth. You were careful not to take long steps as the skirt threatened to bare more than you wanted. 

“You don’t have to,” you waved him down, “I can tend to myself.”

“I must bring your morning meal,” he insisted. “As the king wishes.”

“The king,” you mulled as you took a seat at the table, “Is he kind to you?”

He narrowed his eyes and thought, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose he is crueler to others so yes.”

“That is hardly kindness,” you said.

“I’ve had worse masters,” Hal replied. “And less rich.”

You nodded and ran your fingernail along the tabletop. “Well then…” You tapped the wood, “Go on then.”

The boy left and you let out your breath. You hung your head and rubbed your eyes. You listened to the morning birds and the breeze in the leaves. You knew the calm would give way soon to a great storm.

🐍

After you picked at a hard-boiled egg and some rashers, Hal returned with Birgir. They carried a large chest between them and set it down heavily before a painted armoire in the bedchamber. You watched as they hung the silks, satins, and brocades. Slippers were placed along the lower shelves and a few cloaks slung alongside the numerous gowns.

Birger bid you change your outfit and you placated him if only to rid yourself of his disapproval. You dressed in a burgundy dress with a similar cut as the first. None offered much more coverage, often less, and you scowled at the thought of donning them. You tucked your feet into a pair of slippers and washed your face of the make-up that remained from the previous day.

You were once more alone and left to languish in the king’s empty chambers. You thought of the dungeon. At least that was not a farce. At least the dank, dripping depths did not try to disguise your sentence.

You pulled the curtains back from the glass doors in the bedchamber. A balcony stood without as the sun peaked. You slowly turned the curved handle and pulled them open. You stepped out tentatively and looked around. You inhaled the scent of the wind and pollen. You hadn’t been outside in so long that you were overcome with nostalgia, with longing and dread. 

Would you ever know what it was to run across the grass again? To watch the rivers flow and dream of following them?

You went to the rail and looked down at the trimmed lawns and their pristine hedges and the beds of colourful buds. Birds danced along the rims of the fountain and other critters dove in and out of the maze of greenery. You leaned your elbows on the marble rail and stared down. It was far; far enough to kill.

You looked at the balcony, at the slates of the railing, at any foothold that might be found along the wall. You bent further over as you tried to spy those below and if they were close enough to land. Your thoughts ventured to escape, as risky as it might be, and you were want to laugh at your foolishness.

You felt something in your skirts, then a firm grip on your ankles. Suddenly you were tipped over the edge and you cried out as you were certain you would plummet to your death. You grabbed onto the marble slats as you we held dangling over the rail and you looked up at your accoster.

The king guffawed at your fear as you clung to the side of the balcony and slowly pulled your feet back over to the other side. His hand slid up your leg and ass and he grabbed the back of your bodice as he drew you up straight. He caught your hand before you could slap him.

“Now, now,” his hand crushed yours, “Did we not already learn this lesson?”

“You could’ve killed me!” You whined.

“I could’ve. And still could,” he smirked as he trapped you against the rail. “There is much I could do to you.”

You stared at him in disgust as he pressed his body to yours. His hand went to your chin and he framed your face with his long fingers.

“I could bend you back over this bannister and let my kingdom hear what it is I want to do to you,” he sneered. “Gods, the thought has me harder than last eve.”

He dragged his thumb over to your lips and poked inside your mouth. You resisted for a moment, until it hurt, and he pressed down on your tongue.

“If you were to be on your knees, no one should see you,” he said, “They wouldn’t know why it was you kneel before me…”

You swallowed as your stomach filled with bile. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and took a step back.

“So on your knees for your king,” he pushed apart the tails of his overcoat and lifted the bottom of his tunic as he unlaced his trousers, “I’ve been rather patient and it is not a habit I know well.”

You stared in aghast as he rubbed himself through his trousers and winced. His eyes flicked back to you and his face darkened.

“I said ‘on your knees’,” he barked, “Little mouse, you must really start obeying me or I shall have to repeat that lesson.”

You slowly bent your leg and rigidly got down to your knees. He pushed open the front of his trousers and stepped close. You stared at the ground as he pulled himself free and stroked his length. He grabbed your chin again and forced your head up. You tried not to look at his member bobbing in your vision.

“Open that trite little mouth. I will make better use of it than your bitter words,” he squeezed and you gasped at the sharp twinge it sent through your skull.

You opened your mouth and he pressed his tip to your lips. He rested it there and rubbed it back and forth teasingly. You closed your eyes and he slapped your cheek lightly with his fingers.

“No, no, keep those eyes open,” he demanded, “They look so nice staring up at me.” He slid slowly inside your mouth, “So frightened. I daresay, you look, almost, innocent.”

He pushed further in until he was at your throat. You gagged and he went deeper with a snicker. He gripped your head with one head as he thrust to his limit and your eyes welled as you struggled to breathe around him. You’d never done anything with a man more than a playful peck on the lips. You never spent very much time thinking of more.

He eased you back and you took a deep gulp of air before he invaded your throat again. The sickly noise of your spit and his member was repulsive. His eyes held yours as he moved his hips slowly and you latched onto his belt to keep from slipping.

“Little mouse, I only hope your mouth is an omen of what else you have to offer,” he purred as he rocked his pelvis, “A delight…”

Each thrust felt deeper than the last, harder, faster. His groans rose in the warm air as he was encouraged by his own voice. He grew louder as your eyes threatened to roll back and his face contorted in his pleasure. He kept a hand on your jaw and the other on the back of your head as he used your mouth.

You were dizzy as his intrusion felt as if it would never end. He threw his head back and you dared to close your eyes as your mouth turned salty. His voice rose louder and louder and filled your head. He dipped down your throat and his motion staggered. He gripped you tightly and moaned as he emptied himself down your throat.

He grunted with his few final jerks and pulled out sharply. He released you just as quickly and you fell to the side as he backed away and panted. You coughed his seed up onto the stone as he watched you. You could feel his shadow as he neared and you looked up as he cradled his glistening member.

“You’ve made such a mess, little mouse,” he reproached, “I shall forgive it this time, but the next, you won’t muddy my floors so.”

You choked as you sat back on your heels and stared at him with wet eyes. Your throat ached horribly and your head still spun.

“Go on, clean me up, darling,” he looked down at his cock in his hand. “I suspect I am late already.”

You shoved your repulsion down and neared him on your knees. He angled his tip back to your lips and you took him again in your mouth. You pressed your tongue to his member and slowly pulled back as you lapped up the last of his cum. He guided you up and down a few times and relented once more. 

He parted from you again, content, and tucked himself away in his trousers. As he laced himself up, he cleared his throat.

“Well, little mouse, I will say, I’ve done little for my patience,” he chuckled, “I do suggest you might have some wine before I return again… it is said to dull the pain.” He neatened his tunic and overcoat and ran his fingers through his hair. “And I promise, there will be a lot of pain.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 4

A/N  Here’s the next chapter installment of Ginger Snap.  I now have this story mentally plotted to its conclusion.  It will have a total of 6 chapters, with perhaps a wee epilogue.  In keeping with the theme, the title of this chapter is “Where There’s Smoke”.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I glanced around the sitting room, trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes.  Well, not a stranger.  Through Jamie’s eyes.

We had sold most of our furniture before leaving Boston, not considering it worth the expense of shipping across the Atlantic.  Frank hired an interior decorating firm to furnish the third floor Southside flat before we arrived.  The overall impression was stylish, if a bit soulless.  Having grown up a virtual nomad, there were no mementos or heirlooms to speak for my personal journey.  For the first time, I regretted their absence.

The buzzer rang, and I shook away my wistfulness.  Jamie’s tousled curls and reckless grin greeted me as I opened the door.  Today he wore a fitted navy jumper, faded grey jeans with frays about the ankles and the ubiquitous work boots.  A messenger bag was slung across his broad chest.  

“I hope I wasn’t supposed to supply the ingredients for today’s lesson, because my cupboards are bare,” I remarked after inviting him in.

“Jus’ as well.  I wouldna squander yer food.  I have all we need right here.”  Reaching into his bag, he removed a clear container filled with chunks of pink meat swimming in a broth of blood.  I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“What sort of dish will I be making with those?”

Those summer eyes shone in merry provocation.

“No’ a dish, Arsonist.  An experiment.”  

Two saucepans were set on the stove.  Jamie had me place a few pieces of meat into the water of one pot before it warmed.  To the other I added a pinch of salt and a clove of garlic, but waited until it came to a boil before adding the chicken.  After five minutes, I used tongs to move the now-pale flesh to waiting salad plates.  Neither looked particularly appetizing, but the first pot yielded a glutinous blob.

“I suppose this is the control group,” I remarked, looking at Jamie where he leaned against my countertop, ankles crossed like a cover model.  “I’m already quite familiar with what culinary failure looks like, thank you.”

“No’ failure.  Variability,” my teacher argued.  “See here?  If ye want meat tae dissolve til it doesna hold its texture, low heat is key.  An’ if ye want tae infuse it with flavour, always combine heat an’ seasoning at the same time.”

I took a small nibble of chicken from the second pot, and sure enough it tasted mildly of garlic.  It was otherwise quite bland, though.  When I commented on this, Jamie nodded in excitement.

“Aye, verra good.  Nature seeks equilibrium, as ye well know.  Sae now ye have poultry tha’ tastes o’ water and water tha’ tastes o’ chicken.  If ye were makin’ a stew or chicken stock, t’would be a good thing.  Fer anything else, tis shite.”

I laughed, getting into the spirit of his well-executed game.

“Have ye any music?” he asked while we cleared away the results of round one.  “I always cook better with a bit o’ background noise.”

There was a high-end stereo system in the living room, but I doubted Jamie would be interested in Frank’s collection of Brahms, Mahler and Celtic harp.  Seeing my hesitation, Jamie dug out a portable speaker from his bag.

“Do ye mind?”  I shook my head and soon my kitchen hummed with guitar chords and plangent vocals.

The lesson lasted far longer than the scheduled hour.  Jamie had me bake, fry, roast and braise different samples, each time explaining why a particular technique might be used and insisting I taste the result.  It was so much fun, I shed my habitual reticence while cooking.

“An’ now fer the pièce de résistance,” Jamie announced in dramatic tones.  From his seemingly bottomless messenger bag he removed what appeared to be a miniature flame thrower.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, forgetting myself.

“I wanted ye tae ken there’s a place fer fire in the kitchen, Arsonist.  Tis only a question of picking yer moment.”

With a flick of his lighter, he set the butane alight and handed me the small kitchen torch.  Using extreme caution, I seared the outside of the two remaining morsels until they were a rich caramel colour.  Jamie then wrapped them in foil, placing them in the oven to finish cooking.  When they were cool enough to sample, the outside was pleasingly crunchy and sweet, while the inside swam in moist chicken-y flavour.  We both declared them the winner.

“Tis a funny thing about fire,” Jamie remarked as he packed up his bag to leave by the more conventional front door route.  “It can remain hidden beneath the surface, burying its secrets deep inside.  Doesna mean it doesn’t burn, though.”

I thought about what he’d said long after he was gone, leaving me alone with his signature scent of rising bread and salt air.

That weekend, I blamed the poor weather when I declined Frank’s offer to shop for an engagement ring.

***

The next week, instead of asking to be buzzed inside, Jamie requested that I join him downstairs.

Grabbing a Mackintosh, my purse and slipping into comfortable walking shoes, I joined Jamie outside my door.  He was particularly animated, despite the foul weather.

“We should ha’ started wi’ this lesson, but t’wasn’t the right day fer it,” he explained as we walked towards the farmers’ market that took place twice a week in the shadow of Castle Hill.

I considered protesting that I already knew how to shop for food, but Jamie’s enthusiasm was contagious.

We stopped at every stall, sampling the foodstuff on display, which was surprisingly varied despite it being November.  Jamie knew most of the merchants by name and our progress was regularly halted by conversations on topics as varied as his family’s health, the latest rugby results and Scottish politics.  I envied his wide circle of acquaintance and apparent ease interacting with them.  There was no pretense, no stiffness, just a man who inhabited every square centimetre of his life to the fullest.

Jamie insisted that I taste various produce before adding it to the cloth bag he’d provided.  Honey-crisp apples.  Peppery radishes.  Herb-infused venison sausage.  

“Close yer eyes,” he instructed when I was practically dizzy with all the flavours.  Still, I complied immediately.  A rubbery moisture tickled my lips.  “Open,” he said simply.  I opened.  “Tell me what ye taste, Arsonist.”

I chewed the morsel of cheese thoughtfully, letting the taste and texture coat my mouth before finally swallowing.

“Creamy.  Thick.  Salty.  Sorrel.”

I opened my eyes only to fall into the inky vortex of Jamie’s pupils, which had expanded to almost eclipse his irises.  His hand still hovered near my mouth, muscles frozen in abstraction.  The cheesemonger let out an awkward little cough.  Jamie blinked, and the moment vanished.

“Sorrel?” he asked a bit gruffly.

“Yer lass has a fine palate, Fraser.  My sheep graze in fields full o’ it.”

I allowed myself a smug little smile.  Neither of us corrected the merchant’s presumptive pronoun.

Later that evening, I sat cross-legged before the fire with a picnic for one.  Frank had called from his office earlier to say he was working on notes for an upcoming symposium.  Before me lay the results of the afternoon’s market adventure.  Closing my eyes as I ate,  every mouthful set my senses ablaze.

We never found time to visit the jeweler that weekend either.

***

The next week, I fell ill with a miserable head cold.   Frank was in Oxford for his symposium, so I called Ginger Snap myself and explained to Jenny in a hoarse voice that Jamie should avoid coming to my flat at all costs.

I was curled up in a mentholated daze when there was a series of knocks.  It took several minutes to free myself from my blanket cocoon and shuffle to the front door.  Glancing in the entryway mirror, my hair called to mind an electrified poodle and my nose was twelve shades of raw, but I opened the door anyway.  No-one was there.  Leaning out to peer down the hallway, I practically tripped over a brown paper bag resting at my feet.

Inside was a metal thermos, still quite warm to the touch.  As I unscrewed the cap, my stuffed nose was assailed by fragrant steam.  Homemade cock-a-leekie soup.  I felt a glow fill my chest that had nothing to do with my fever.  Pouring a helping into a mug, I shuffled back to my couch-nest.  I felt better already.

***

The following week, Jamie was distracted.  I’d thanked him profusely for the soup, and asked if he could show me how to make it for myself.  As the chicken thighs and stock began to warm, however, I caught him glancing regularly at his phone, fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Are you expecting an important text?” I finally asked.

“Hmm?  Och, Arsonist, I’m verra sorry.  Tis only that we got a last-minute request tae cater a big corporate Christmas party, an’ Jenny is beside herself wi’ worrying.”  He tucked him phone into the pocket of his cargo pants.

“When’s the party?”

“T’morrow,” he confessed.

“What!  Jamie, what are you doing here?  You should have called me to reschedule.”

“T’wouldna be fair, what wi’ us missing last week on account of yer sniffles.  An’ wi’ Christmas ‘round the corner, I didna ken when I’d... er, when we’d have time for another lesson.”

I turned off the burner with a decisive twist.  Jamie opened his mouth to lodge a protest, but I beat him to the punch.

“Jamie, the soup will keep.  Growing your business is more important. I wish there was something more I could do to help, but under the circumstances...”

“Come wi’ me?” he blurted out.

I was nodding before the words finished leaving his mouth.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had just literally been teaching me how to boil water, I didn’t want to lose his company so soon.   We likely wouldn’t see one another again until after the New Year.

It was a thirty minute walk to Leith.  Jamie could probably have covered the distance in half that with his long strides, were it not for me trotting along beside him.  We stopped at several shops along the way to pick up provisions, arriving at Ginger Snap with our arms laden with the freshest food Edinburgh had to offer.

I had expected Jenny and Jamie to be working alone, but the fire station was abuzz with activity.  I was hastily introduced to Angus, a distant Fraser cousin; Mary, a childhood friend of Jenny’s; and Murtagh, Jamie and Jenny’s godfather.  They worked together like a well-oiled machine, and I stood awkwardly to one side, wondering what the hell I was doing there.  I was preparing to make my excuses when Jamie called me over to a spare station.  He gestured to the commercial-sized sink, which was full of vegetables of every dimension and colour.

“Claire, I need ye tae rinse and then cut these inta nice even pieces.  Can ye do tha’ fer me?”

"Consider it done, chef,” I said with a jaunty salute.

There was a feeling of camaraderie as we each went about our assigned tasks.  I chopped.  Mary baked.  Angus filleted.  Jamie cooked, and Jenny plated the various canapés, salads and sauces and stored them in the enormous refrigerators that lined the back wall.    Murtagh’s role seemed mostly to keep the troops in line with an assortment of verbal barbs. 

Music played in the background.  Volleys of witty banter flowed between us, but never at the expense of the work or anyone’s feelings.  Angus nicked himself with his filleting knife, and Jenny sent him to my station for treatment, saying I was the team’s resident doctor.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at home.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it, it was dark outside.  The bulk of the work was done and the pace slackened, the pressure of the looming deadline relieved.  One by one we cleared our stations, meeting at the small seating area to share a well-earned drink.

Jenny sunk into the couch beside me and let out a loud sigh.

“Ouf, I canna believe we got it all done.  Claire, ye were a godsend.  Normally I do most o’ the prep work, but it leaves me no time tae arrange the dishes.”

I demurred, uncomfortable with the praise.

“Nay, Arsonist, ye were amazing,” Jamie began to object, but he was interrupted by my phone buzzing.  Glancing down, I felt my face fall.   I’d completely forgotten about Frank.  Now he was texting, asking me where I was.  I quickly fired off a reply, then stuffed the phone into my pocket.

“Everything alright?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yes.  It’s only my fiancé, asking when I might be home,” I answered, still distracted by my uncharacteristic lapse.  As I glanced up, I ran straight into Jamie’s iceberg gaze.

“I didna realize ye were engaged,” he looked pointedly at my bare ring finger.  “Congratulations.”  

He said the word as though every syllable pained him.  I quelled the urge to explain, to say it wasn’t a real engagement because I’d never agreed, that I’d only been looking for a sense of security, but somehow found myself in a cage.

Instead I hastily finished my drink, called myself an Uber and quietly wished everyone a good night, all while avoiding the many questions written across Jamie’s expressive face.

[charincharge]

"For some reason I am attracted to you" prompt for nessian 😍💞Your writing is amazing

In honor of their book announcement. Some Post-ACOFAS Illyrian mountains angsty Nessian.

Nesta hated the mountains. She hated the cold winds that burnt her cheeks while she trained. She hated the way the altitude made the air thin in her lungs, making it impossibly harder to breathe. It made her feel like she was always on the verge of drowning, putting her perpetually on edge.

She hated the thick fatty meats stockpiled in her kitchen; apparently the mountains couldn’t grow vegetables. She longed for a salad. But instead, she forced herself to eat the too rich meat broth, unable to chew through animal flesh without gagging on it.

She hated that she was being shadowed by an overprotective fae male, constantly under his winged surveillance. Even when she couldn’t see him, she could always feel him. Creeping in the corners of her consciousness, tugging on that thing between them. She hated that thing most of all.

But there was one thing that wasn’t too terrible. Since arriving in Illyria with Cassian nearly four months ago, she’d made a friend. Emerie ran a small outdoor post on the outskirts of the camps, and it turned out she was just as unpopular as Nesta was – a woman attempting to infringe upon a man’s realm. Nesta thought it was brave that Emerie was able to maintain her father’s shop, despite the camps’ disdain for a female owner.

Nesta wrapped her scarf around her face tighter, attempting to block out the howling winter winds, as she made her weekly walk into town for tea with her only friend. Her worn in boots trudged across the frost laden path as the sky darkened with the threat of an incoming storm. She could feel wetness seep in through the cracks in the old leather, and she walked faster.

Heat prickled against Nesta’s thawing skin as she entered the store. She shed her jacket and scarf, hanging it on the tall coat rack by the door. A fire blazed in the corner of the room, and Nesta hurried toward it to splay her cold hands over it, letting the warmth of the flames lick her frozen fingers.

She heard a tea kettle ringing in the back room and made her way across the floor to assist Emerie with her preparations. Nesta pushed the heavy wooden door, and it creaked loudly. She was startled to see that Emerie was not boiling water alone. Cassian stood beside her at the stove, a relaxed smile across his face. His normally pulled back hair was loose around his reddened cheeks, brushing against the tops of his shoulders. His casual stance was so unfamiliar to Nesta she had to bite her tongue to stop from gasping. He was so tense around her – shoulders taut and corded muscles ready to strike out and attack. And watching him tip his head back and laugh at something Emerie had said, Nesta realized she’d never seen him relaxed.

An icy ripple curled around Nesta’s neck, cold fury choking her at the domestic scene before her. The doorknob beneath her hand grew frigid beneath her touch, turning brittle, and splintered to the ground with a loud thunk. She pulled her hand away quickly, the icy feeling disappearing as quickly as it came on.

The pair whipped toward the door in surprise, and she noted Cassian’s posture straighten uncomfortably as he caught sight of her. She gave him a tight smile, which he returned with a terse nod.

“I’ll fix that,” Nesta apologized, reaching down to grab the piece of metal from the floor. It burned her skin, and she dropped it again. This time, the knob shattered into shards and scattered across the old wooden floors.

Cassian’s hazel eyes narrowed and swept her body from head to toe. Nesta’s heart pounded, unsure of what was happening. She hated being out of control. Not knowing what her body could do.

Emerie removed the still shrieking kettle from the burner and grabbed her broom, dusting the pieces of metal into a small pile in the corner of the room, while Nesta looked on, frozen in shock.

“Nes?” She hadn’t even noticed Cassian had crossed the room to where she stood, suddenly only inches away from her. Infringing upon her space. Her routine. Her ritual. He didn’t belong here.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta hissed, her pulse thrumming wildly as she stared Cassian down.

He picked up a box from the table behind him and held it out to her. “Thought I’d pick up some new boots for you.” He looked down at her holey boots, which had seen much better days. Nesta crossed her foot behind her ankle, trying to hide it from his view.

“I don’t need your charity,” she said, crossing her arms and refusing to take the box from his hands.

Emerie, sensing an incoming argument between her friend and the Commander, smartly poured two mugs of tea and extracted herself from the small back room, heading back out to the store.  

Cassian sighed and ran his hand through his hair, pushing the strands out of his face. “This isn’t charity, sweetheart,” he explained to her, his voice dripping with condescension. “Winter’s just starting, and I need my soldiers with all their toes.”

“Fine,” Nesta acquiesced, taking the box. “You can leave now.”

“Don’t you think we should talk about—” Cassian motioned to the hole in the door, and Nesta practically growled at him.

“No.” She was resolute.

“You’ve only lost control like that before when you’re angry at me,” Cassian said, his voice lowered, unsure of how much Emerie knew about Nesta’s abilities. He lifted his arm and boxed Nesta against the door, trapping her. “If something else is triggering it, I need to know.”

“I’m always angry,” Nesta seethed. His face was much too close to hers now. She could see the shades of green and gold flecked in his hazel eyes, drawing her in. She looked away, under his arm, straight at the stove where he was standing when she walked in.

“Tell me,” he pushed.

Nesta pressed her hand against his chest, trying to get some air. “You. It’s always you.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Not sure how I’m to blame for making you angry this time, sweetheart. I was just standing over there, minding my own business, helping Emerie make tea…”

Nesta’s fingers tensed against his leathers, curling against the ring of his harness. And she watched in horror as Cassian’s lips curled into a devious smile. He looked over his shoulder and then back at Nesta, who was still rigid below him.

“Were you…” He paused, cocking his head to the side slightly for emphasis. “Jealous?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest again, but he remained solid, immoveable. “Of course not,” she snipped. “That’s ridiculous.”

Cassian snorted, leaning closer to her. She gulped, hating the tug she felt deep in her stomach, telling her to let him in, to embrace him, to show herself to him.

“No, ridiculous is burning off a doorknob with your ice cube hands,” he snickered and lowered his other hand to her waist.

“Don’t touch me,” she gritted out between her teeth, but she made no motion to leave.

“Just admit you were jealous, and I’ll leave,” Cassian said, eyes alight with amusement.

Nesta’s stomach twisted as she looked up at him. He waited patiently for her reply.

“Fine,” Nesta began. “For some reason, I’m attracted to you.”

“For some reason…?” Cassian stood up straight, shaking his head, no longer leaning over her, and Nesta took a large gulp of air. “Cauldron, Nesta, you’re infuriating. You know the reason.”

He took another step back and leaned against the table in the middle of the room. He crossed his arms, his body suddenly withdrawn, though his eyes burned with fire.

Nesta stepped away from the door and smoothed her thick sweater.

“Did you ever stop to think that if you accepted the bond, your powers wouldn’t be trying to spew out of you every time I got on your nerves?” he asked, agitated.

Nesta had, in fact, thought of that. It’s what irked her daily about their connection. That she knew it was connected to her powers. Connected to the Cauldron. To everything she hated.

“Why won’t you accept it?” The fire was dimmed in his eyes, dialed down to a low simmer as he stared her down. But she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted.  

“Thank you for the boots, Cassian,” she said, reaching around him for the box. He grabbed her arm, and she let him for a second. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist, and she shuddered under his touch.

Emerie knocked softly at the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Tea’s ready, Nesta,” she said, and Nesta silently thanked her friend with a small nod. “Will you be joining us, Cassian?”

Cassian pushed himself off the table and shook his head. “Thank you, but I have business to attend to.”

He pulled on his gloves, his siphons glimmering with the reflection of the flickering fire. He looked at Nesta again and his lips tightened as he took a deep breath. “Don’t stay too late. There’s a storm coming in tonight.”

He didn’t bother waiting for Nesta’s answer as he extended his wings and took off as soon as he exited the small store.

But as Nesta sipped her tea, she could feel him hovering nearby. After telling Emerie she would return again next week, she wrapped herself back in her thin coat and scarf and headed out into the wet winds. The outline of wings created a shadow on the ground, surrounding her the whole way home. Nesta never looked up once.

tags:

@df3ndyr @hizqueen4life @maastrash @justgiu12 @aknymph @bamchickawowow 

(sorry if you’ve told me you want to be on my everything tag list and i missed you...please just tell me again!! i’m trying to get my lists up to date)

[blueluneacy]

Yandere Nero risotto please

You know what you want. I like it.

Warning: Kidnapping, yandere, implied stockholms syndrome, implied violence

“You’re still squirming.” You never heard Risotto enter the room, but he always seemed to appear beside you when you were doing exactly what you weren’t supposed to be doing. You swallowed, looking away and continuing to pull at your chains, trying to do anything to free yourself from the bindings that kept you against the wall. You didn’t know this man well, all you knew was that one day you woke up, chained to this wall and this giant standing over you. You only knew his name, not anything else. Well, except that he said he would take care of you. You weren’t sure if this was his way of caring for you, but you hated it and him all the same. Risotto just sighed at the way you fought against him. Patience. Yes, if he had patience, this would eventually pass. You would learn to submit to him. And once that happened, you could learn to love him.

“I was going to let you feed yourself, but if you insist…” He told you, sitting down in front of you. You gasped, thinking for a moment. If you were going to feed yourself, that meant that you were going to be at least somewhat free. And if that were the case, well… You quickly started to form an escape plan in your mind as you let your body relax, looking up at Risotto and swallowing. Risotto smiled slightly as he watched you. You at least could listen when it benefitted you. It was a step in the right direction. 

“Good. I’ll be right back then.” He told you, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. He always did that, close the door behind himself as to make sure you could only get glimpses of what the actual layout of his home was. Another tactic just to make perfectly sure you couldn’t escape. But it didn't matter. Your glimpses were enough to piece together some sort of map, or at least idea, of the hallway. Risotto returned with a bowl of what appeared to be soup, god forbid he give you something you could actually chew. Risotto seemed pretty keen on torturing you with liquid food, in case he had to force feed you like he did the first few days you were here. You at least swallowed on your own now. But, Risotto had something far juicier than any sort of meal. In his hands were also the jingling of some keys, the keys to the cuffs that held you hostage to this wall. You were practically salivating over them, your way out of this nightmare of Risotto’s design, but you had to remain patient. God knows what would happen if you tried to just steal them from him. 

You sat still, simply staring at him in wait, swallowing a bit. Risotto smiled and placed the bowl down, grabbing your wrist and after a little bit of fiddling, unlocking it. You gasped at the freedom, slowly moving your hand down in front of your eyes to look at it while Risotto freed your other wrist. The was red, the flesh angry with all the fighting you had been doing. But it was fine, you were finally free. You moved off of your knees, instead sitting with your legs crossed in front of you. If anything, it only made you look smaller to Risotto. He was such a large man, but now you were resting your back by hunching slightly, rubbing your wrists to try and get some feeling into your hands. Risotto just smiled at you, sitting down in front of you and slowly handing you the bowl. It was lukewarm. Risotto never gave you anything hot, for fear you would burn your tongue.

“See? This is what happens when you’re good. You get rewarded.” He told you, leaning forward to pat your head. You flinched a bit. This man was horrifying, having absolutely no problem doling out punishments, but his kindness was almost more horrifying. You nodded a bit, taking the spoon to take a sip of the soup. It was just broth, really, meant to give the basic nutrients. 

“Y-Yeah. Thank you Risotto.” You replied, trying your best to smile. To your surprise, Risotto smiled back. You looked away, moving to focus on eating. His smile seemed so genuine, so adoring. After all of this, he still claimed to love you. What a joke. 

…

And yet, you decided you wouldn’t escape today. It would be too obvious if you did. Another day. Yeah, that’s what you told yourself. It was easier than admitting that Risotto’s smile made your heart beat just a little faster.

[emberbent]

Book 3: Water | Chapter 1: Tenok

Shinza uttered a moan as she slurped the seaweed noodles from her soup.

Amrit arched his brow. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“I can’t help it!” she defended with her mouth full. “I haven’t had Water Tribe food since I left Republic City.”

She wafted the fragrant steam from the broth up to her nose and inhaled deeply. The little restaurant on the outskirts of the Northern Water Tribe’s capital city was quiet - that period between the lunch and dinner crowds - and they had the place nearly to themselves. Amrit watched her from his side of the table, picking at his fermented turtle-whale meat. He’d never really jived with the nuanced flavors of Water Tribe cuisine, but watching Shinza enjoy her food with such gusto, and just being with her again, was more satisfying to him than food.

Shinza finished off her noodles with admirable speed, drank the remaining broth, and found Amrit leaning forward in earnest when she finally set her bowl down. 

“So fill me in! How was the temple?”

A highlight reel flashed across her mind of the events that had occurred during her training, and suddenly, she felt cold and exposed as the rapture of their reunion slipped away. “A lot happened up there.” 

Sensing a story coming, Amrit poured them each a cup of tea from the cast iron pot that sat between them. “Like what?”

Spirits, where was she even supposed to start? She warmed her fingers around the little metal cup. Then she said, “You know how my chi was blocked when I came to you, and we couldn’t figure out why?”

Amrit nodded, wincing a little. “Of course.”

“It turns out my parents knew I was the Avatar,” she said. “They found out when I was little, when the accident happened. They had my memories repressed and my bending blocked so I’d grow up thinking I was a non-bender.”

“Why?” he inquired, looking as disturbed as Shinza felt. He couldn’t help but glance at her scarred hands. “How did you find out?”

She scoffed at herself. “When I miscalculated an airbending move and threw myself into a rock face.” Rolling her eyes and sipping at her tea, she continued, “I have no idea why they did it. I want to believe it was to protect me.”

“I guess that’s why it took so long for the Fire Sages to find you,” he surmised. 

“I found out something else, too,” she continued. “Avatar Yeong didn’t die of an illness - he was assassinated by the Org.”

Amrit blanched. “They killed a baby?”

“Yeah,” she grunted. Her expression darkened. “They did. Which means we can’t put anything past them.”

He searched her face, looking for the worry she liked to hide. She chewed on her upper lip and stared hard at the table.

“Can I see your tattoo?” He changed the subject. She pushed up the sleeve of her thick fur coat to reveal the tattoo of Xia that wound and curled up her arm as if it were alive. 

“When my parents found out I was the Avatar, they hired a former Dai Li agent to block my bending,” she explained. “I got a letter from her while I was at the temple. She said she wanted to apologize to me in person for her role in suppressing my abilities. And I went, like a fucking idiot.”

“Trap?” Amrit inquired, tracing the crisp black lines on her forearm.

“Yeah. I barely managed to get out.”

She still felt the heat of the embers as she bent them into Nobu’s eyes. Smelled the charred flesh. Heard the crack of Yanyu’s arms as she snapped them with her bare hands. “Actually, I’d be dead or worse if Xia hadn’t rescued me. Oh, by the way, I’m probably wanted for murder in Gaoling.”

“Let’s get some sake,” he offered. “You deserve it.”

He put the order in with a passing waiter, and when the little jar arrived, he poured them each a cup. 

“It wasn’t all bad, though.” She managed a smile. “Korra and Jinora helped me restore the link to my past lives, and I invented my own airbending technique.”

His face lit up. “Really? That’s badass! Let’s see it.”

She squinted, trying to figure out how to scale down the move so she could politely do it inside the restaurant. “Okay,” she said. Then she made a faint gesture with her hands. “Reach for my cup.”

When he did, his fingertips met an invisible wall of solidified air. His brows rose in appreciation. “I gotta say, this suits you.”

“How so?”

“It’s a defensive move. Stealthy, inconspicuous. It uses your opponent’s own strength against them.”

Shinza beamed and accepted the praise. 

“Did you miss firebending?” he teased.

She snorted. “Do you mean, did I miss you making me run drills until I puked? No, I didn’t.”

Amrit grinned mirthfully. After a beat, he sobered and said, “I wish I could have been there for you. I didn’t realize you’d gone through so much.” 

Shinza swelled with affection and reached for his hand. The truth was that she wouldn’t be here with him if he hadn’t sent her off with Xia when she’d left the island. And if he hadn’t shown up at the temple when he did, she likely would have ended up wasting valuable time looking for a waterbending teacher.

“You were there for me,” she insisted. “Even if not in person. You always have been.”

The scene played again in her mind: Amrit dismounting Xia, gathering Shinza up in his arms. The flood of warmth she felt. “When you showed up at the temple this morning, I was so relieved I could have kissed you.”

“Why didn’t you?” he smirked.

Shinza felt hot blood rush to her cheeks. She ignored him, finishing the rest of her sake. “So who’s this guy we’re meeting with?”

Amrit pulled a business card out of his coat pocket and passed it to her. 

“Doctor Tenok Amaruk.” She read the name aloud, smoothing her thumb over the beautifully designed card, and then frowned. “Professor of… Water Tribe Cultural History? I thought he was a waterbending teacher.”

“Mmm, no, I didn’t say that exactly,” Amrit hedged. Pinned under Shinza’s severe gaze, he buckled. “Okay, full disclosure: I don’t actually know if he’ll agree to teach you.”

Shinza tutted. “You said you’d found me a teacher!”

“I said I may have found you a teacher,” he corrected, putting his hands up in defense. “Look, don’t worry about it, okay? I’m pretty sure I can convince him.”

__

The outer fortress of the Northern Water Tribe’s capital city had been impressive, but it was nothing compared to the interior of the city itself. As they strode through the gates, gleaming structures made of pure ice dominated their view. Residential terraces surrounded the city center, their tenants overlooking the lively streets below. Crystal-clear water, sourced from innumerable waterfalls, flowed through the street canals. For a moment, Shinza forgot to warm herself with her breathing as she took in the splendor of the Water Tribe Chief’s palace ahead of them, glinting like an enormous diamond in the sunlight.

They stepped into a gondola, which ferried them to the university, where they were to meet Dr. Amaruk. Amrit looked uncharacteristically nervous. 

“What’s your deal?” Shinza whispered.

“Nothing,” he returned. “I’m good.”

The University of the Northern Water Tribe boasted a sprawling campus, all sparkling blue buildings made of ice and smooth, snowy courtyards. The semester was coming to a close, and students milled about, rushing to their final exams. Amrit and Shinza made their way to the main building that housed the faculty’s offices and checked in with a secretary, who offered them a seat while they waited for their meeting time. After a few moments, the secretary motioned for them to go into the office. 

Tenok Amaruk was a middle-aged man, willowy, and much taller than both Amrit and Shinza. He wore a smart set of tailored garments - an artful combination of current and centuries-old Water Tribe fashion, trimmed with fur and handmade beads. They all settled into their chairs. The professor pinned Amrit like a fly across the desk with his sharp silver eyes.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Han.” He inclined his head with stiff politeness, ignoring Shinza completely. “How can I help you?”

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Amrit returned the gesture. “I’d like to introduce you to the Avatar, Shinza Kwon.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Shinza greeted, mustering as warm a smile as she could despite the look of pure disgust Dr. Amaruk wore as he gave her a cold once-over.

He grunted. “And what exactly is it that you want from me, Miss Kwon?”

“I’ve just finished my airbending training,” she replied, getting down to business. She wasn’t afraid of this asshole, but she didn’t want to be here any longer than she had to be. “We came in from the Eastern Air Temple this morning. As you know, the next element in line is water, so… I’d like you to teach me waterbending.”

She looked askance at Amrit, who had clearly passed off leading the meeting to her and looked to be sweating bullets. He was usually so self-assured and confident - what was his deal?

Dr. Amaruk glanced at her expressionlessly from behind his little circular frames. “Absolutely not.” Then he took to the stack of ungraded papers on the corner of his desk with a red pen. “You may see yourselves out.”

Quiet fury rose up in Shinza. With her fists clenched, she rose from her seat and started for the door. She saw no sense in wasting time on someone who clearly had no interest in teaching her, or treating her like a human.

“Ten,” Amrit beseeched. The old nickname caught the professor’s attention and made Shinza pause. “Please.” 

Tenok put down his pen, daring Amrit to go on. 

“The Organization is out in full force in Republic City. They have cells operating in the Earth Kingdom and spirits know where else. She’s already over ten years behind, and the semester is almost over anyway.”

“I need your help,” she admitted through her clenched teeth. “The Org murdered Avatar Yeong, and now they’re out for me. I need to learn waterbending as soon as possible.”

Tenok took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. Then he said, “Fine.”

Shinza’s jaw relaxed and she came back to her seat.

Amrit looked like he wanted to fold up into his chair and disappear. “So what’s next?”

“You tell me, Mr. Han,” Tenok replied with a thin smile.

“I guess we’ll get accommodations in the city. And then --”

“You’ll both stay with me,” Tenok sighed, waving his hand as if Amrit were speaking nonsense. “If the Organization is rallying as you say, we can’t be certain there aren’t also cells here in the North. It’s safest to stay out of plain sight.”

__

Shinza and Amrit trudged back across campus and headed to the part of town where Tenok lived. The air between them was fraught.

“Do you want to explain to me what the hell that was all about?” Shinza laid into him as they stepped into the gondola. She still trembled with carefully-bridled rage remembering the way the professor had treated both of them. “That was the weirdest fucking meeting I’ve ever been to in my life!”

Amrit opened his mouth but then closed it, defeated. He leaned forward and let his head fall into his hands in shame. “I didn’t think it would go that way. I’m sorry.”

Shinza wasn’t satisfied. “But why him? Why not someone else? Anyone else?”

“Do you know any other waterbending masters?” Amrit lashed out. All of his emotions glimmered in his dark eyes as he met her gaze. “I thought maybe the past could stay in the past, okay? The embarrassment is bad enough. I don’t need to be grilled.”

She crossed the boat and settled next to him. She said softly, “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me you had history with this guy.”

He shook his head. “It’s complicated, I guess.”

A moment passed, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “That was hard for you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” 

__

Something else Amrit had left out was the fact that Tenok lived in a mansion. It was modest compared to the ones occupied by important government officials and the like; but it was large enough that Shinza could wander off by herself, free to choose her bedroom from the numerous ones available. 

Amrit was careful about the one he selected. In the end, he chose one down the hall from Shinza - not too far away from the main bedroom, but not too close. He and Shinza may have worked things out, but he had no idea where he stood with Tenok.

He unpacked his things and then took a walk around the house. Some things had changed - repairs had been made, more Water Tribe artifacts had been hung up on the walls. But by and large, the house was exactly the same as he remembered it from over a decade ago. The sight of it brought back memories he hadn’t let himself think about for a long time.

He found himself out on a terrace that faced the city center. It was midday, and the polar sun was setting. Amrit let out an exhausted sigh and settled into a chair, grimacing as he worked to pry off The Leg, whose metal had contracted painfully due to the frigid temperature. He winced and rubbed at the sore, blistered skin just below his knee, where his shin ended.

“I can’t decide if I should feel sorry for you, or if you deserve it,” Tenok sounded behind him.

Amrit tensed. Tenok came around to settle in the chair next to him, sizing up the younger man with his leonine gaze. With surprising tenderness, he asked, “Why did you come back?”

“Shinza needed a waterbending teacher,” Amrit replied half-heartedly.

“Is that so?” Tenok replied. Amrit had changed since he’d last seen him. He was a man with a purpose now, with mirth in his eyes. Tenok continued, “You made a fool of me today.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“Was it foolish to think you had come back to me? After all this time?”

Amrit chanced a glance at Tenok. His heart ached for seeing him again, and for all the memories that overtook him. Tenok was older, thinner. He still wore his hair the same - long, tidy dreadlocks that rested nobly on his shoulders and fell down his back, some tied up into a dignified cascade at the back of his head. But at his temples, the once salt-and-pepper hair had turned white. There were frown lines around his mouth; it pained Amrit to think he might have given him those.

Amrit stood carefully, making his way on his good leg to lean on the balcony. “I’m sorry I left.”

“I’m not angry that you left!” Tenok replied, incredulous that Amrit could be so thick. He joined him at the balcony. “You had a life to return to. I understood that. But you didn’t even say goodbye.”

That wasn’t true; he’d had no life to return to. Gao and his unborn children had been taken from him. He hadn’t yet assumed his father’s position teaching the fledgling firebenders. His identity as a husband and father had been shattered. Tenok’s comforting warmth had been sutures for the gaping wound in his soul, and he simply couldn’t have withstood losing him, too. So he’d ripped the sutures out himself. After he’d left, he hadn’t gone back to the island; instead, he’d wandered the Earth Kingdom, lost as he’d ever been.

Amrit locked eyes with him. Tenok melted at the feel of his calloused fingers brushing his sharp jawline. “You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tenok gathered him up in his arms, holding him tightly. Amrit let go of the railing and leaned against him for balance. He snaked his arms around the older man’s waist, comforted by his familiar peppery tobacco scent.

“I accept your apology,” Tenok whispered in return. “Would you sit down, please?”

Amrit hobbled back to his seat. Tenok glanced at his leg. “I can help, if you’ll allow me.”

Amrit hesitated, but then conceded. “I’d be grateful.”

Tenok lifted his leg onto his lap and melted some of the ice nearby, warming the water and letting it coat his hand. It glowed blue with potent healing energy, and Amrit immediately relaxed under Tenok’s hand. The professor worked carefully at the end of his leg, gently softening the tensed muscles and repairing the blistered skin. 

Amrit closed his eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

@chromecutie @hetapeep41 @jaymzbush @my-remedy-is-euphoria

[ratedbangtann]

"𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫!" | 𝙃𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙠 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝...

                          Pairing: Hoseok/Reader

Word count: 3.5k Warnings: angry sex, rough sex, spitting, dirty talk, degradation, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids, for the love of god...), a hint of consensual non-consent??, very little lubrication, breath deprivation/choking.

a/n: Everything in this fic is consensual. Yes, this is angry sex. Yes, it's spur of the moment. But please know that if y/n had ever wanted Hoseok to stop what he was doing, she would just need to tell him, and he would. Thank you. Enjoy.

                      "You can be such an asshole sometimes," you huffed, slamming the kitchen cupboards in the hunt for whichever saucepan you needed to make the dinner you begrudgingly decided to make for Hoseok and yourself.

"Me? You've been acting like a little bitch for days. What is it, PMS?" he yelled angrily.

At this point, neither of you knew what you were fighting about. Hoseok had done something wrong, you were sure of that, but frankly you had no idea what it was. It had been so long since, but you were still stewing, just from the cockiness and sheer arrogance he protruded. His 'can do no wrong' impression of himself was pissing you off beyond belief.

"Ever think to ask why, Hoseok? Hmm? No, of course not. You never do anything wrong; nothing is ever your fault... Prince fucking Hoseok is right again," you spat, slamming the saucepan onto the stove to fill with the chicken stock you had already made up in a jug.

"What is your problem? Is it 'cause I've been working so much again? You know there's nothing I can do about that, y/n..." It always came back to this. No, it was never the reason. Sure, it sucked; but you never got mad about it, never got pissy. There was no need; you kept yourself busy and he was living his dream. You'd always supported that.

You just rolled your eyes at him, pushing past him to collect the jug of chicken stock to pour into the pan.

"When have I ever used that against you?" you retorted. "Never. I have never said that."

"You don't need to say it, your attitude says it all," he raised his voice at you and immediately your defences went up.

"Attitude? I didn't fucking do anything, Hoseok! You come home every day fucking moody as shit with me after preaching to the damn world that you're 'they're hope', but you act like such a-" you were interrupted by the slam of the kitchen door. Hoseok had left, storming off to the bedroom in a fit of rage. You'd attacked his philosophy, his mantra; was that too far?

Possibly, but you couldn't even entertain the idea that you had done anything wrong right now. Not when he acted the way he did with you. So instead, you ignored the situation and focussed on cooking, whether he was going to eat it with you or not. He at least couldn't throw in your face that you hadn't made him any food...

Like the stew on the boil, your anger bubbled away and festered deep in you. How dare he treat you like shit every damn day and then blame you? At first you had thought it was simply frustration from work, but it never usually carried on this long. Hobi loved what he did, and he was so disgustingly optimistic that it threw you to see him in a constant state of agitation.

"Dinner!" You yelled into the open, setting the bowls of stew down across from each other at the table. You heard movement upstairs, footsteps on the landing and down the steps as he stomped down them, clearly still reeling.

You sat in your seat and started your food, completely ignoring his presence when he dropped into the chair in front of you wordlessly. You didn't even look up, only knowing it would piss him off more. If there was one thing Hoseok hated, it was being ignored.

So that's exactly what you did. You tucked into your stew, eyes never bothering to wonder even a little to look up at Hoseok sat opposite you. You looked unbothered; not pissed off, not upset, not completely heartbroken like he had hoped you would be, just a little bit, but completely and utterly indifferent.

If he were to compare you to anything, he'd say you were acting like a mother in a supermarket who was sick and tired of her child having a tantrum, still going about her daily errands with the screams and stomps of a toddler behind her.

It enraged him.

He stared at you, eyes boring into the top of your head. His pupils dilated, his irises a deeper shade of chocolate than that of a calm Hoseok. If looks could kill, you'd have been face-first in your bowl, life drained out of you. Perhaps if you looked into his eyes right now, it would have the same effect as Medusa herself.

As he watched you eat, occasionally lifting a spoonful of broth to his own mouth, his anger only grew. How could you ignore him like this? Hadn't you been upset at all? Did it not bother you that he was pissed off?

He wanted a rise out of you, and he was getting nothing back.

He started tapping his fingers on the table, annoyingly so. He was doing anything he could to get a reaction now, pathetically trying his hardest to annoy you further. But you let it slide, like water off a duck's back.

He could feel his face getting hotter, his eye starting to twitch. You remained indifferent.

Hoseok gave up on eating his food, instead he leaned on the table by his elbows, his spoon dangling between his fingers as he watched you intently. He chewed his bottom lip until it was sore, the flesh throbbing and red.

Suddenly he dropped his spoon to the table, making your shoulders jump a little at the clatter of metal on wood but you still never looked up. You just sipped on another mouthful of stew, slipping into what you could only describe as feeling absolutely tiny; threatened, almost.

He ran his hands through his hair and sat forward, leaning on both elbows with his hands clasped tightly together, thumb sticking out as he bit on the nail. He needed a reaction out of you; that little jump at the noise he made was not enough, it would never be enough.

The fury bubbled and brewed and rose inside him, tipping him over the edge until eventually, he snapped.

Suddenly, he slammed his forearms on the table, his fists colliding with the wood making the cutlery and crockery laid out clatter and jump under the force. You looked up at him immediately, eyes wide and heart racing at his outburst. He was never like this, never got this angry... The expression on his face was one of menace, looking at you as if he hated you with every fibre of his being. He had managed to wind himself up so much that he exploded beyond what he ever had with you.

"FUCK this!" he yelled, with another final punch to the table as he stood up so quickly, kicking his chair back so hard it fell and hit the wall behind him. He strode around the table to where you sat as you looked at him with a terrified expression on your face. You weren't sure what he was going to do, but of course, you trusted him to never do anything that would ever hurt or frighten you for real.

Hoseok was a master of intimidation and you expected him simply to hover over you and demand an apology, but not tonight. He didn't want that.

Instead he kicked the leg of your chair to angle you toward him, swiped the almost empty bowl of stew and the cutlery accompanying it until it fell off the table and slotted his hands under your arms to pick you up, practically throwing you onto the wooden surface.

"Hoseok, what are you-?" you started but he clamped his hand over your mouth, leaning into hover less than an inch away from your face, your noses so close to touching.

"Shut up," he demanded. "Your attitude is pissing me off, y/n. I've fucking had enough of it." He dropped his hand from your mouth and fumbled to grip onto your thighs, exposed by the rise of the skirt of your dress. He pushed his hands up slowly, forcing you to widen them so he could slot himself between them, bringing himself closer to you.

A thrill ran through you, your hands gripping onto Hoseok's wrists where he held the tops of your thighs.

"I don't have a fucking attitude," you spat, pushing him to his limit. He smiled evilly, his eyes darkening significantly.

"Oh yes you do... And you know what I'm gonna do?" You tilted your chin up a little, urging him to continue. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude right out of you," he growled. Before your body or your mind had any time to react, Hoseok was grabbing your hips and violently dragging them to the edge of the table.

Under your skirt, he ripped the material of your panties so the remnants hung around your thigh, still not completely torn off; that wasn't his concern. He just needed access.

His hands moved so quickly they could have blurred before your eyes, pulling the zipper of his jeans down and popping the button, shoving the denim down with his briefs until they were pulled taught against his thighs. His cock hovered so close to your heat, you wanted it so badly but you knew you weren't ready.

In the absence of foreplay your body didn't have the time to catch up and prepare you for any kind of penetration. It aggravated you more, knowing you needed him.

Apparently, Hoseok had already thought that through. He hocked back a glob of saliva, ducking his head to spit it onto your pussy, pushing his fingers against you to swirl it around. You had to take a deep breath to stop yourself from reacting aloud; watching him preparing you so dirtily would have had you dripping naturally if it weren't happening all so fast.

He'd only ever spat on you once before – with your permission – when he was about to devour your pussy completely, but that was not the purpose of this today. He spat another glob into his free hand, working it along his shaft until he was satisfied that the both of you were lubed enough to proceed.

He grabbed your hips again, his hands still wet and sloppy and lined himself up with your pussy, forcing himself into you. Yes, it burned. Yes, you could have been more prepared. But in the heat of the moment, you just didn't give a shit. If you had stopped him or told him to wait, he would have; there was enough trust in your relationship to know that. But you didn't stop him, you didn't want to.

With the anger coursing through the both of you still, the pain added to the experience. Angry, hot, hate sex was exactly what you fucking needed; both of you.

So when he wasted no time in pulling out of you just to thrust back in with a grunt, you squeezed your eyes shut, bit your lip and forced back a moan that was bubbling in your throat.

A few more harsh, fast thrusts of Hoseok's hips against yours had the burning stretch fading away and that wonderful full feeling taking over instead. His fingers dug into your hips, sure to leave little bruises and crescent moon shapes where his nails poked into the flesh.

His jaw clenched with every thrust, a grunt with each slap of his pelvis against yours. He wasn't sparing any aggression, using you as a way to let it all out, rampant and completely overpowering. He stared down at his cock moving in and out of you, watching the way your pussy dragged him back in and feeling your walls clenching around him. He loved this view; it turned him into a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth.

But you wanted him to look at you. You wanted him to see the anger in your face, the rage still burning in you. You knew it would be adding fuel to the fire and that was your exact intention.

You reached forward with one hand, fisting it in his t-shirt and pulling him forward, his face hovering inches from yours. He looked up at you immediately, his brow creased and nose scrunched up in the way he often did when he was angry, or when he hit a particular beat in his choreography.

"What is it, huh? Not fucking you hard enough? Not pounding your dirty little pussy enough?" he taunted, lifting one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the base of your neck, holding onto a fistful of it to pull your head back and expose your neck to him. "You want it harder?"

That was it; you couldn't hold it in anymore. The pleasure of his thrusts, the harshness of his words, the anger in his tone all proved too much to handle and finally, you let out the first of many long, drawn out moans. He smirked at the noise, never letting his hips falter but the grip on your hair tightened which elicited a whine from you, your hand flying up to wrap around his wrist.

You had no problem being fucked like this, no issue with Hoseok letting his anger out like this because it was having the same therapeutic effect on you, and good lord, it felt so good.

"Look at you, huh? All that bitching and moaning and you can't even string together a fucking sentence now," he mocked, before he leaned in and attacked your neck with sloppy kisses, teeth nipping at the skin and biting down every so often.

The heat between your thighs grew and grew and now, your own arousal was spilling onto Hoseok's cock, still thrusting into you without mercy. Hoseok could feel it; the warmth, the wetness... It was driving him wild. His cock was throbbing inside you with need and frankly, you both knew that neither of you were going to last much longer.

"W-why do you... always act, like... like such a... jerk?" you spluttered, not caring that you were only pissing him off more; both of you loved it.

"You gonna talk back to me, huh? Really? In this position? I don't know if you're brave or just fucking stupid," he hissed, pulling his lips from your neck and his hand from your hair only to wrap it around your throat and force you to look at him again.

He pressed his forehead to yours, staring menacingly into your eyes and watching as they fell hooded with lust and pleasure, the orgasm stirring in your groin distracting you. You could feel his fingers tightening around your throat, pressing down on those crucial points to limit your air supply, only to cut it off completely.

You tried to grasp for breath, but nothing. You held onto his wrist, feeling the tendons in it hard and unmoving as he fucked into you and held you so damn tight in his hands. Tears pricked at your eyes but you never took them from Hoseok's, letting him stare into your very soul with his tongue sticking out of his mouth and teeth bared to you.

"You gonna cum, huh? Can feel it; you're pulsing on me. Do it, fucking cum..." he commanded and that was all you needed to send you soaring to new heights.

It hit you like a runaway train on a track, shockwaves ricocheting through you just as Hoseok's grip on your throat fell away completely. You dragged in as much oxygen as your lungs would allow, forcing a dizziness on you that only added to the euphoric feeling and rushing endorphins through your system.

Your pussy clenched impossibly tight on Hoseok and he found himself barely able to move, forcing his cock to drag out of you but that drag was ultimately what was going to bring him to his end too.

You went slack in his arms, head lolling back but he wouldn't have it. He held your head up with one hand, the other behind your back to keep you upright but his hips never stopped moving, despite having to find a new rhythm to work to with how tightly your walls were clenching him over and over again.

Your arms hung by your side, too weak to move, like all the energy had been drained from you. Your eyes had rolled into the back of your head and try as he might, he couldn't manage to get you to look at him.

"Hey! Hey, y/n... look at me..." he encouraged, all anger and harshness completely void in his tone. His hips still moved as furiously as they could and his grip on you didn't loosen, but he spoke much softer now, dragging you back from the bliss you had succumbed to.

When you finally looked back to him, you saw his brow still creased, sweat dripping from the end of his nose. His chest heaved and huffed with every deep breath he had to take.

"That's it, good girl. Look at me, y/n. Watch me..." he instructed, so close to his own end. You clenched on him again, using whatever reserves of strength you could find to bring him to his high too.

He pushed his forehead to yours again, groaning like some kind of animal as finally, he hit his orgasm too. Warmth spilled inside of you, his cock twitching as his movements stuttered. His breath felt so hot on your face as he let his groans and grunts out, still trying his best to move his hips and ride out his high until he was completely empty.

You could feel a stickiness between your legs as he pulled out of you now that he was softening. You felt dirty, you felt used but above all you felt satisfied and relieved.

Hoseok hovered above you, forehead still pressed to yours as the two of you caught your breath. He held you in place still, never letting your weak little body fall.

"Hobi..." you whined, using hit pet name for the first time in over a week. It made him soften up completely, all tension releasing from his body as he looked up into your eyes to see them glistening, close to tears. Your bottom lip trembled, and you honestly felt like you were going to break down.

The last week or two had been horrendous; you hated fighting with Hobi but the two of you were just so stubborn you couldn't back down and admit when you were in the wrong. It was a trait you shared and every so often, it would be an obstacle you had to overcome.

"Shh, I'm here baby, I'm here..." he pulled you to him, letting you bury your head into his neck and grip onto his t-shirt, the first of many soft little sobs escaping your chest. "Hey, don't cry... I've got you," he reassured, stroking your hair and peppering soft kisses to the side of your head.

"Don't... wanna fight," you sobbed into his neck.

"Me neither... I'm so sorry, baby. I was an asshole, there was no need for it," he admits and honestly, a weight lifted from your shoulders. You nodded against him, clinging on.

"I was a bitch too..." you confessed.

"Doesn't matter. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry..." you pushed off his chest to sit up, looking up at him. He also had tears threatening to fall in his eyes, his features far softer now than they had been a few moments ago.

He tucked your hair behind your ear and trailed his fingers along your jawline to where your bottom lip pouted outward a little. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours with gentility, planting a sweet and lingering kiss to them.

"I love you..." he mumbled, almost ashamed of himself. He sounded small and hoped that you would accept the smallest of declarations that he could give to you in this moment. But he did feel ashamed of himself; for making you feel like this, for taking his frustrations out on you when there was no need for it, and nothing you had done had contributed to it in the slightest.

"I love you too, Hobi..." you leaned forward to press your lips to his again, just briefly. "Need a shower..." you whined, still very aware of the stickiness between your thighs that was starting to dry.

Hoseok took a step back, letting go of you to pull his jeans back up his hips and just do up the button, leaving the fly down. He'd be taking them off again shortly anyway. Scooping you up in his arms, he carried you upstairs to the bathroom so that he and he alone could take you into the shower, clean you off and spend the rest of the evening taking care of the girl he loved so dearly.

He had a lot of making up to do, and this is where he was going to start.

[mortyvongola2-0]

Redemption

Chapter 1

Pairing: Armitage Hux x Reader

Genre: Multichapter fic, 18+

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, partial nudity, assumed attempted sexual assault (no actual sexual assault though, just a misunderstanding)

Read it on AO3

Next Chapter

His eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was a swirling unfamiliar ceiling. He then realized that he was in a great amount of pain. His entire body felt like it was on fire, aching and pulsing with inflammation. A deep groan left his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. The general, former general, heard shuffling beside him and felt a shadow fall over him. Who was it? Some Resistance member, no doubt come to finish off the job Pryde couldn’t. He didn’t care, everything he had was gone, everything he once was, was no more. As long as Pryde and Kylo Ren didn’t get the satisfaction of having killed him, it didn’t matter. The ginger kept his eyes closed, not scrunched or clenched, he would embrace death willingly. But instead of death, he continued to feel the same throbbing pains, with the added pleasure of a cooling ointment being rubbed onto the spot he knew to be where the blaster fire had met his flesh.

 Hux peeked an eye open slowly, hesitantly. Above him was an unfamiliar form, someone he had never seen before. A young woman, wearing scraps of dull colored clothing, sat on her knees beside him, her smaller scared hands rubbing ointment into his skin gently. Immediately, the throbbing that accompanied inflammation began to die down and he let his other eye open. He stared at her, unsure whether she was an enemy or a random civilian. She had no insignia, and after looking around as much as he could without too much movement, he realized that the two of them were surrounded by rock. Were they in a cave? Most likely. He turned his attention back to her when he heard her close the lid of whatever ointment she had used on him. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse and throat dry. He tried to clear it.

 The girl jumped in surprise, the ointment dropping out of her hands. It clanged loudly against the stone flooring and he flinched a bit at the echo. She turned to face him, eyes wide and hands trembling. Armitage raised an eyebrow at her obvious fear. “Is everything alright?” His voice sounded worse that time, and he coughed rather violently. The force of his cough brought new waves of pain through his chest as it irritated his wound. He wondered how fresh it was, how long he’d been there.

 She stood quickly and ran off. A sigh escaped him, if she was an enemy, she was poor one at best. One should never show fear to an enemy, after all, let alone run from one. At least, he thought, she was rather pretty. Without so much dirt and ragged coverings, he thought she might even be considered beautiful. After a bit of time had passed, he heard footsteps once more, quick ones, and he could tell by the sound against the stone that they were bare feet. It was the girl. She knelt beside him once more and set a large claw bowl down to her right. Hux wished to see what she was doing a bit better, so he tried to sit up and she helped him. She placed a bundle of cloth behind his back to make sitting up not only easier but more comfortable against the rocks of the cave wall. Once he was comfortably sitting up she leaned over the bowl she had brought and dipped her hands into it.

 Using her hands in place of a cup, she brought the liquid out of the bowl, he figured it to be water, and up to his lips. When he didn’t immediately start drinking from her hands, she ushered them forward a bit more, a bit of the cool water splashing against his bare abdomen. “Okay, okay,” he muttered and began to sip from her outstretched hands. He had not realized how thirsty he had been until she decided he could just drink from the edge of the clay bowl. Once he had downed all of the fluid, he handed the bowl back to her. The girl nodded and stood up once more, still a bit skittish. He could tell she was still trembling. “What’s your name?” He asked. She looked down at him curiously and tilted her head to the side. “Your name,” he repeated. “What is it? I should like to thank my savior properly.”

 She continued to stare at him, blinking in confusion. Was he crazy? Did he hit his head too hard when he crashed? Was he not speaking basic? She remained unspeaking and turned around and walked away quickly. Her reaction was unexpected, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much about it. He would die soon anyway, whether he was killed by an enemy, her, or himself, he was unsure. But he would die. There was nothing left for him in the world of the living anymore. His First Order, gone. His Finalizer, gone. His men, gone. Plans, gone, ambitions, turned to dust, leader, murdered by a buffoon, even his precious Millicent was gone.

 “Mrwow,” as if having heard his thoughts, his precious orange tabby came sauntering over to him from further in the cave. Armitage blinked at her in shock. It seemed she had also survived the crash, thankfully. Millicent began to purr as she curled up by her master’s side, making sure to sidle up as close to his hand as possible to ask for his affections. The girl also returned, this time holding a smaller clay bowl. Again, she knelt at his side, but she made sure to give the feline next to him a few scratches before turning her attention back to the ginger male. She set the bowl to the side and began to more her hands about, making odd shapes and symbols with them, and moving them in differing motions before staring at him expectantly. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

 She furrowed her brow and repeated her actions. He shook his head at her and repeated the same statement. A huff left her lips and she looked down to the bowl beside her. Picking it up once more, she made a sipping motion, and rubbed her abdomen. That he understood and he nodded. She gave him a shy smile before handing the bowl over to him. It was some type of stew, a light-colored broth with hunks of veggies and unfamiliar meats. Hux downed the bowl in a single swallow, some of it spilling past his cheeks and down his chin. He had never been too picky of an eater.

 The girl seemed surprised by his actions and she pressed a hand to her chapped lips. Again, her brow furrowed, and he wondered what she was thinking. Why hadn’t she spoken to him? Could she not understand him? Then where was he, to be on a planet with a human who didn’t understand basic? Armitage watched her carefully, and she watched him intently. Her features were soft and feminine but marred by dirt and scars. The wrapping she wore covered her neck entirely, her breasts and abdomen, but not her arms and shoulders. She wore some type of wrapping for loose pants that obviously did not fit her. Her feet were bare and scarred, much dirtier than the rest of her. It seemed that as he continued to stare at her she grew more and more uncomfortable. He was about to ask for her name again when his stomach grumbled, loudly. The girl let out some odd huffs, hoarse and almost without tone, her shoulders shook, and she covered her mouth with her hand once more, but it seemed as if she was smiling. Was she laughing? What an odd sound she made.

 She got to her feet again and picked up the clay bowl the soup had been in earlier. He assumed she was leaving to get him some more of the stew, and he was correct. The girl came back and handed him the bowl once more, watching in fascination as he swallowed the broth and chewed the chunks in a bit more than one go. The third time she brought him the stew, he didn’t finish it, only getting about halfway through before feeling almost too full. “Again, thank you,” he said. She pressed her lips together at that and shook her head. He didn’t understand.

 She looked around them, were they being watched? Once she had finished looking, she glanced back at him. Again, she made various hand motions and shapes, these being different from the last ones. Was that why she wouldn’t speak? Because they were being monitored? He glanced around, now also looking for enemies. A strangled noise came from the girl and she grabbed him by the cheeks and forced him to look at her once again. “Are you in trouble? Are we being watched?”

 The girl kept her hands on his cheeks, making him look her in the eyes. He didn’t understand. What was going? Millicent let out a yawn and stretched at his side before curling up once more. Now visibly frustrated, the girl huffed and let go of his face. “I don’t understand, what’s going on here?”

 It seemed the girl had figured out what she wanted to do. She brought two of her fingers up and pointed at his eyes, then to her own. He understood that. She was telling him, ‘Watch me’. Once he nodded at her in response, she let out a noiseless huff and reached up for the wrappings around her neck. Slowly, she began to untie them, the wrappings around her torso slowly loosening along with the ties. Before she could finish unwrapping them, they both heard footsteps. Hux could tell that these steps were booted, and he narrowed his eyes at the direction they were coming from.

 Without missing a beat, the girl stood and ran towards the sound. He heard the booted footsteps stop, then heard the shuffling of clothing and hands. Armitage narrowed his eyes in that direction. Soon, the girl emerged, a larger figure in tow. The other figure looked to be a human male, with dark skin and long dreaded hair. He wore a cream-colored cloak with a hood, a dark green tunic, and brown colored pants. The girl made all sorts of motions at him animatedly. She was making many expressions and mouthing things that he could not get the hang of. All the while her hands were going, again making shapes and motions he’d never seen before. The other male placed his hands on the girl’s shoulders gently, which stopped her motions, before noticing the undone wrappings on her torso. He narrowed his eyes before looking toward Hux with aggravation. The ginger responded in kind. Steely blue eyes glaring back at honey colored brown.

 In a language Armitage had not heard, the man spoke to the girl and placed his cloak over her shoulders. She snuggled herself into it easily. The dark-skinned man said something else to her, at which she nodded, before running off in the direction he had come from. He turned to face the ginger, his left hand rubbing his right wrist. “Taking advantage of your savior, hm? Scum like you are the worst.”

 Hux narrowed his eyes. So, he could speak basic. His accent, though thick and unfamiliar, was not so bad as to be misunderstood. “I believe you are misunderstanding the situation.”

 “I understand plenty,” he responded roughly. He took a few steps toward the ginger before kneeling in front of his Hux’s pale and bare feet. “If she had not found you, you would be nothing but rot. You should be grateful I have not notified the Resistance officials.”

 So, he knew who he was. He chose to ignore that comment. “Does the girl not know basic?”

 “She does not,” he responded dryly. “And she has a name.”

 “Well, I would love to hear it,” Armitage said dryly, forcing back his urge to roll his eyes. The other tilted his head to the side as he looked at the ginger. Carefully, he uttered your name, and Hux made sure to remember it well. “Can you tell her thank you for me, then? Seeing as I don’t know what language you both speak.”

 The man smirked, “You can tell her yourself you know, as long as your hands work.”

 “My hands?”

 “When she comes back, do this,” he said and made a gesture with one of his hands with a single fluid motion. Hux repeated it. “It means thank you.”

 “And what is your name?”

 “I’ll let her tell you,” he muttered before standing back to his full height. “I’ll be back to check on the two of you later. Be good, general.” He uttered the word with so much sarcasm that the ginger could feel his blood begin to boil. The only person who had annoyed him that much with only a few words had been Kylo Ren. Green clad man walked further into the cave, disappearing in the opposite direction you had gone in.

 It took quite some time for you to return, and when you did, you and your wrappings, including the cloak that the other man had placed on your shoulders, were wet with what he assumed with rain. A large smile was plastered on your face, and you held what looked like pieces of scrap metal in your arms. When you noticed Armitage’s stare, you paused in your trek to go further into the cave. After setting down the pieces of scrap metal, you slowly approached him and pressed a wet hand to his forehead. Your small hand was so cold against his skin, he almost shivered. He said your name softly, and you nodded back to him in acknowledgment.

 You took your hand away from his forehead and brought the blankets that were around his waist further up his body. He stopped you before you could wrap it around his upper body and hesitant made and gesture and motion the green-clad man had showed him. It took you by surprise, but you gave him a bright smile and repeated the motion to him. Then, you took the cloak off of your shoulders and let it hit the stone floor with a wet smack. Again, you began to undo the wrappings around your neck and torso, and Armitage motioned for you to stop. He couldn’t lean too far forward, his wound wouldn’t let him, but he still reached out and grabbed your left arm, but it was too late. Your wrappings fell, your upper body completely exposed to him. He immediately narrowed his eyes.

 ‘Watch me’, you motioned to him again, then pointed at the expanse of your neck. You tilted your head back to give him a better view. There was a long and jagged scar there that stopped right at the edge of where your collar bones met. It looked like an older scar, like it had had years to heal. Your hand grabbed his wrist and brought his hand up to the scar. He was confused. This was what you wanted to show him? Why you bared your breasts and abdomen to him? You had scars everywhere, so why was this one so special? Hux ran his fingers along the scar as he thought about what you were trying to tell him. And then it hit him all at once.

 The hand gesturing, the odd breathy noises you had made, the scar.

 You were mute.

~

A/N: RC's hand signs are based off of ASL if you want to imagine them. Most of the stuff in this story will be based off of American Deaf Culture, as I live in America, even though RC is not deaf. (I love Deaf Culture, I've studied it a bit at university but if anyone sees any glaring inconsistencies, because obviously there will be some differences and i will try to mention them at the beginning chapter notes, please let me know thanks)

[heistgoda]

      there are times  where adonis begins to speak without thought ,  rare occurrences where he parts the cobwebs in his throat and croaks something tired and ancient and of a different man ,  if only ever for to bring her eyes upon him and have the space they share keel at the knees with its own weight.  killing will not bring you peace ,  he says ,  sitting in a broth filled with bone and strange lipid ,  cast in the  soft red tinge  of an increasingly transparent heart.  everything she says to him has always been a thinly veiled threat that has him foaming at the mouth for the warm embrace of her startled womanhood ,   the breadth of her grasp as natural as the violence in which he sheathes himself.

      ---   at the infantile caress against his wrist ,  he is soothed only by the trance it lulls him into ,  eyes permanently fixed on this slow command of skin and intimacy.  an articulation of dominance.  how endearing it would to be take two fingers and dig them into the hearth of her upturned wrist ,  to fish his way into the thin cocoon of her flesh and pluck out a vein with the tip of blunt nail.  would the blood feel good ,  rushing and pressing into the open spaces around his index and middle ?  what noise would she make when he pulled away ,  steady stream of red pouring from her arm and onto his person ?  it would be sweet ,  he thinks ;  edible.  what a wondrous thought it is ,  to lay in the ocean of crimson that cedes from her body and let it stick the tips of his hair to his forehead and into his eyes ,  to kiss the tops of his cheeks and send an open - mouthed acknowledgment as it ran down the curve of a dagger - edged nose and onto his lips and   ---   oh ,  the taste of it !   tongue as red as her infidelity ,  parting from the vermilion wound of his lips and catching her death as a stain against his teeth.  he’ll let her mix with the fray of his gums and rest in the roof of his mouth until he dies from chewing the taste out of his own tongue ,  raw and bloody and addicted. 

         the look she sends him is one of a practiced fragility ,  the kind that has him holding his ribcage in the churning blow it sends about the nature of her person and ,  furthermore ,  the nature of their love.  their half - love ;  their starved love.  the love that does not requite nor reciprocate.  the love that manifests as anything but ,  infested by maggots that call for him at a distance below the earth ,  biting into the carcass of meat that has become his old person and breaking his body into portions that are easier for her to digest.  still ,  she will regurgitate that absolution as if it were a poison.  still ,  he will remain on one end of god’s thread and she the other ,  calling out from the  seven - mile gap  that has managed to make them echoes of individuals ,  constantly walking the tightrope to each other and slipping on the blood it coats itself in.  

        he takes a step closer now ,  bodies joined at the bone and yet ever - apart.  when he speaks ,  it is quiet and tired and without emotion ,  evocative timbre lost to the chase that has not let him stop to catch his breath. 

      ❝    you talk so much ,  magdalena ,  but you have a way of saying very little.  you are of use to me ,  and that’s that.    ❞  cont. with violenthours.

[commanderleifn7]

Chocolate Dessert

The ramen shop bustled with the lunchtime rush, people in large groups gathered at tables, slurping up noodles, conversing with one another, simply enjoying their day. It all served as a vague backdrop to Ethan, who sat at the micro-bar, amongst other furs and humans, apathetic to them all, and instead focusing on his own food.. Ethan was a chocolate cat, feline in shape and delicious in taste. He wore a simple white shirt, and some fairly short shorts, all accentuating his more effeminate figure. As he slurped the noodles, a bit of steaming hot broth splashed onto his hand, and he grumbled, feeling the familiar effects of heat wear down on his body, melting the small patch. He touched at it, like one would with a small cut, accidentally spreading melted chocolate on his fingers. Being made of the substance lead to many difficulties in life. He would have to wait for the bowl to cool before he could eat it. With his attention idle, he glanced around the room, feeling a little bored. That’s when he saw her. With plates colored in deep purple and her markings almost serving as their own personal bright blue light show, Ester stood out from the normal crowd. Her legs were crossed, showing the rounded thighs beneath her skirt, the alien woman not ashamed. She wore a loose, turian style tank top on her torso, showing off the fact that those ornate markings didn’t simply stop at her face, but implicitly covered every inch of her. Ethan couldn’t help but stare. He knew she came here often, maybe it was one of her favorite lunch places. He reflected back to the time when he first saw the woman. She had walked up to the micro-bar, and chatted up some human fellow. It was odd to see for certain, but she held her conversation there, in full view of all the other patrons, including Ethan. The whole thing culminated in her opening her mouth at the edge of the platform and having the human crawl inside of her mouth, the little fellow convinced to become another bite to join Ester’s lunch that day. He could still remember it so vividly, the little human clamoring atop the tongue, his form comparatively dark to the bright blue glowing flesh inside her maw. Watching him slide around in there for a moment before that maw closed, seeing her let out a wet swallow, it was all enhanced when she winked at Ethan himself! Afterwards he watched her stroll back to her table, her hips swaying alluringly with each step before she planted herself back into the chair and carried on with slurping up noodles as if nothing had ever happened. Something clicked in him that he was reluctant to confront that day. It was only a few minutes later that he saw Ester’s own eyes go towards the crowd as well, when he hurriedly ducked back to his food, a gesture that seemed fairly suspicious. Such an action caught the eye of a particularly curious turian. Ester’s eyes peered over the menu as she saw a particularly interesting individual. She had seen Ethan here before, even hacked into his omnitool to get a read on him. She was a person watcher like that; she frequently invaded privacy to continue her studies. But the fact that the cat was made out of chocolate intrigued her the most. She could use some dessert, and the thought made a devilish grin appear on her mandibles. A few minutes later, after Ethan had consumed most of his meal, his omnitool buzzed and a message appeared on the screen. He cocked a brow and was curious. It read: “instead of staring, how about you come over and join me for lunch?” A chill went down his spine and he became red hot in embarrassment as he turned to look at Ester. His eyes met hers, and she gave him a playful wink as they both confirmed each other’s suspicions. Ethan sighed and decided to bite the socially awkward bullet. He waved over to a waiter, a salarian fellow, and asked him to carry him over to Ester’s table. Her grin remained as she sat back in her chair, retaining a casual pose as the waiter graciously set the chocolate cat atop the table. Ethan quickly got his bearings, as he was set between a small plate with sushi to his left, and a massive towering bowl of hot ramen to his right . The sushi plate seemed half full, and Ethan’s mind seemed to yell at him, warning about where the food obviously went. “Well hi there.” She said with a small chuckle. She really was trying to seem pleasant to Ethan if her tone of voice was anything to go by. “I noticed you look at me on occasion while we’re both here. I figured you might wanna come talk one of these days… sorry to sort of make it today but I was tired of waiting.” Ethan seemed to blush again, squirming in place between Ester’s food. She casually scooped up a bundle of noodles to her mouth as she spoke, being deliberately taunting with parting her jaws wide before the cat and slurping them up loudly. “Yeah uh… sorry abou-” “Oh kitty don’t even worry about it.” Ester interrupted, swallowing that mouthful of food. Waved her hand, as if to dismiss Ethan’s concerns. “Name’s Ester, and I take it as a compliment when someone stares. I do it myself on occasion.” “Er…” Ethan mumbled. Ester seemed to lean in, sipping at her drink’s straw and winking at Ethan. “Oh should I apologize? Does the idea of that make you uncomfortable.” There was a sense of generosity in the taunting tone. She then decided to ease off on him, instead leaning back in her seat and gesturing to her sushi. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ethan. You can have some of my sushi if you’d like? I know cats do enjoy seafood… wait is that racist?” The timing of what she said caused Ethan to chuckle, allowing him to relax a little. He shook his head, nodding to the sushi. “Well this cat particularly likes sushi. I’d love some of that yellowtail if you don’t mind?” “Not at all.” She hummed. Ester used a talon to slice off a small fillet from the fillet of fish, and plucked a grain of rice for Ethan, ushering him onto her plate. It was like the size of a footlong sandwich for him, and Ethan bit into it happily, thanking Ester for treating him with some extra food. “So tell me about yourself little guy… starting with why you smell so sweet.” Ethan seemed to seize up at this remark, his eyes widening at Ester who quickly put up her hands, shaking her head. “Don’t worry little guy, I’m not going to eat you if you’re not asking for it. We turians are just good at… smelling?” Ester seemed to fumble over herself at that moment, but gave him a reassuring smile. Ethan sighed and chuckled again, adjusting himself. “Well I can’t blame you too much if you wanted to. I’m made of chocolate. You can assume all the hassles that can lead to, especially involving preds.” “Oh I bet.” Ester leaned on the table, with her chin resting in her hand, letting out a soft coo with her subharmonics. “I hope I didn’t come across like one of them. I meant what I said earlier about only eating you if you were willing for it.” “Heh, so I take it that you do?” Ethan sat back, taking another bite of that slice of raw fish and rice, he still seemed nervous, but more curious now. Ester smiled, chuckling to herself. It was almost as if some kind of facade melted off her face. Her gaze shifted into a glare, one a lion might give to its meal, but with a more kind smile to go along with it. “I’ve had some musings. One of the reasons why I asked you to come over is to figure out if I wanted to see if you would make a good friend, or an even better snack.” She licked at her mandible. She continued to eat, picking up the rest of that yellowtail nigiri that Ethan was seated next to and plopping it into her mouth. “Annnnd which exactly are you shooting for now?” Ethan asked, shivering as he watched Ester swallow, sending that chewed mess down into her stomach. “You tell me, my cute little truffle.” Ester smiled, resuming with the rest of her lunch, ignoring Ethan’s comment about how he wouldn’t technically fit the description of a chocolate truffle. She brought her bowl to her lips, sipping at the hot broth and sending it gushing down her pulsing throat. With most of the fluid drained down her pulsing, glowing throat, she set the bowl down with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll tell you what, if I don’t end up convincing you to melt down in my stomach today, we could go get your nails and my talons done and be friends instead. Though I have to say, I’m much better at making people food than I am at making them my friends.” “Food is temporary, friends are forever.” Ethan said, as if to catch Ester in some sort of trap. The alien giant simply chuckled and shook her head, shooting down his point entirely. “Friends can come and go little guy. The food you eat becomes part of you, and wouldn’t you want to be part of all of this turian?” She placed her hand on her crest, as if in a haughty gesture, chuckling some more. “And besides, friends end up as snacks for me anyways, so what does that do for your point?” There was a shared laugh between the giant and the tiny being, both of them seeming to relax a little now. Ester rested her chin on her hands again, having let out a soft sigh. “You know what’s interesting? You haven’t turned me away yet.So that tells me you’re at least interested right? How about you let me do a few things to convince you?” Ethan let out a huff and rolled his eyes, his arms crossed. He turned away from Ester, almost playing hard to get with her. Still though, the little frown on his face demonstrated some apprehension. “... fine. You can try.” Ester’s mandibles fluttered with joy. She leaned inwards, her face very close to the cat. Her jaws parted wide. She showed off the maw in its full glory. The tongue gently pulsed as it adjusted to the open air, the gaping throat flexed, each pulse of muscles urging forward, deeper into her digestive tract. “Ahhhh, you’d make a good little friend Ethan, but judging by how things are going, you’ll end up in me eventually. Seems a waste to eat up someone just after a manicure.” Ethan blushed at the sight, squirming in place as the forked tongue reached out, gently stroking at his cheek with one of it’s prongs. Ester’s breath was intense, it’s heat empowered by the hot ramen she had devoured, the odors smelling thick of fish, something that pulled him even closer to her stomach. She reached out to pick up Ethan, sitting back up and letting him relax on her palm, looking at the ever flexing flesh within. “How about you climb inside kitty cat? Can you at least give me a taste in case I don’t end up gulping you down?” His blush grew more intense and the cat decided to comply. He crawled from the tip palm, his hands sinking into the soft flesh of Ester’s maw as he eased himself in. Ester didn’t want to rush things, even though the soft, chocolate flavors that Ethan gave off tasted wonderful after such a filling lunch. She let him settle down inside, soon the tongue retracting with a wet squelch, and the jaws coming together. Ethan laid there, in between the soft and powerful tongue, and the rough rigid palette. He was inside a mouth! He panted, almost excited but still a little nervous. It was then that he noticed the heat in there. He moaned, squirming as he could feel himself begin to melt down atop Ester’s tongue, his chocolate body not holding up to the heat in there. It was slow of course, he would have had to sit for a very long time in here to get melted. The tongue shifted, spreading his chocolate flavor over it. Ethan gasped, rolling and squelching along among globs of alien spit. He lost himself in the flurry of the tongue’s movements, disoriented by its constant flexing and the sound of wet flesh. This went on for a few moments before he finally found some pause, and Ester began to speak around him. “So Ethan. Shall you treat a girl to dessert?” Ethan would pant, his body tired from his ordeal, yet inside he was yearning for more, he wanted it to happen, despite his nervousness. He looked around the maw, seeing streaks of gooey melted chocolate floating about in the spittle, a stark contrast to the bright glowing environment of the maw itself. It urged him to stay. So he swallowed, and nodded softly, speaking even softer. “I want you to eat me.” The tongue shook as Ester spoke once more. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you sliding around in there.” “I want you to eat me- oh crap!” The tongue surged again, almost giddy at Ethan’s response. Ester chuckled nodding and showing appreciation to Ethan. “Mmhhh and what a fine dessert you’ve given me Ethan! Don’t worry truffle, you’ll love every second of this.” The tongue surged backwards, and Ethan realized he was being swallowed, he watched as the flesh pulsed around him, ushering his body with ease down the neck of the turian, sliding towards her stomach. Ester let out a long sigh, satisfied with her conquest of yet another prey. She let out her own purr, reaching down to stroke at her belly as Ethan entered inside. Ester chuckled, standing up from her seat and paying her bill for lunch. “Later nerd.~” .... Deep within the turian, Ethan splattered atop a pile of loose noodles, chewed vegetables, fish and rice. It was safe to say her stomach was a messy place. Ethan had every little detail of it lit up by the glowing organ around him, the fact that he would watch his own digestion was not lost on him. Ethan simply laid there, looking around the hot and steamy stomach. Idly, his tail flicked about, soaked and caked in the slimy mush that surrounded him. His legs became entangled in noodles that floated around within the mess. He was lucky he was so small. If he were larger, he might sink beneath the massive pile of food, though as the stomach contracted, a small pool of the liquid substances would wash over him, making him shudder yet again. He then felt everything shift, the stomach swaying as Ester got up and resumed her day, as if she didn’t currently have someone residing in her stomach. Ethan raised a hand, looking at it as it slowly melted, brown globs dribbling off his hand. Many had melted down inside this stomach, he could tell by the powerful scent alone. But he was probably the first to melt simply because it was too hot in there. He sniffed at the air, smelling thick of seafood, a welcome and comforting thing to a cat. He rolled onto his back, feeling the mess squelch and squeeze under him. Ethan looked over to the bend of the stomach, watching the powerful muscle compress over a large, round thing that Ester had evidently swallowed whole. It squelched, falling apart and mixing into the rest of the food at the constant, organic churning motions within her. Half an hour had passed, and Ethan was exhausted. The effects of digestion were taking its toll on his small fragile body. His own shirt was soaked in melted chocolate as well as the stomach chyme that surrounded him. It was all starting to fall apart, and the head was getting to be too much. Suddenly, a harsh, cold splash washed over him after he heard some faint swallows above. He yelped, glancing around before the voice above clarified what was happening. “Hope this will help you cool off down there snack.” Ester said casually, swirling her cold glass of ice water. She took another sip, causing another torrent to crash down inside the stomach, soaking the mush around Ethan. He sank into it a little bit as the stomach churned powerfully, groaning happily at the meal it was working down. Despite all these unpleasantries, Ethan had to admit, he was enjoying this more than he’d ever say aloud. … Ester felt the small fluttering motions of the chocolate cat inside her stomach slow down as the hours passed, eventually not even noticing that she couldn’t feel them at all. At that point, he was brown goo, sloshing and being mixed completely in the mess of food within Ester. The turian wasn’t paying attention. She was lazing about on her couch, watching a movie solely in her underwear and a tank top. She crunched on turian popcorn, sending it to splash down in her stomach in what was left of Ethan, casually enjoying the outside world while her body finished processing her potential friend. She hummed quietly to herself. Indeed, it was a good day today. She’d have to find more people composed of chocolate like that, maybe keep this one around longer. __________________________ More Ester vore! Hey guys I'm glad I've been managing to get back into writing again, and this time its a sort of semi-gift/continuation of the thing that @furryandvorestuff made for me a while back. He's an awesome artist and a great guy, so when I was motivated to write something up, I wanted to make that pic into a story. Here it is for your viewing pleasure! In it we have the all to beautiful turian lady seducing yet another hapless micro down into her gut. The whole affair is enhanced by the fact that he's a cat completely made of chocolate. Naturally this isn't canon for either of them a.) Because people made of chocolate in the ME universe is biologically impossible. b.) Ethan is very much not digested. (spoilers?) Here is a link to the original pic that this story is based off of. 

http://furryandvorestuff.tumblr.com/post/161486493922/quick-sketch-commission-for-commanderleifn7

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Happy Together : 13

In the Cage

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The reader is left in the dark.

Notes: So, our reader is in big shit and now she must suffer. And we must suffer with her. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I can’t wait for what’s still coming! 

I also want to thank everyone for following this series and their enthusiasm about it. It’s just amazing and I am so astounded that so many feel the same excitement I do for Wednesdays. I really just can’t believe it. You guys are wonderful and I owe you so much!

I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

-

The light stung your eyes. You had spent so long in darkness that when the bulb lit up and set ablaze the small room, you buried your head beneath the blanket. It had been only a day, maybe. If you were to guess by your hunger, it had been longer. You spent your first few hours on the floor in shock. When the pain in your ass and thighs became unbearable, you moved to the bed. You laid on your stomach and wept. Between your tears, there were spurts of sleep. Troubled and unkind.

It was another few hours before you heard the lock. The hatch opened and Steve’s shoes appeared on the top stair. He climbed down silently, a plastic tray in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He placed them on the floor beside your bed without speaking; without looking at you. You watched as he left; his feet heavy on the steps and the door shut with an echoing slam. 

You stared down at the microwaved meal. It looked wholly unappetizing but you were starving. You gulped back the glass of water and took the plastic fork and dug into the overdone pasta. You didn’t care that the noodles were chewy or that the sauce was acidic. Your stomach clutched and clamped in relief. You refilled the glass from the sink and drained it once more.

You laid on your stomach as the food settled. Your ass was still raw. Just moving caused your flesh to sear. You fell asleep again. This time deeper. Without your hunger to keep you awake, you sank into a heavy slumber. Your head swirled with visions of Steve; his blue eyes furious, his hand around your throat. Your descent into the hidden room as you fought against the chains pulling you down. The last two days melded together in a distorted nightmare.

You awoke with a start. You lifted your head from the thin mattress. There was no pillow, only a thin blanket which did not offer much warmth in the underground chill. The plastic tray was gone, but the glass remained, a pitcher of water now beside it. You climbed out of the bed with a groan. Your head pounded and your body was cramped. You stretched and filled the glass; this time you only sipped.

You went to the sink and cranked it on. You removed your bra and panties and did your best to wash yourself. You turned your underwear inside out as you pulled them back on. Steve’s cum had turned the fabric crusty. As you twisted the faucet off, the light died and the room turned black. You felt your way through the dark back to the bed. You laid on your side and exhaled with a shudder. You hadn’t thought it could get worse but now you longed for the constricting dresses and tedious chores.

A sudden whir and rush of air funneled into the room. There was a small vent just above the bed. It blasted a chill into the room. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and shivered. The bluster did not relent. You curled up on the bed and hugged your knees to your chest. He was just torturing you now. You whined and closed your eyes. It hadn’t even been two days. You weren’t going to make it. You couldn’t.

-

You counted the days by the flicker of the light bulb. It would turn on and you would take note of another morning. What was this? Day ten? Eleven? Close enough. After the bulb flicked on, it would only be a few minutes before Steve arrived with your breakfast. Two hard boiled eggs and toast. A glass of milk, too. He came and went without a word; without a glance. Your time was left empty; listless. You would pace, hum, talk to the walls. Do anything to distract yourself from the endless void. 

He would come again in the evening. Then, he left some microwaved dinner or a bowl of canned soup. Water for this meal. You would only have a little time before the pitch black marked the end of the day. When he returned in the morning, he would take the empty dishes and replace them with the next meal. Food became your only solace and yet there was not enough of it. 

The nights were cold. The vent would rattle and the cold air would seep into the room; into your bones. You spent most of the night shaking beneath the thin wool. Sleep was not so easy anymore. You would stare into the black and listen. Sometimes you could hear him; walking around the bedroom or in the shower. The faint pitter of water made you think of the rain. The eerie calm of childhood thunderstorms. When you thought of the world outside, you couldn’t help but cry; often without meaning to. Your world had been set afloat in an ocean of tears.

That night, you didn’t eat the lukewarm soup. You stared into the depths and your stomach churned. You were hungry but nauseous. You couldn’t will yourself to eat even as you felt the familiar pangs. You dumped the chicken broth and noodles into the toilet and flushed. You sat back against the side of the bed, your legs sprawled along the floor. You hung your head and gulped. Your head ached from your spontaneous bursts of despair. You weren’t going to cry again.

The sparkle along your finger caught your eye. You held up your hand to the light; the pink diamond caught the yellow glare and twinkled. You scowled at the stone and ripped it past your knuckle. Your held it up and a surge of anger took you. That came as often as the sadness. These fits were harder to quell. There was no relief for them. You pondered tossing the band down the drain; you were tempted.

You shook your head and the fury slaked away as quickly as it had rose. You dropped the ring into the bowl and dragged yourself from the floor. He could have it back. You didn’t want it. You had never wanted it. You climbed into bed and only minutes after, the light bulb went black. Your timing was getting better. The air shuddered on and you cocooned yourself in the blanket. 

You heard the creak of the bed above. The one you used to share with Steve. It was almost right above your own. It was quiet for a few minutes; you were tired even. Close to dozing. Then you heard the deep groan. It wasn’t unusual. The last few nights it had become a ritual. Steve made no effort to mute his voice. You knew what he was doing. You had heard him before in the shower, only these days, he did not say your name. That was how you knew he was mad. Really mad.

You clamped your hands over your ears and tried to tune it out. It made you feel so gross. Not because of what he was doing; he was human, but because what it made you want to do. So long below, alone, cold; you were desperate for warmth, for the touch of another. The noise of his pleasure made you ache. You didn’t want him, but you wanted someone. Anyone. And that was frightening.

What would happen in another week? Would you have any strength left to you? Would you survive this? With each day, you became more convinced that you would never see beyond this room again. That was when the darkness grew startling. It closed in on you; its fingers around your throat; a weight upon your chest. The beast clawing at your flesh.

Steve cried out and you were drawn back to your reality. Your thighs were pressed together around your hand. You bit your lip as you squeezed your legs together and the vent blew down on you frigidly. You whined tore your hand out from between your thighs. You didn’t even remember uncovering your ear. You couldn’t remember much of anything. There was only the light bulb, the empty trays, and stifling darkness.

-

The next morning, the light buzzed as it turned on. You turned so that your back was to the room and you heard the hatch unlock. Steve’s footsteps filled the room. You heard him set down a plate and gather up the bowl from the night before. The clink of your ring bounced against the glass. Silence. You felt a subtle shift on the mattress behind you but did not look. You couldn’t look at him anymore.

You sensed his eyes on you but still you did not turn around. You pulled the blanket higher and nestled closer to the wall. You were certain it was all in your head. He wasn’t looking at you. You were nothing to him anymore. You would perish in this place. Finally, his footsteps began again, the stairs groaned below him, and the hatch closed. You were alone. Again. Always.

You rolled over as the smell of bacon tickled your stomach. Bacon? He hadn’t brought anything more than boiled eggs or bland porridge. You salivated as you reached over the side of the bed and grabbed a strip. Something hard pressed into your cheek as you leaned into the mattress. You sat up and took a bite as you picked up the sharp object. It was the ring. Steve had left it just beside your head. He wouldn’t take it back. You were almost relieved.

You crammed the rest of the bacon in your mouth and slid down onto the floor. You shoved your finger through the ring until it was firmly in place. You took one of the eggs and began to peel the shell as you chewed the crispy bacon. You noticed then the glass of orange juice. Usually, he brought milk but today, he had been generous. You would thank him when he came again. It was only polite.

-

It was two days before you worked up the nerve. You were afraid to break the silence. Afraid you would anger him again. Or more. You didn’t blame him for being mad. You had stolen from him; destroyed his property; run away. That had been wrong. After everything he had done for you. Sat in just your soiled underwear, it became plain that you had not appreciated his kindness. The clothes, the records, the house...you had been ungrateful.

You were waiting on your dinner. Your legs hurt from pacing but when you sat, they shook in anticipation. You rinsed your plate and glass, and stacked them neatly with the cutlery. You were at the bottom of the steps when the hatch opened. You retreated in fright and backed up to the wall. You watched as Steve’s shoes appeared at the top of the stairs. As he descended, you admired his long legs, lean torso, and muscled arms. His golden hair was neatly combed and his blue eyes clung to the dishes in his hands.

You pressed yourself to the wall as he neared to set down your meal. As he bent down, you knelt and lifted the empty dishes. His jaw clenched as he looked at them and he stood as you mirrored his movements. You held them out and smiled. Or tried to. “Thank you, sweetheart,” You said breathily.

His blue eyes burned into your hands. You could tell he was struggling not to look at your face, but he couldn’t help as his gaze strayed to your chest, then your stomach, and below. He exhaled deeply and took the dishes without an answer. You were trembling as he turned his back to you and marched back up the stairs. The hatch closed and you let out a pathetic sob. You sank to your knees and stared down at the macaroni. You pushed away the plate as you sat back on your heels and slumped against the wall. You were going to die down here.

-

That night you couldn’t sleep. Really, any night, but you couldn’t even lay down. Even after the bulb had flickered to black, you had paced around the small space. You didn’t care that you stubbed your toe or bumped your knee. You couldn’t stay still. You had to get out. There was a panic in you which you had never felt before. The feeling when you know it’s the end and there’s no going back. An inevitability come to pass.

You fell against the stairs as your shins met the bottom step. You looked up at the hatch. Slivers of the light above limned its border. Slowly, carefully, with the thought of throwing yourself back down them, you climbed the stairs on your knees. You couldn’t hear Steve but you knew by the light that he was still awake. Like you. He was sleepless too. Was it for the same reason?

You tap on the door. No answer. You knocked again, louder. You heard the bed creak but no footsteps. You pressed your palm to the wood and sighed. “Steve,” You said. Your voice was thick as your throat closed with the threat of tears. You cleared your throat and forced yourself to speak louder. “Steve, sweetheart. Please…” You got as close to the hatch as you could. “I--I’m sorry.”

You waited. Silence. Everyday silence. It was driving you mad. You would rather death than this endless hush. You banged with your fist and exclaimed.

“You can’t leave me down here!” You pleaded. “Sweetheart, please. I can’t---I-I-I…” You sucked back a sob and hung your head. “I need you. Please.” You sniffed as tears trickled down your nose. “Don’t you love me, sweetheart?” You called to him. “I thought you loved me.” You leaned against the step and wiped your eyes. You didn’t hear anything. “...I love you.”

The hatch opened suddenly. You looked up into the blinding light as it silhouetted Steve’s broad shoulders. His golden hair shone like a beacon and his blue eyes burned fiercely as he looked down at you. You waited with baited breath for him to pull you out or push you back down.

+

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[vg11k]

Fire and Blood - 1

The wagon was moving calmly along the river. The team was not in a hurry to get the passengers talking to each other. Two young men stood in the front of the car, keeping an eye on the monotonous road. In the shadow of the tarpaulin at the back, an older, thicker man kept passing a rag over his gun with his heels touching the dust. After a while, he lifted her up above his head and gazed at her in a ray of light. The mighty war hammer sparkled. Satisfied, the man in bure delicately put it inside, at the feet of a fourth man. He looked at her with great respect, before turning to the blue sky at the end of the afternoon.

Snoring was coming up from under the fourth man's imposing hat. Despite the fine weather of late autumn, he had kept his ample coat, his arms crossed, disappearing inside. The jolt of a bad stone shook the hammer which touched his thick studded boots. Crystalline tinnitus erupted from the crates on either side of the sleeper.

John is still sleeping, said the man cheerfully following the wagon.

Raising his head, the bald priest gave him back his smile. Few things could pull John Grenaille out of his sleep. Few things have been omitted from its obligations, as both of them had already noted on numerous occasions. Rare were the men who had practiced his profession so long and so enthusiastically. John had been a repudiator since he was nine years old.

He can sleep after the life he made in Nuln! cried one of the soldiers, also walking behind him, at the head of the fortnight's head.

The first one laughed and approved. John had animated one of the city's largest inns until after sunrise, seemingly tireless, always dancing, courting or singing. And yet he had achieved the impossible the day before. Without the man in the adventurer's hat, the twenty or so people in the procession would have perished in the sewers of the city. He was the one who had killed the master mutator, the abominations puffed up suddenly destabilized by the disappearance of their pack leader. The vermin would still have been a real scourge for merchants for a long time, piercing their cellars and seizing their possessions as well as their servants...

Tristofan Tisseron wore a white and gold tabard, embroidered with scarlet flames attesting to his status. He was a magus of fire. His beard, constantly brownish, contrasted with the thick red hair that grew in disorder on his skull and sparkling green eyes. Her bare arms were covered with freckles, whose skin stuck to her muscles revealed her regular excess in magic manipulation. Nevertheless, he advanced vigorously among the soldiers, holding his stick firmly and firmly.

They had now been warned of increasing disappearances in the city of Grissenwald two days ago. They immediately set off, flanked by Dave and Leon, the two apprentices of the repurgator, and accompanied by Brother Brandit. To them five they had already carried out more than fifteen interventions through the empire, relentlessly tracking down the servants of ruin, the Skavens or any other vermin.

A little less than twenty soldiers followed, with their metal armour rattling as they walked. They had heard about their problems with the solved skavens at the same time as the Grissenwald incident group. They were delighted to learn that John had decided to visit the scene of the incident. But surprised that he told them that if the soldiers wanted his help, they would have to move at his own pace, which means at the speed of a mule. Preferring to count on his support, Corporal Rechald had given up their mounts. At least they didn't carry the majority of their food and sleeping accommodations, which were currently used as mattresses and pillows.

*

With her eyes soaked in tears, she begged the individual to let her go. Her long, brown hair was glued to her cheeks and her naked body by croupy water. She suffocated for a moment. Her gag prevented her from stirring her jaw completely.

Lying on the cold ground, she could only contemplate the other three women slowly bleeding to death. A bloody furrow was traced on each of their throats, yet they were still alive. The trachea and esophagus had not been severed. Nevertheless, they remained immobile, paralyzed by magic. She saw the creature leaning towards the nearest one, observing it carefully. He totally ignored the naked, slender body dripping with hemoglobin, and stretched a emaciated finger towards the bloody cut.

The fourth woman shouted a stifled cry as he slipped his finger into the wound of his immobile victim, the skin waving as he stroked the inside of the flesh. Slowly he took it off and carried it to his lips. For a moment he seemed to study her taste like a winegrower of a great vintage, the vague glance. Slowly, a smile stretched over his light grey face, revealing his yellowish, prominent canines. Slowly he leaned over the poor woman whose gag had been removed. His crackled lips rested on those, red and fleshy, of the throat.

She was a witness despite herself of this long kiss in the light of the torches. The fluids of the first three victims flowed on their kneeling bodies, criss-crossing between their breasts and dripping from their thighs in furrows dug into the stone. These formed a perfect circle in which the dark liquid flowed, before going into a central basin where it gradually accumulated. A crackling sound made the woman startle, fascinated by this morbid kiss. A horror thrill roamed her as she watched the creature straighten up. The woman turned forward, her gaze stuck in the survivor's eye while her paralyzed jaw remained wide open. A new flood of blood flowed through her thick broth as she tried to loosen her ties, screaming in spite of her gag.

There is no doubt that it is the tastiest of the three,"said the individual, chewing slowly. From the point of view of experience as well as nectar. And you, sweetheart, what do you have to offer me?

He swallowed his victim's severed tongue by turning to the last woman still screaming. A big smile spread over his red smudged face.

As I wish I could read in the past, whispered the man as he contemplated the ceremony with an envious gaze. How pleasant it must be !

Master Scleras will soon give us his kiss, said the smiling blonde woman in a low voice.

She still held the seal of water with which she had awakened the other brunette in her hand. Carefully tracking every move of the vampire, she leaned her head aside, calculating. How she admired the grace with which he manipulated the emotions of each of them.

Castille herself had coated the dagger of her master with paralytic poison. She knew her effects perfectly well. The other three women were fully aware of what they were going through. Better still, she felt with increased perception every sound, every caress and every dash of pain. And yet, the substance forbade them from moving. They were no longer even able to blink eyelids to moisturize the apples in their eyes. Each had an open throat from which an irregular stream of hemoglobin came out, ejected by the painstaking beating of their hearts.

At his side, Morisburg was fascinated. The envy was so powerful in his eyes that he could have illuminated the room. Entirely dressed in black cloth, his outfit contrasted with his neighbour's light white dress, whose bare feet were stained with clay. Where she was excited, the fabric bounced over her knees, he was totally motionless. As if he had cut himself on the dagger of Master Scleras. Dagger that drew a new scarlet line in a muffled cry.

*

You say that each of the forty-three missing were under the age of thirty-five? Leon asked Leon, observing carefully the innkeeper's expressions.

Next to him, Dave wrote down every word on a notebook, his hand constantly moving.

Yup, even though the old Baster was found dead the day after his daughter disappeared, approved the man with the imposing belly.

Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary, a detail, an object that was not in its place, a wound, a missing jewel?

Well, everything was locked in their house and we didn't notice anything broken or missing, said the innkeeper, scratching his stomach and frowning. But old Baster... he had an expression...

The man had a heart that did not escape the eye of the apprentice.

An expression...? he urged him to continue, Dave looking up from his notebook.

It was as if the devil had taken his daughter away, he whispered quickly as he pressed his thumb against his forehead. I've never seen anyone with a face like that before, and yet I've seen some pretty good weirdos in twenty years in this hostel. But I'll tell you myself, he added, leaning towards a conspiratorial air. I'll tell you who killed him. It's not that hard to make wine. Old Baster... he's scared to death. Something that scared him so much that his heart gave out...

The two boys exchanged an anxious gaze. His testimony concurred with that of a woman at the wash-house at the entrance to the city and a baker three alleyways further on, which was not reassuring...

I mean, Mr. Grenaille, couldn't it wait till morning? complained Simon, a local soldier. You've only been there two hours, and I'm going to...

Soon finish your service I know yes, cut the man with the hat, inspecting the door lock of the entrance door by the light of a torch. You'll tell the next victim's parents that.

The man sighed. The repurgator had come to interrupt him at his post in the middle of dinner, posing a red mullet in his place. "You're from here," he argued. And he said that he was probably safer at his side than alone at the end of the bridge or in a prostitute's diaper. John came in and lifted his torch to inspect the room.

Did you move anything? he asked.

We pushed the table and a few chairs to get the body out of the old Baster, he says. Nothing good...

How many people came in ? cut John off.

Boarf, no more than ten.

He kept quiet by quickly sweeping the room. There was nothing left to get out of this place.

You all went up to Baster and his daughter's rooms, I guess.

Uh, uh....

I see.

They went upstairs. Just as in the lobby, he did not dwell on the beds or chests of drawers that too many people had obviously moved. On the other hand, he inspected the doors at length.

But what exactly are you looking for ? the soldier was surprised.

Did you tell me that Baster was found lying dead on his daughter's bedroom door? Ignorah John turned to the window of the room in question.

Yeah.

Has anyone touched that window?

Uh, not that I know of, why?

Look at this.

Simon leaned forward and examined the glass that John had pointed to him. There was a wedge on the ledge so that the window did not open violently during draughts and could break. He gazed at his reflection in the torchlight for a few seconds before turning to the repellent.

Yes and?

John sighed and pointed his index finger at a specific point on the tile.

Look at this much.

He gave him a few seconds to examine it more closely. The soldier finally noticed that a more translucent circle was visible on the glass.

Somebody rubbed the dust? So what?

So here's the subtlety.

John wiped the window with his sleeve.

I really don't see what...

He stopped when the repellent removed his arm. The circle was still visible. Simon frowned. John carefully opened the window. The door opened inwards, and then jammed at an angle close to 45° with the wall, blocked by the wedge. He remained impassive and had to stretch out his arm to be able to touch the dirt on the glass at the same level as the clean circle.

Someone wiped this window from the outside, John said with an insured tone. Moreover, there are no shutters.

Impossible, look at the height and texture of the wall, protested the soldier.

Performing, John leaned over. They were almost four metres high and the wall was virgin plaster.

Brother Brandit, over here! He calls in the night.

Did any of you pass under that window? The repurgator questioned, showing the opening to the garden, while Simon shook his head negatively.

A torch appeared beneath them. Its brightness was reflected on the priest's smooth skull and the head of his heavy hammer, hanging on his back.

See if there's any ladder marks, we're going down.

They quickly joined him, the priest inspecting the grass arriving at half calves.

What's up?

No trace, Brandit commented with a hard look. On the other hand, I found this in the grass.

He raised his free hand and showed them his find. The soldier blurred as John's eyelids were strangled. These were three human phalanges.

*

On the eastward bank four silhouettes stood up, observing from afar the gleams of the sleepy city. Three of them had thick armour with dull reflections under the moon. The fourth one had him only a leather cuirasse. Sheaths hung from the belts of each of them. The glowing light of their eyes pierced the semi-darkness.

Can you smell the web ? asked the first one, the others nodding in silence. We are not alone in the region.

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[apsbicepstraining]

Can You Lose 8 Pounds?

This peculiarity compels JavaScript to function.

Hello. If youre learn this right now, its because you want to make a change. Youre here because youve always been huge, but now your largeness has already become revolt. You are here because God has cursed you with a flabby paunch, and you dislike the style it rebounds and oozes.

You are here, candidly, because you have nowhere else to turn.

I want to take control of my life.

I want to die a lonely, ruined person who is full of bitternes because I never took community initiatives.

Yes! The first step to succumbing a lonely, broken person who is full of regret is admitting to yourself that you want to die a lonely, busted person who is full of bitternes. Today is the day you embark on that footpath. Disappear out in the world, get down this computer, and hug the darkness.

Start Over

Incredible. Its time to begin anew! Its duration for a brand-new, less fleshy assembly. To start, take a good, hard look at yourself. Thisthis is you now.

Okay.

And this was youthis was you 8 glorious pounds ago.

Oh, wow.

No, its not.

Look, denial is a sign of weakness. Seem into your own sees. If youre going to make a change, you must accept that this perfect, chiseled muscle domain used to be yours.

I countenanced myself.

Yes! The actuality is, “you think youre” 8 pounds away from true-life joy. Your brand-new, lip-smacking person is almost within reach, but only if you vow worked very hard to and systematically destroy every inch of your old-time soul. So, how would you like to lose 8 pounds?

Exercise and borrow a healthy diet.

Take a dietary supplement.

Hurt my figure with the influenza!

I do not want to lose 8 pounds, because I am an idiot.

-Aha! You seem to be a stupid person who does not want to lose 8 pounds. Well, beneath that additional load is a beautiful and muscular Adonis just waiting to kill the old-fashioned you.

So, how will you get gushed for your total 8-pound makeover?

Check out some weight-loss message boards.

Look at your fantastically scrawny girlfriend.

Remember the days when you werent 8 pounds heavier.

You decide to log onto lard.edu, your favorite bodybuilding health resource.

Log onto lard.com and speak some testimonials.

Log onto lad.com and look at porn.

Incredible. Lad.com is unfortunately best available website on the internet. While the actors svelte forms did in fact see you want to lose 8 pounds, you were so drawn to the red-hot, attractive copulation that you didnt leave your computer for hours. Instead, you gained 2 pounds from sitting and neglected! Whoops.

Log onto the computer again.

Try another weight-loss method.

Start Over

You go to the testimonials section. Yes, this is the stuff you need.

Comment I WANT TO CHANGE MY LIFE.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

You retain scrolling. Its incredible.

Comment THIS IS RELATABLE TO ME.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

Great, youre motivated! Now gives lose those pounds!

Comment PLEASE SEND DETAILS ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH YOUR BROTHER.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

Hi, lover, says your scrawny lover, ogling you up and down. I heard you are trying to lose 8 pounds. Hey, we should engage in the primal ordinance of sexits great for losing 8 pounds.

Yes, satisfy!

No thanks.

Actually, just kidding, she adds. Sex is for people who have lost 8 pounds. Well have sex when youve lost 8 pounds.

Okay.

Oh, okay, thats penalty, I understand, she supposes. I will break up with you then! Makes have sex when youve lost 8 pounds.

Okay.

Ah, the days when you were 8 pounds lighter and the world was brighter…the days when all your breathes were unfathomably loose….

Yes, I remember…

I do not remember that.

The dates when you deemed an apple in your hands at all times and smiled…when you wore a tape measure around your waist as jewelry….

Ah, yes…

Still I do not remember…

The dates when your family was still alive….

I remember…my God….

I am ready to lose 8 poundsI swear it.

Ah, the flu! An superb choice. The influenza is the worlds No. 1 sicknes for inducing pounds and pounds of liquid secretion. How would you like to get a slimming, fat-burning sprain of the flu today?

Lick the hands of this flu seasons patient zero.

Ask the hospital for their exploited needles and then jump in a accumulation of them.

Go to the doctor and implore for the most slimming flu he has.

Incredible! You got the flu. The good word is that youre now sicker than youve ever seen, and 3 pounds of liquids “ve already” secreted from your loopholes! The bad news is that your person stands swollen and unsightly. What do you do now?

Go to the doctor and implore for a worse disease.

Continue trying to lose weight with this potentially inept flu.

Great choice! You go to the doctor and entreat for the influenza, best available weight-loss program in the world.

Oh, God, only look at youyou urgently need to lose 8 pounds, does the doctor. I could give you the flu, or I could give you a more extreme weight-loss procedure Ive been working on.

Ask him for the flu.

Ask him for the revolutionary medical procedure.

Great choiceIve been meaning to commit a fun felony and finally play-act this weight-loss procedure on someone, he replies, laying you down. Im going to applied this monkey soul in you and just see what happens with your 8 pounds. How does that voice?

Yes, satisfy, I want to be slim! Make me that monkey heart.

No thanks, Ill take the skinny cancer instead!

While lying lifelessly next to the toilet, you try on your old breathes. Wow, they scarcely fit! Your lip may be parched and your eyes crusted closed, but if you took a shower, youd be 10 days hotter than you were before!

So, how will you lose those remaining 5 pounds?

Keep having the flujust 5 more pounds!

Get some broth to suck on and to continue efforts to dry yourself.

Oh , no! You lost 5 pounds, and then 4 more pounds! The flu was unfortunately more effective, and you discontinued up losing 12 pounds total. You appear scrawny and disgusting, a merely skeleton of the hunk you once were. Maybe try gaining heavines, because right now youre a fitness disaster.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Well, you steamed some hot water over a moo-cow and made yourself some beef broth. But unfortunately, you got better, and you stopped losing load when you were only 2 pounds short of your goal! Sadly, it seems like youre still a blob-like fitness tragedy. Would you like to try another way?

Go back and try another way!

Great choice! You go to the doctor and sidestep for the most difficult, most infectious disease hes get. Perhaps malaria, if he has it.

Oh, Jesus, you urgently need to lose 8 pounds, reads the doctor. I could give you either a altogether untested infection I invented or a radical weight-loss procedure Ive been working on.

Ask him for the skinny disease.

Ask him for the revolutionary medical procedure.

This disease progressed from monkey DNA, but dont perturb, its not AIDS, says your doctor. Hopefully, itll get those 5 standing pounds off!

Sprout hair from every limb.

Pick up a lodge and begin trying to jab it into numerous punctures in the office to look for bugs.

The results are great at first! You eat a healthy, clean nutrition of maggots and vegetation, and almost instantly embarked wincing. Unfortunately, you became more being than monkey, and while your skeleton was contracting into the exact size of a primate, you lost 25 additional pounds. Looks like youll have to try again if you want to lose precisely 8.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Congrats! You now have a monkey heart, which is already 2 pounds lighter than a human nerve. And holy moo-cow, you examine hotbut you feel even hotter. How will you lose those last-place 3 pounds?

By eating chows and vegetation.

By mistaking a squirrel for a potential teammate and trying to persuasion it.

Mmm, beautiful. Mating with a squirrel can burn up to 500 calories in an hour. How will you follow?

Seduce it.

Pass for now and chew some grubs.

You did it! You lost 8 pounds! Its uncertain whether you lost the weight from your brand-new relationship or due to the fact that monkey souls beat 10 meters faster than those of human rights, but no matter! Youre a perfect 8 pounds lighter now, healthy and hot as is also possible. Well done!

Start Over

Great! Seeming hungry, you leave the hospital and see this: a delicious chow! Mmm…what would you like to do?

Eat the grub.

Go for the squirrel instead.

Well, “youve lost” heavines, but you lost too much. This grub was high-flown in protein and low-grade in fat, but its high poison material likewise killed you, developing in too much weight loss( 15 pounds too many !). Next time, try losing less, because this ended up with you looking like a terrifying skeleton creature.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Excellent! Youve chosen to try to lose weight through both rehearsal and a healthy nutrition! But makes be real, large-scale guyyou can probably simply manage doing one of those at a time. Which one would you preferably do?

Exercise.

Diet.

Great! Effort, the brutality we set our figures through in order to look sex. How would you like to start employing today?

Join a gym.

Get a personal trainer.

Try meditating, if that is technically exercise.

Perfect. This is Quinn, your personal trainer.

You will never lose 8 pounds, says your Quinn.

Yes, Quinn, I know.

Sure, youre quiet or some shit for 25 minutes. Fucking cool-ass theme to sit on the storey to employ. Your heavines remains exactly the same. Who attends?

Get up, loser.

Ah, the gym! Therefore welcomed 24 -Hour Muscle Hell, the gym in your metropolitan that you can render! Its adage is You Will Lose 8 Pound Here, so things are finally examining up. What part of the gym would you like to start in?

The weights section.

The cardio section.

The Zumba studio.

The locker room section!

Yes, the heaviness area. The area of the gym that makes your flesh sing in pain! Time to sculpt a brand-new, lighter self from your old, heavier soul!

You look at the coach, who sides you two large metal devices. How will you follow?

Ask for a spotter.

Try to find people form to lift.

We can recognize you, say the strongest people in the gym, grabbing each of your barbells. With our help, youll be able to raise without cracking your sticker in half, and youll lose those 8 poundsguaranteed.

Lift heaviness with them.

Go back to the gym and try something else.

Each of them grabs one of your weights and embarks lifting it on their own. You try to grab on, but they both remark, No, dont contact. Were spotting you , not the other way around.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

You can face-lift us up, say the strongest parties in the gym, ambling up to you with their taut forms on display. If you lift us up, youll lose 8 pounds in no timethats a guarantee.

Lift them up.

Go back to the gym and try something else.

You try and try to lift them up. Were heavy, merely swollen with strong muscle tissue, they bellow each time “youre just trying to” lift them up. Hoisting two heavy beings is just the first step to changing their own lives!

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Yes, the cardio slouse. The area of the gym that becomes your middle explode!

Help me, suggests the cardio trainer. The gym has been downloading my muscles through these cables for years.

How will you continue?

Find somebody to chase on the treadmill.

Find somebody to pursue you on the treadmill.

The cardio trainer tries to build opening on the treadmill in order to be allowed to chase him, but suddenly, the gyms general manager comes up and starts touching his electric nipples.

More downloadingweve nearly replenished the mainframe with muscle, she responds. This being can lose 8 pounds later.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no heavines. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

The cardio trainer tries to constitute cavity on the treadmill so he can chase you, but suddenly, the gyms general manager comes up and starts touching his electric nipples.

More downloadingweve virtually replenished the mainframe with muscle, she adds. This soldier can lose 8 pounds later.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no weight. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Zumba it is! You walk into the studio, bloated with your 8 additional pounds still lodged deep under your skin.

Kill, your Zumba dojos yell in unison. Kill the man who is slightly heavier than he used to be.

How do you follow?

Fight your dojos.

Surrender to your dojos.

You have chosen to fight your Zumba dojos.

Zumba is a great way to shed additional weight, they wail one by one.

How would you like to fight your antagonists?

Sit on them one by one.

Break a brick in front of them.

Straight up roundhouse-kick them.

Your additional load throws off your aerodynamics a bit, and you end up piercing a pit through the wall.

Okay, sure, they say, bowing. You overcame us. Heres a Zumba belt for all your troubles.

Unfortunately, Zumba is a dance that is mostly self-defense, so it really doesnt concern too much push. As a upshot, you lost no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

You have chosen to surrender to your dojos. You are weak and will never lose 8 pounds, they yell one by one.

How would you like to surrender to your opponents?

Lie on the soil and shriek I continue heavy.

Hit your chief against the stack of ruin committees, but not so difficult that it does any damage.

Okay, sure, “theyre saying”, bowing. Youve emphatically have confirmed that you dont belong here. Heres a Zumba belt for all your troubles.

Unfortunately, Zumba is a dance that is mostly self-defense, it was therefore certainly doesnt involve too much gesture. As a result, “youve lost” no heavines. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Welcome to the locker room, the premier plaza to lose 8 pounds, mentions this gentleman, the cupboard room manager. This is a 24 -hour gym, so Ill be here 24 hours today. Would you like to sign up for a two-hour session of sitting with me?

Do a two-hour session with this man.

Go back to the gym.

Leave the gym and try another weight-loss method.

Two hours pass. You sat well, but somehow you lost no weight.

Great job! he answers, patting you on the back. Would you like to stay for another two-hour session?

Do another two-hour session with this man.

Go back to the gym.

Leave the gym and try another weight-loss method.

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[apsbicepstraining]

Can You Lose 8 Pounds?

This peculiarity compels JavaScript to function.

Hello. If youre learn this right now, its because you want to make a change. Youre here because youve always been huge, but now your largeness has already become revolt. You are here because God has cursed you with a flabby paunch, and you dislike the style it rebounds and oozes.

You are here, candidly, because you have nowhere else to turn.

I want to take control of my life.

I want to die a lonely, ruined person who is full of bitternes because I never took community initiatives.

Yes! The first step to succumbing a lonely, broken person who is full of regret is admitting to yourself that you want to die a lonely, busted person who is full of bitternes. Today is the day you embark on that footpath. Disappear out in the world, get down this computer, and hug the darkness.

Start Over

Incredible. Its time to begin anew! Its duration for a brand-new, less fleshy assembly. To start, take a good, hard look at yourself. Thisthis is you now.

Okay.

And this was youthis was you 8 glorious pounds ago.

Oh, wow.

No, its not.

Look, denial is a sign of weakness. Seem into your own sees. If youre going to make a change, you must accept that this perfect, chiseled muscle domain used to be yours.

I countenanced myself.

Yes! The actuality is, “you think youre” 8 pounds away from true-life joy. Your brand-new, lip-smacking person is almost within reach, but only if you vow worked very hard to and systematically destroy every inch of your old-time soul. So, how would you like to lose 8 pounds?

Exercise and borrow a healthy diet.

Take a dietary supplement.

Hurt my figure with the influenza!

I do not want to lose 8 pounds, because I am an idiot.

-Aha! You seem to be a stupid person who does not want to lose 8 pounds. Well, beneath that additional load is a beautiful and muscular Adonis just waiting to kill the old-fashioned you.

So, how will you get gushed for your total 8-pound makeover?

Check out some weight-loss message boards.

Look at your fantastically scrawny girlfriend.

Remember the days when you werent 8 pounds heavier.

You decide to log onto lard.edu, your favorite bodybuilding health resource.

Log onto lard.com and speak some testimonials.

Log onto lad.com and look at porn.

Incredible. Lad.com is unfortunately best available website on the internet. While the actors svelte forms did in fact see you want to lose 8 pounds, you were so drawn to the red-hot, attractive copulation that you didnt leave your computer for hours. Instead, you gained 2 pounds from sitting and neglected! Whoops.

Log onto the computer again.

Try another weight-loss method.

Start Over

You go to the testimonials section. Yes, this is the stuff you need.

Comment I WANT TO CHANGE MY LIFE.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

You retain scrolling. Its incredible.

Comment THIS IS RELATABLE TO ME.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

Great, youre motivated! Now gives lose those pounds!

Comment PLEASE SEND DETAILS ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH YOUR BROTHER.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

Hi, lover, says your scrawny lover, ogling you up and down. I heard you are trying to lose 8 pounds. Hey, we should engage in the primal ordinance of sexits great for losing 8 pounds.

Yes, satisfy!

No thanks.

Actually, just kidding, she adds. Sex is for people who have lost 8 pounds. Well have sex when youve lost 8 pounds.

Okay.

Oh, okay, thats penalty, I understand, she supposes. I will break up with you then! Makes have sex when youve lost 8 pounds.

Okay.

Ah, the days when you were 8 pounds lighter and the world was brighter…the days when all your breathes were unfathomably loose….

Yes, I remember…

I do not remember that.

The dates when you deemed an apple in your hands at all times and smiled…when you wore a tape measure around your waist as jewelry….

Ah, yes…

Still I do not remember…

The dates when your family was still alive….

I remember…my God….

I am ready to lose 8 poundsI swear it.

Ah, the flu! An superb choice. The influenza is the worlds No. 1 sicknes for inducing pounds and pounds of liquid secretion. How would you like to get a slimming, fat-burning sprain of the flu today?

Lick the hands of this flu seasons patient zero.

Ask the hospital for their exploited needles and then jump in a accumulation of them.

Go to the doctor and implore for the most slimming flu he has.

Incredible! You got the flu. The good word is that youre now sicker than youve ever seen, and 3 pounds of liquids “ve already” secreted from your loopholes! The bad news is that your person stands swollen and unsightly. What do you do now?

Go to the doctor and implore for a worse disease.

Continue trying to lose weight with this potentially inept flu.

Great choice! You go to the doctor and entreat for the influenza, best available weight-loss program in the world.

Oh, God, only look at youyou urgently need to lose 8 pounds, does the doctor. I could give you the flu, or I could give you a more extreme weight-loss procedure Ive been working on.

Ask him for the flu.

Ask him for the revolutionary medical procedure.

Great choiceIve been meaning to commit a fun felony and finally play-act this weight-loss procedure on someone, he replies, laying you down. Im going to applied this monkey soul in you and just see what happens with your 8 pounds. How does that voice?

Yes, satisfy, I want to be slim! Make me that monkey heart.

No thanks, Ill take the skinny cancer instead!

While lying lifelessly next to the toilet, you try on your old breathes. Wow, they scarcely fit! Your lip may be parched and your eyes crusted closed, but if you took a shower, youd be 10 days hotter than you were before!

So, how will you lose those remaining 5 pounds?

Keep having the flujust 5 more pounds!

Get some broth to suck on and to continue efforts to dry yourself.

Oh , no! You lost 5 pounds, and then 4 more pounds! The flu was unfortunately more effective, and you discontinued up losing 12 pounds total. You appear scrawny and disgusting, a merely skeleton of the hunk you once were. Maybe try gaining heavines, because right now youre a fitness disaster.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Well, you steamed some hot water over a moo-cow and made yourself some beef broth. But unfortunately, you got better, and you stopped losing load when you were only 2 pounds short of your goal! Sadly, it seems like youre still a blob-like fitness tragedy. Would you like to try another way?

Go back and try another way!

Great choice! You go to the doctor and sidestep for the most difficult, most infectious disease hes get. Perhaps malaria, if he has it.

Oh, Jesus, you urgently need to lose 8 pounds, reads the doctor. I could give you either a altogether untested infection I invented or a radical weight-loss procedure Ive been working on.

Ask him for the skinny disease.

Ask him for the revolutionary medical procedure.

This disease progressed from monkey DNA, but dont perturb, its not AIDS, says your doctor. Hopefully, itll get those 5 standing pounds off!

Sprout hair from every limb.

Pick up a lodge and begin trying to jab it into numerous punctures in the office to look for bugs.

The results are great at first! You eat a healthy, clean nutrition of maggots and vegetation, and almost instantly embarked wincing. Unfortunately, you became more being than monkey, and while your skeleton was contracting into the exact size of a primate, you lost 25 additional pounds. Looks like youll have to try again if you want to lose precisely 8.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Congrats! You now have a monkey heart, which is already 2 pounds lighter than a human nerve. And holy moo-cow, you examine hotbut you feel even hotter. How will you lose those last-place 3 pounds?

By eating chows and vegetation.

By mistaking a squirrel for a potential teammate and trying to persuasion it.

Mmm, beautiful. Mating with a squirrel can burn up to 500 calories in an hour. How will you follow?

Seduce it.

Pass for now and chew some grubs.

You did it! You lost 8 pounds! Its uncertain whether you lost the weight from your brand-new relationship or due to the fact that monkey souls beat 10 meters faster than those of human rights, but no matter! Youre a perfect 8 pounds lighter now, healthy and hot as is also possible. Well done!

Start Over

Great! Seeming hungry, you leave the hospital and see this: a delicious chow! Mmm…what would you like to do?

Eat the grub.

Go for the squirrel instead.

Well, “youve lost” heavines, but you lost too much. This grub was high-flown in protein and low-grade in fat, but its high poison material likewise killed you, developing in too much weight loss( 15 pounds too many !). Next time, try losing less, because this ended up with you looking like a terrifying skeleton creature.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Excellent! Youve chosen to try to lose weight through both rehearsal and a healthy nutrition! But makes be real, large-scale guyyou can probably simply manage doing one of those at a time. Which one would you preferably do?

Exercise.

Diet.

Great! Effort, the brutality we set our figures through in order to look sex. How would you like to start employing today?

Join a gym.

Get a personal trainer.

Try meditating, if that is technically exercise.

Perfect. This is Quinn, your personal trainer.

You will never lose 8 pounds, says your Quinn.

Yes, Quinn, I know.

Sure, youre quiet or some shit for 25 minutes. Fucking cool-ass theme to sit on the storey to employ. Your heavines remains exactly the same. Who attends?

Get up, loser.

Ah, the gym! Therefore welcomed 24 -Hour Muscle Hell, the gym in your metropolitan that you can render! Its adage is You Will Lose 8 Pound Here, so things are finally examining up. What part of the gym would you like to start in?

The weights section.

The cardio section.

The Zumba studio.

The locker room section!

Yes, the heaviness area. The area of the gym that makes your flesh sing in pain! Time to sculpt a brand-new, lighter self from your old, heavier soul!

You look at the coach, who sides you two large metal devices. How will you follow?

Ask for a spotter.

Try to find people form to lift.

We can recognize you, say the strongest people in the gym, grabbing each of your barbells. With our help, youll be able to raise without cracking your sticker in half, and youll lose those 8 poundsguaranteed.

Lift heaviness with them.

Go back to the gym and try something else.

Each of them grabs one of your weights and embarks lifting it on their own. You try to grab on, but they both remark, No, dont contact. Were spotting you , not the other way around.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

You can face-lift us up, say the strongest parties in the gym, ambling up to you with their taut forms on display. If you lift us up, youll lose 8 pounds in no timethats a guarantee.

Lift them up.

Go back to the gym and try something else.

You try and try to lift them up. Were heavy, merely swollen with strong muscle tissue, they bellow each time “youre just trying to” lift them up. Hoisting two heavy beings is just the first step to changing their own lives!

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Yes, the cardio slouse. The area of the gym that becomes your middle explode!

Help me, suggests the cardio trainer. The gym has been downloading my muscles through these cables for years.

How will you continue?

Find somebody to chase on the treadmill.

Find somebody to pursue you on the treadmill.

The cardio trainer tries to build opening on the treadmill in order to be allowed to chase him, but suddenly, the gyms general manager comes up and starts touching his electric nipples.

More downloadingweve nearly replenished the mainframe with muscle, she responds. This being can lose 8 pounds later.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no heavines. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

The cardio trainer tries to constitute cavity on the treadmill so he can chase you, but suddenly, the gyms general manager comes up and starts touching his electric nipples.

More downloadingweve virtually replenished the mainframe with muscle, she adds. This soldier can lose 8 pounds later.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no weight. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Zumba it is! You walk into the studio, bloated with your 8 additional pounds still lodged deep under your skin.

Kill, your Zumba dojos yell in unison. Kill the man who is slightly heavier than he used to be.

How do you follow?

Fight your dojos.

Surrender to your dojos.

You have chosen to fight your Zumba dojos.

Zumba is a great way to shed additional weight, they wail one by one.

How would you like to fight your antagonists?

Sit on them one by one.

Break a brick in front of them.

Straight up roundhouse-kick them.

Your additional load throws off your aerodynamics a bit, and you end up piercing a pit through the wall.

Okay, sure, they say, bowing. You overcame us. Heres a Zumba belt for all your troubles.

Unfortunately, Zumba is a dance that is mostly self-defense, so it really doesnt concern too much push. As a upshot, you lost no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

You have chosen to surrender to your dojos. You are weak and will never lose 8 pounds, they yell one by one.

How would you like to surrender to your opponents?

Lie on the soil and shriek I continue heavy.

Hit your chief against the stack of ruin committees, but not so difficult that it does any damage.

Okay, sure, “theyre saying”, bowing. Youve emphatically have confirmed that you dont belong here. Heres a Zumba belt for all your troubles.

Unfortunately, Zumba is a dance that is mostly self-defense, it was therefore certainly doesnt involve too much gesture. As a result, “youve lost” no heavines. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Welcome to the locker room, the premier plaza to lose 8 pounds, mentions this gentleman, the cupboard room manager. This is a 24 -hour gym, so Ill be here 24 hours today. Would you like to sign up for a two-hour session of sitting with me?

Do a two-hour session with this man.

Go back to the gym.

Leave the gym and try another weight-loss method.

Two hours pass. You sat well, but somehow you lost no weight.

Great job! he answers, patting you on the back. Would you like to stay for another two-hour session?

Do another two-hour session with this man.

Go back to the gym.

Leave the gym and try another weight-loss method.

<div class="clickventure-node

The post Can You Lose 8 Pounds? appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

Can You Lose 8 Pounds?

This peculiarity compels JavaScript to function.

Hello. If youre learn this right now, its because you want to make a change. Youre here because youve always been huge, but now your largeness has already become revolt. You are here because God has cursed you with a flabby paunch, and you dislike the style it rebounds and oozes.

You are here, candidly, because you have nowhere else to turn.

I want to take control of my life.

I want to die a lonely, ruined person who is full of bitternes because I never took community initiatives.

Yes! The first step to succumbing a lonely, broken person who is full of regret is admitting to yourself that you want to die a lonely, busted person who is full of bitternes. Today is the day you embark on that footpath. Disappear out in the world, get down this computer, and hug the darkness.

Start Over

Incredible. Its time to begin anew! Its duration for a brand-new, less fleshy assembly. To start, take a good, hard look at yourself. Thisthis is you now.

Okay.

And this was youthis was you 8 glorious pounds ago.

Oh, wow.

No, its not.

Look, denial is a sign of weakness. Seem into your own sees. If youre going to make a change, you must accept that this perfect, chiseled muscle domain used to be yours.

I countenanced myself.

Yes! The actuality is, “you think youre” 8 pounds away from true-life joy. Your brand-new, lip-smacking person is almost within reach, but only if you vow worked very hard to and systematically destroy every inch of your old-time soul. So, how would you like to lose 8 pounds?

Exercise and borrow a healthy diet.

Take a dietary supplement.

Hurt my figure with the influenza!

I do not want to lose 8 pounds, because I am an idiot.

-Aha! You seem to be a stupid person who does not want to lose 8 pounds. Well, beneath that additional load is a beautiful and muscular Adonis just waiting to kill the old-fashioned you.

So, how will you get gushed for your total 8-pound makeover?

Check out some weight-loss message boards.

Look at your fantastically scrawny girlfriend.

Remember the days when you werent 8 pounds heavier.

You decide to log onto lard.edu, your favorite bodybuilding health resource.

Log onto lard.com and speak some testimonials.

Log onto lad.com and look at porn.

Incredible. Lad.com is unfortunately best available website on the internet. While the actors svelte forms did in fact see you want to lose 8 pounds, you were so drawn to the red-hot, attractive copulation that you didnt leave your computer for hours. Instead, you gained 2 pounds from sitting and neglected! Whoops.

Log onto the computer again.

Try another weight-loss method.

Start Over

You go to the testimonials section. Yes, this is the stuff you need.

Comment I WANT TO CHANGE MY LIFE.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

You retain scrolling. Its incredible.

Comment THIS IS RELATABLE TO ME.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

Great, youre motivated! Now gives lose those pounds!

Comment PLEASE SEND DETAILS ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH YOUR BROTHER.

Exit the computer and start your journey.

Hi, lover, says your scrawny lover, ogling you up and down. I heard you are trying to lose 8 pounds. Hey, we should engage in the primal ordinance of sexits great for losing 8 pounds.

Yes, satisfy!

No thanks.

Actually, just kidding, she adds. Sex is for people who have lost 8 pounds. Well have sex when youve lost 8 pounds.

Okay.

Oh, okay, thats penalty, I understand, she supposes. I will break up with you then! Makes have sex when youve lost 8 pounds.

Okay.

Ah, the days when you were 8 pounds lighter and the world was brighter…the days when all your breathes were unfathomably loose….

Yes, I remember…

I do not remember that.

The dates when you deemed an apple in your hands at all times and smiled…when you wore a tape measure around your waist as jewelry….

Ah, yes…

Still I do not remember…

The dates when your family was still alive….

I remember…my God….

I am ready to lose 8 poundsI swear it.

Ah, the flu! An superb choice. The influenza is the worlds No. 1 sicknes for inducing pounds and pounds of liquid secretion. How would you like to get a slimming, fat-burning sprain of the flu today?

Lick the hands of this flu seasons patient zero.

Ask the hospital for their exploited needles and then jump in a accumulation of them.

Go to the doctor and implore for the most slimming flu he has.

Incredible! You got the flu. The good word is that youre now sicker than youve ever seen, and 3 pounds of liquids “ve already” secreted from your loopholes! The bad news is that your person stands swollen and unsightly. What do you do now?

Go to the doctor and implore for a worse disease.

Continue trying to lose weight with this potentially inept flu.

Great choice! You go to the doctor and entreat for the influenza, best available weight-loss program in the world.

Oh, God, only look at youyou urgently need to lose 8 pounds, does the doctor. I could give you the flu, or I could give you a more extreme weight-loss procedure Ive been working on.

Ask him for the flu.

Ask him for the revolutionary medical procedure.

Great choiceIve been meaning to commit a fun felony and finally play-act this weight-loss procedure on someone, he replies, laying you down. Im going to applied this monkey soul in you and just see what happens with your 8 pounds. How does that voice?

Yes, satisfy, I want to be slim! Make me that monkey heart.

No thanks, Ill take the skinny cancer instead!

While lying lifelessly next to the toilet, you try on your old breathes. Wow, they scarcely fit! Your lip may be parched and your eyes crusted closed, but if you took a shower, youd be 10 days hotter than you were before!

So, how will you lose those remaining 5 pounds?

Keep having the flujust 5 more pounds!

Get some broth to suck on and to continue efforts to dry yourself.

Oh , no! You lost 5 pounds, and then 4 more pounds! The flu was unfortunately more effective, and you discontinued up losing 12 pounds total. You appear scrawny and disgusting, a merely skeleton of the hunk you once were. Maybe try gaining heavines, because right now youre a fitness disaster.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Well, you steamed some hot water over a moo-cow and made yourself some beef broth. But unfortunately, you got better, and you stopped losing load when you were only 2 pounds short of your goal! Sadly, it seems like youre still a blob-like fitness tragedy. Would you like to try another way?

Go back and try another way!

Great choice! You go to the doctor and sidestep for the most difficult, most infectious disease hes get. Perhaps malaria, if he has it.

Oh, Jesus, you urgently need to lose 8 pounds, reads the doctor. I could give you either a altogether untested infection I invented or a radical weight-loss procedure Ive been working on.

Ask him for the skinny disease.

Ask him for the revolutionary medical procedure.

This disease progressed from monkey DNA, but dont perturb, its not AIDS, says your doctor. Hopefully, itll get those 5 standing pounds off!

Sprout hair from every limb.

Pick up a lodge and begin trying to jab it into numerous punctures in the office to look for bugs.

The results are great at first! You eat a healthy, clean nutrition of maggots and vegetation, and almost instantly embarked wincing. Unfortunately, you became more being than monkey, and while your skeleton was contracting into the exact size of a primate, you lost 25 additional pounds. Looks like youll have to try again if you want to lose precisely 8.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Congrats! You now have a monkey heart, which is already 2 pounds lighter than a human nerve. And holy moo-cow, you examine hotbut you feel even hotter. How will you lose those last-place 3 pounds?

By eating chows and vegetation.

By mistaking a squirrel for a potential teammate and trying to persuasion it.

Mmm, beautiful. Mating with a squirrel can burn up to 500 calories in an hour. How will you follow?

Seduce it.

Pass for now and chew some grubs.

You did it! You lost 8 pounds! Its uncertain whether you lost the weight from your brand-new relationship or due to the fact that monkey souls beat 10 meters faster than those of human rights, but no matter! Youre a perfect 8 pounds lighter now, healthy and hot as is also possible. Well done!

Start Over

Great! Seeming hungry, you leave the hospital and see this: a delicious chow! Mmm…what would you like to do?

Eat the grub.

Go for the squirrel instead.

Well, “youve lost” heavines, but you lost too much. This grub was high-flown in protein and low-grade in fat, but its high poison material likewise killed you, developing in too much weight loss( 15 pounds too many !). Next time, try losing less, because this ended up with you looking like a terrifying skeleton creature.

Wait, its not over! Try to gain the load back.

Start Over

Excellent! Youve chosen to try to lose weight through both rehearsal and a healthy nutrition! But makes be real, large-scale guyyou can probably simply manage doing one of those at a time. Which one would you preferably do?

Exercise.

Diet.

Great! Effort, the brutality we set our figures through in order to look sex. How would you like to start employing today?

Join a gym.

Get a personal trainer.

Try meditating, if that is technically exercise.

Perfect. This is Quinn, your personal trainer.

You will never lose 8 pounds, says your Quinn.

Yes, Quinn, I know.

Sure, youre quiet or some shit for 25 minutes. Fucking cool-ass theme to sit on the storey to employ. Your heavines remains exactly the same. Who attends?

Get up, loser.

Ah, the gym! Therefore welcomed 24 -Hour Muscle Hell, the gym in your metropolitan that you can render! Its adage is You Will Lose 8 Pound Here, so things are finally examining up. What part of the gym would you like to start in?

The weights section.

The cardio section.

The Zumba studio.

The locker room section!

Yes, the heaviness area. The area of the gym that makes your flesh sing in pain! Time to sculpt a brand-new, lighter self from your old, heavier soul!

You look at the coach, who sides you two large metal devices. How will you follow?

Ask for a spotter.

Try to find people form to lift.

We can recognize you, say the strongest people in the gym, grabbing each of your barbells. With our help, youll be able to raise without cracking your sticker in half, and youll lose those 8 poundsguaranteed.

Lift heaviness with them.

Go back to the gym and try something else.

Each of them grabs one of your weights and embarks lifting it on their own. You try to grab on, but they both remark, No, dont contact. Were spotting you , not the other way around.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

You can face-lift us up, say the strongest parties in the gym, ambling up to you with their taut forms on display. If you lift us up, youll lose 8 pounds in no timethats a guarantee.

Lift them up.

Go back to the gym and try something else.

You try and try to lift them up. Were heavy, merely swollen with strong muscle tissue, they bellow each time “youre just trying to” lift them up. Hoisting two heavy beings is just the first step to changing their own lives!

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Yes, the cardio slouse. The area of the gym that becomes your middle explode!

Help me, suggests the cardio trainer. The gym has been downloading my muscles through these cables for years.

How will you continue?

Find somebody to chase on the treadmill.

Find somebody to pursue you on the treadmill.

The cardio trainer tries to build opening on the treadmill in order to be allowed to chase him, but suddenly, the gyms general manager comes up and starts touching his electric nipples.

More downloadingweve nearly replenished the mainframe with muscle, she responds. This being can lose 8 pounds later.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no heavines. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

The cardio trainer tries to constitute cavity on the treadmill so he can chase you, but suddenly, the gyms general manager comes up and starts touching his electric nipples.

More downloadingweve virtually replenished the mainframe with muscle, she adds. This soldier can lose 8 pounds later.

You eventually give up, but as a result, lose no weight. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Zumba it is! You walk into the studio, bloated with your 8 additional pounds still lodged deep under your skin.

Kill, your Zumba dojos yell in unison. Kill the man who is slightly heavier than he used to be.

How do you follow?

Fight your dojos.

Surrender to your dojos.

You have chosen to fight your Zumba dojos.

Zumba is a great way to shed additional weight, they wail one by one.

How would you like to fight your antagonists?

Sit on them one by one.

Break a brick in front of them.

Straight up roundhouse-kick them.

Your additional load throws off your aerodynamics a bit, and you end up piercing a pit through the wall.

Okay, sure, they say, bowing. You overcame us. Heres a Zumba belt for all your troubles.

Unfortunately, Zumba is a dance that is mostly self-defense, so it really doesnt concern too much push. As a upshot, you lost no load. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

You have chosen to surrender to your dojos. You are weak and will never lose 8 pounds, they yell one by one.

How would you like to surrender to your opponents?

Lie on the soil and shriek I continue heavy.

Hit your chief against the stack of ruin committees, but not so difficult that it does any damage.

Okay, sure, “theyre saying”, bowing. Youve emphatically have confirmed that you dont belong here. Heres a Zumba belt for all your troubles.

Unfortunately, Zumba is a dance that is mostly self-defense, it was therefore certainly doesnt involve too much gesture. As a result, “youve lost” no heavines. You still have 8 pounds to gowhat should you do?

Go try something else at the gym.

Try dieting instead.

Leave the gym and try to lose 8 pounds another way.

Welcome to the locker room, the premier plaza to lose 8 pounds, mentions this gentleman, the cupboard room manager. This is a 24 -hour gym, so Ill be here 24 hours today. Would you like to sign up for a two-hour session of sitting with me?

Do a two-hour session with this man.

Go back to the gym.

Leave the gym and try another weight-loss method.

Two hours pass. You sat well, but somehow you lost no weight.

Great job! he answers, patting you on the back. Would you like to stay for another two-hour session?

Do another two-hour session with this man.

Go back to the gym.

Leave the gym and try another weight-loss method.

<div class="clickventure-node

The post Can You Lose 8 Pounds? appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2qURYdV via IFTTT