#else I shall bury you alive

[soulofapatrick]

Amortentia - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: You brew Amortentia and it leads somewhere you didn't ever expect Words: 1.7k Warnings: none really Notes: I am alive I promise, been really busy as we're getting ready to move house

Y/N’s POV

Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world. The way many people find their partners in Hogwarts and the most exciting class of the year. Everyone is buzzing around, whispering and giggling with their friends about the vial sat on Professor Slughorn’s desk, left completely unguarded. I take on glance at the shimmering blue liquid and cringe a little before finding the closest seat to the door, throwing my bag on the floor after pulling out the Potions book. 

“Hey Y/N,” Harry slides into the seat beside me with his signature unruly black hair and this bright green eyes that seem to hold a hint of mischief and determination, and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He wears his Gryffindor uniform somewhat neatly, his tie slightly askew adding to this charm.

Ron isn’t far behind, grumbling about the upcoming lesson. His fiery red hair is as untameable as ever, and his freckled face displaying nothing but annoyance as he throws his arms over mine and Harry’s shoulders and letting his knees buckle while pretending to swoon, “Oh Theodore, my love, it youuuuuu-“ 

“Oh shut up!” I push his arm off my shoulders and he falls with a cry of surprise, Harry trying to catch him but ending up letting Ron fall to snigger behind his hand, “You’re probably going to fall head over heels for Snape… oh Snape, oh how I love thee Sn-“ 

“Alright, let’s begin this lesson shall we?” Professor Slughorn comes breezing in, not as well as Snape as he’s just too happy for that. Ron squeezes my shoulder before he slinks off to sit in one of the only spaces next to Neville who looks like he would rather be anywhere else. 

As the lesson commences, Slughorn goes over the instructions and safety precautions for handling Amortentia. The excitement in the room is palpable as we prepare to brew the potent love potion. The air is filled with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, but I find myself feeling grateful for Harry taking over, using his special edition of the potions book that is full of scribbles and notes presumably making the potion better. The simmering cauldrons and swirling concoctions coming together creates an almost enchanting atmosphere, the scents in the air shifting and blending, giving the room an ethereal quality. 

A figure appears over my shoulder, surprise and curiosity coursing through my veins when I recognise that familiar scent of oranges, honeycomb and something darker like amber which can mean only one thing: Theodore Nott is standing behind me. His calm and composed demeanour a little intimidating as I don’t think I’ve ever seen him actually smile more than a very small lift of the corner of his lips. Oh his lips, so plump and flush and-

“How’s the potion going Mouse? Have you blown up-“ He stops abruptly, leaving forwards over my shoulder and taking a very deep breath, causing me to stumble a little over the response I was trying to formulate. His voice is low and husky, sending shivers down my spine at the nickname he calls me. 

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s coming along.” I manage to stammer rout, feeling my cheeks heat up, “Haven’t blown anything up… yet.” 

Theodore’s lips quirk upward ever so slightly, and I catch a glimpse of what could be a hint of amusement. He leans in a little closer, and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, sending more shivers down my spine, but it’s a delicious kind nervousness, a feeling I can’t quite put into words. Before I can fully process the situation, Theodore buries his nose in the crook of my neck, taking a deep breath. My heart pounds in my chest so loud I’m sure Ron can hear it from across the room, and time seems to slow down. The scents of oranges, honeycomb and amber envelops us, creating an intimate and intoxicating moment. 

I can hardly believe that Theodore, the stoic and straight-faced Slytherin, is here, so close to me, and that he’s showing this level of vulnerability. His actions are unexpected but oh so incredibly thrilling. I dare to steal a glance at his face, and I’m met with a sight I’ve never seen before - a softness in his expression, a hint of something more than his usual guarded demeanour. It’s as if he’s letting down his walls, revealing a side of himself he rarely shows to anyone. 

My heart races, and I find myself yearning for more of this closeness, more of this connection. It’s like a spell has been cast, and I’m under Theodore’s enchantment. The excitement and nervousness intertwine, and I feel a sense of wonder at the unexpected turn of events, how close he is to me. I can feel his breath ghosting over my lips, knowing that I could just lean forwards ever so slightly and close the near non-existence space between us. The smell of oranges, honeycomb and amber suddenly gets so intense I have to grab the edge of the table and Theodore’s forearm. 

“Aha! We did it!” Harry exclaims, breaking the moment and has Theodore pulling back. Theodore’s eyes meet mine, and I see a spark of something familiar and yet different. The air between us crackles with unspoken words, emotions swirling around us like the brewing potions in the classroom.

“Oh god.” I choke out and I think Theodore actually smiles for the first time, the corner of his lips tilting up into more of a smile than he’s ever shown before, “Wh-what do you smell Teddy?”

He leans in once more, his nose brushing against my collarbone and neck. His closeness sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. And then, he presses a soft, gentle kiss to my jaw, sending shockwaves of sensation through me. It’s a sweet, tender touch that leaves me breathless. 

“You.” He whispers, his voice barely audible,  but the impact of his words reverberates within me. The world seems to stand still, and my heart swells with emotion. 

Theodore Tiberius Nott, the guarded and enigmatic Slytherin, had just confessed, in his own subtle way, that he feels something for me. My cheeks flush with a. Mixture of excitement and disbelief. It’s a moment I never thought I’d experience - being so close to Theodore, sharing this intimate connection, and hearing him express his feelings in such a heartfelt manner. In the heart-stopping moment, I can see the turmoil of emotions playing across his face. His eyes meet mine with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. And then, without warning, he mumbles a single phrase that sets my heart racing even faster. 

“Fuck it,” he whispers, and before I can process his intent, his hand cups my jaw, and he draws me up into a kiss. It’s a surprise, but the moment our lips meet, it’s as if everything falls into place. 

The kiss is soft yet intense, filled with all the emotions that words can’t express. It feels like an explosion of passion and longing, an unspoken confession that’s now imprinted on our lips. Theodore’s lips are warm and inviting, and I respond with equal fervour, my heart soaring with joy and disbelief. Time seems to stand still, and the air crackles with the intensity of our shared emotions. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a revelation of hidden desires and unspoken feelings. All the walls Theodore had erected to guard his heart have crumbled, and in this magical moment, he bares himself to me in the most intimate way. 

Just as the world around us seems to disappear in the enchantment of the moment, reality crashes back in with an unexpected interruption. Ron, being the protective and ever-observant twin brother, appears out of nowhere and is shoving Theodore away from me. 

“Hey! That’s my sister!” Ron’s voice is filled with shock and indignation, “You can’t just go around kissing my sister!” 

“Ron!” I can’t help but practically facepalm at him as he’s… he’s being Ron, “Shove off,” I reach around Ron and manage to get a grip on Theodore’s sleeve enough to pull him back over to me. Ron's protectiveness is well-intentioned, but I can't let it ruin the magical moment that Theodore and I just shared. 

“I’m not… She’s safe with me, I promise.” Theodore's words are reassuring, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks. Despite his usual stoic demeanour, there's a tenderness in his touch as he holds my hand, a silent declaration of his feelings for me. 

“I trust him.” I say firmly, giving my brother a pleading look. Ron just looks torn for a moment, clearly struggling between his protective instincts and his trust in me. But then, he takes a deep breath and nods reluctantly. 

“Fine.” His says, his voice gruff but accepting, “But if he hurts you in any way, he’ll have me to deal with.” Ron eyes him warily but eventually takes a step back, giving us some space. ”Just remember, Y/N, he's a Slytherin," Ron says, his protective tone still evident.

"He's more than just his house," I reply, trying to convey the depth of my feelings for Theodore.

Ron studies me for a moment before he finally relents. ”Fine," he says, "But don't say I didn't warn you.”

With that, Ron turns and walks away, leaving Theodore and me standing there, still holding hands. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that Ron didn't push the matter further. 

“Ahhhh young love.” Slughorn’s voice floats across the room , filled with warmth and nostalgia, and I do the only thing I can: bury my face in Theodore’s sweater, feeling a laugh rumble in his chest. 

“Indeed.” Theodore says, his voice laced with amusement as he wraps his arms around me in a gentle embrace. Slughorn giving us an indulgent smile before continuing with the class. The room seeming to take on a different atmosphere now, one that’s tinged with a newfound sweetness and magic. The shimmering cauldrons and swirling potions seem to mirror the emotions swirling within me, and I can’t help but realise how cliche this is. Expressing our feelings for each other during the lesson on amortentia… 

“I’ll wait for you after class.” Theodore murmurs, kissing my forehead then my cheek before untangling himself from my embrace before heading back to his seat next to a predictably sneering Draco Malfoy. 

“What just happened?’ I ask Harry, a little dazed still, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“I’m not actually sure.” 

-----------

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[pininghermit]

Right Infront of My Salad?

Request: @dreamtogether2000 I was only doing it because I was curious but then I got Obsessed?! Please this with gn reader is everything I love! Go Buck Wild.

AN: First of all what a pick. Second of all, thank you for requesting this. I love writing crack fics especially this one was awesome. I hope you like it. We shall name this the Tropesvania Event- feel free to request

Genre: Fluff

Pairing(s): Adrian Tepes x GN Reader

Summary: Obsessed-gn-drabble

“They are, to put it mildly…” Lisa cringed, glancing into the camera, “obsessed with each other.”

“They’ve lost it. Whatever this is, it’s worse than anything unholy,” Dracula deadpanned, his tone dripping with the resignation of a centuries-old vampire.

Somehow, it had come to this: Dracula and Lisa, dragged onto Dr. Phil, seated stiffly next to their son, Adrian, and you. The root of the chaos.

Yet, the elephant in the room remained unaddressed. And riding triumphantly atop that elephant, entwined as if nothing else in the world existed, were Lisa and Dracula’s beloved son and you.

It had all started innocently enough, during the honeymoon phase of dating. At first, Lisa had found it endearing. Adrian gushing about you had been a breath of fresh air.

Every detail about your smile, your laugh, your favorite book had been recounted with an enthusiasm so pure it melted even Dracula’s icy heart.

Lisa had helped Adrian pick out the right outfits, thoughtful gifts, and conversation topics to avoid awkward silences. Dracula had joined in too, bemused by the adorable mess his son had become under the spell of young love.

Then, they met you.

From the moment of that first introduction, you had stormed into Castle Dracula like a burst of spring sunlight, your chaotic energy scattering the stoic gothic gloom.

Supper, once a quiet affair for three, transformed into a nightly event for four. The castle seemed warmer, brighter—alive. Though neither parent would admit it, there were moments they almost welcomed the change.

It was as if the wintery gloom of their home had been replace with fistfuls of spring shoved up ever nook of the castle.

But young love is nothing if not overwhelming.

Catching the two of you making out had been amusing at first, Dracula turning a delicate shade of crimson and retreating with an indignant swoosh of his cape.

But the charm wore thin quickly. After exactly twenty-three incidents of stumbling upon you in her lab, Lisa’s patience finally snapped.

And yet, here you were.

“I love you,” you giggled, nestled against Adrian, your hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the firelight.

Across the room, Lisa and Dracula watched from the couch, their expressions somewhere between weariness and acceptance, as Adrian’s face lit up to match yours. “I love you more,” he replied earnestly, leaning in closer.

“Noooo,” you drawled, sticking your tongue out at him playfully. “I love you more.”

Adrian pressed a kiss to your cheek, his golden eyes brimming with adoration. “I love you more than anything.”

Lisa saw Dracula’s face turn a distinct shade of green. Whether it was from the sweetness of the hot chocolate or the relentless PDA, she couldn’t say.

The count excused himself abruptly, clearing his throat as both parents caught sight of Adrian’s hand slipping under the blanket.

A single day. Adrian had been gone for one day to retrieve an ancient tome.

It had been an ordeal pulling him away, his golden eyes darting anxiously between you and the door as he nodded solemnly to your endless instructions about his health. To Lisa’s surprise, you had smiled and sent him off with a merry wave.

It unsettled both parents when you slammed the door shut immediately afterward only for your composure to crumble into pieces.

“I miss him,” you whimpered, staring forlornly at the cracks in the stone floor. “However shall I endure this?” you sobbed, burying your face in your arms.

For hours, you parked yourself by the door, refusing to move, before embarking on a grieving tour of the castle. Every room bore witness to your dramatic laments as you sprawled across tables, sighed mournfully in hallways, and flopped listlessly onto chairs.

Lisa and Dracula followed at a safe distance, watching in silent horror. By the end of the day, Lisa questioned her son’s doting nature, and Dracula could only mutter, “I'm too old for this Lisa.”

When Adrian finally returned, all hell broke loose.

You bolted toward him the moment the doors opened, nearly tripping over the carpet in your haste to reach him. Lisa and Dracula stood frozen in place, watching the soap opera that Castle Dracula had somehow become unfold before their eyes.

But it wasn’t the excessively affectionate reunion that left them speechless. It wasn’t even your tearful declarations of love or Adrian’s matching intensity.

It was the bold black ink scrawled across Adrian’s arm.

Your name. Permanently tattooed, proud and unashamed.

The sight left the family in stunned silence, each member processing the revelation in their own way.

For Lisa, it was an emotional breakdown, complete with head-in-hands groaning. For Dracula, it was a mental and spiritual crisis, punctuated by a mumbled, “By all the dark powers… what has he done?”

Meanwhile, the happy couple remained blissfully unaware of the chaos swirling around them, lost in a world that consisted of only each other.

Castle Dracula would never be the same again.

[lokisgoodgirl]

The Prince is Dead [Asgard!Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Shaken by Loki's death on Svartálfheim, you confront the one you blame the most. Odin. (w/c 1.9k) Warnings: Angst. Set between TDW and Ragnarok. Mentions of death. Heartbreak. Violent imagery. Melt to fluff (implied)

The sun still rose in the North and set in the South, the way it always did. Clattering swords rang from the training ground, each echo of distant laughter another stake through your chest. But Asgard's golden turrets would still shine garishly in the morning light. As ever it was, so it shall be.

You wrapped a thin shawl tighter around your arms. The Prince is dead, you thought, biting back a sigh. The majestic façade was dulled behind the drape of your mourning veil, grey and lifeless. Or perhaps, you just finally saw things as they truly were.

Five moons had since risen and ebbed while you had lain half-alive in your chambers. Sleep descended in snatches, an unwelcome friend. And of course, you had dreamt of him.

His shadowed smile glancing back as he led you through winding palace paths. His face turned to the ceiling in the bed you shared, frozen in anguish. Bloodless with deep blue veins wound in spider patterns across lifeless cheeks. Or his kiss fastening to your own, a loving whisper of your name on warm lips as he melted into you. When you would wake, that dream was the worst of all.

The Prince is dead, a guard had told you with no emotion. With no sympathy. You had waited until he had retreated to sink to your knees, body racking with silent, violent sobs. No one had seen you cry, though. Loki would have approved.

You assumed that your place within the palace was forfeit. By tradition, you should have been removed immediately. Perhaps Thor had intervened to allow a period of mourning. If he had, it would be the one decent thing he's ever done. You pondered that thought bitterly for a moment, wishing he'd used that sliver of kindness to bring Loki's body home instead.

But either way, it didn't matter now.

You inhaled shakily while nervous fingers wound through the thick fabric of your skirts. To anyone else, they would look black. But in truth they were the deepest, darkest green. A waft of fragrant spice rolled on the wind across the balustrade from the markets, heating the cool air. Gods, how you missed him.

The anger, you would admit, had taken you by surprise. When your face wasn't buried in Loki's pillow, inhaling his waning scent between shuddering tears - it was anger. Only that.

It was anger that had brought the fine Asgardian sculptures in your rooms to their undignified end. Anger that fuelled the plot which burned and blossomed in your mind while shadows danced the walls. Anger that urged to you don silken armour this morning, to parade yourself as bait.

It was anger that kept your head high while you rode the whispers following you like smoke. Anger, you had found, was more of a comfort than remembering. A locket bearing Loki's initial hid beneath your bodice, blossoms from the tree beneath which he had first kissed you preserved inside. A gift. One of his prize daggers was strapped to your thigh, and with every step to your final destination, the cool blade kissed your skin.

Your fingertips steadied on the balustrade wall as a ceremonial clatter of guards approached. Eyes fixed on the old town, you composed yourself. The breeze made the dark veil flutter. There was a single heavy clang as twenty spears hit the marble floor in unison. A growl of stand back broke the heavy silence. The guards complied.

"Why do you mourn him so?" a voice rasped. "You are finally free."

The King's words were thick as he rustled beside your shoulder. Beneath the veil, your frown deepened. "Even from you Allfather, I would expect more sensitivity." you muttered. Odin drew up to his full height, observing the spread of his kingdom with a sanctimonious smirk. Patience, you thought. The absence of your bow was treasonous, and it would have been noted. He let out a forced laugh, meaty hands clasping behind his back. "I expect you may have thought that you loved him. But you did not know him as I did."

"You're right, I didn't."

It was surprising how easily the words came. Strong and clear and crisp. "I knew his heart."

Odin chuckled. "His heart," he mocked. "That you think he had one betrays your naivety. Go, now. Be free."

Bravery welled in your belly like a swollen river, pushing a prick of tears to your eyes. You felt like you might burst. You were suddenly glad the old fuck couldn't see your face.

Patience.

With a god, time was something that could be counted on. Or, it should be. Time to grow and love and to be free. That was the plan for you and Loki. But now, time stretched before you like an endless, lonley void. A sentence. Odin and his arrogance had seen to that.

"You forget yourself Odin, son of Bor," you said; and for a moment, he looked genuinely shocked. Or is he impressed, you thought fleetingly.

"You lost a son-"

You raised a hand as his cracked lips began to move in predictable denial. "A son." you repeated firmly.

The word hung thick between you. "Asgard lost not just a Prince, it lost a protector. The one that shielded them from this palace and its ruler's whims."

Odin was silent.

"And I lost-"

A lump rose in your throat. Everything.

"I know what you lost, " the King spat. "The chance to be queen by the unsurper's side once he had slain the true heir. The chance to wallow in finery and filth encrusted sheets while that disgraced Jotun defiled you at any time of the day or night. Plotting."

You shook your head. And you couldn't help it. You laughed.

"For all your years, you know nothing. Nothing about truth, or destiny, or love. I see that now-"

"Love," Odin scoffed, cutting in." If you loved him, you were the only one who ever did. "

"I love him still," you murmured, turning towards the rolling mountains. Your fingers played at the hilt of the dagger through the slit in your gown. "Forget him." Odin sniffed, waving a hand. "You will be the better for it, we all will."

His loaded dismissal blew away any lingering doubt.

Loki's face flashed behind your eyelids, a vision of the day he had finally let you in to his solitary world. Golden specks of dust had swirled within a single beam of amber light cutting through the healing room. He had sat perched on a single bed, elbows resting on his knees. Despite the lengthy battle, his skin glowed luminous in the dying song of day. Deep wounds streaked across his stomach and ribs and back, purple bruises marring his skin like the darkest storm-clouds. His leather armour lay in a ragged pile by his feet. Blood crept from its crevices, seeping into the cracks of the stone floor.

You had cried then, too. Only once.

"It will heal," he had said, cupping your cheek with a strained smile. "Do not waste your worry."

"I can't help it," you'd replied, tracing your fingertips over a gash in his side. Loki had winced. As you watched, the skin began to stretch and meld millimetre by millimetre. "You shall have to become more stoic if you are to be my wife one day," Loki smiled. There was a pause, before he frowned. "Does it make you feel better? The worry?"

"Yes," you had answered truthfully. You curled a lock of damp hair behind his ear. Someone has to worry for you, you'd thought. Loki smiled again. "Then I'll allow it," he murmured softly, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. And he did.

A silent tear rolled down your cheek as your fingers crept around the daggers hilt. The peace of the realm would soon be broken. Wails of anguish would rinse the clouds, public displays of grief filling the air with heavy sighs and glowing orbs. It should have been allowed for your love, but it wasn't. Asgard should be in mourning, and soon it would be- you would make sure of that. You only wished you would be there to see it.

"He loved you all, and I'll never know why," you said solemnly, heat flushing your cheeks. "It was never deserved, never appreciated. Especially not by you." The final word darted like venom between your teeth.

Odin laughed. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"I never did understand him," he crooned, not deigning to look at you. The dagger slid from it's hold against your thigh. "You never tried." you whispered.

In the briefest of moments, you whipped the dagger with trained precision. The thin blade rested beneath the god's chin, digging into soft, fat flesh. From behind, the guards would see nothing.

"Ah," the Allfather hummed, tilting his head back ever so slightly. His stance never changed. "I commend your audacity my dear. Truly. But you see, I am not the monster that you think I am."

Something in his tone made you pause. You had been fully prepared to sink Loki's dagger into his throat without mercy. Ready to hear the wet gurgle of breath fighting blood. Escaping retribution from this was not an option, but you didn't want it. You wanted to see the look on Odin's face as the lights went out. You wanted to see his one staring eye glaze to the heavens as life left him. For him to know with his dying rattle that someone cared enough for Loki of Asgard to avenge him, no matter the cost.

"You are a monster," you panted through gritted teeth. An unnerving smile began to crawl across Odin's lips. "True," he said coyly. "But not the one you think I am."

Your eye twitched, taking in the opaque blue of his stare that suddenly sparkled with more life than you had seen in years. Your stomach churned, the hand holding the blade beginning to tremble.

"With my dagger too, how poetic," Odin whispered with a smirk.

You gasped, jumping back as the blade tumbled towards the ground. It disappeared in a flash of seidr before hitting the marble.

It can't be-

"Guards!" the Allfather thundered, straightening as they resumed their posts. "Show the Lady to my private chambers. There are matters regarding Prince Loki's memorial we must urgently discuss."

You saw the guards throw confused glances to one another as you stood slack-jawed beneath the veil. Odin raised your hand, placing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

"It will heal," he murmured against your skin, before letting the hand fall limply to your side. The King leant closer, the ghost of his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Do not waste your worry."

The familiar words ricochet between your ears, heart thumping as you followed the jostling procession across the balustrade. It was all you could do not to faint. The implications, if your mind did not play tricks, were too vast.

So you decided to focus on the gait of the King as you placed one foot in front of the other. On the swagger that had not been there when you last spoke weeks before. As if the weight of another’s passion still hung between his thighs. He would not part with that. You smiled, feeling it grow as you watched the unmistakable way his shoulders swayed back and forth with each long stride. The undeniable spring in his step. Singularly focused, like another you had known. It held a promise. A hope.

It was a ten minute walk to the King's chambers.

So you focused on the sway of his shoulders. On the mischievous spring in his step. Only that.

A/N - I wrote this on the back of a bus in Morocco and haven't messed with it much - i do like the concept though, hope you do too! Thanks to @lokischambermaid for her enthusiasm when I first mentioned it a while back :) Love you! x If you want to see what 'after' might look like - check out Praise Him (smut) which is also based on this concept :) It's one of my earlier fics though and it shows 😂

Tags @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @infinitystoner @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

[motherraid]

Rewards

((Sebek x Reader))

I'd JUST realized that I did not post this the way I intended to.... After a month of it just sitting in the void...

Kind of a part 2 to this?

(Sebek x Afab!Reader // Embarrassing ways of describing Afab!Reader parts >- >;;; // C*ckwarming // Kinda vanilla sex tbh // Overstimulation,, just a tad bit // Studying // But not actually studying // Basically just a more fleshed out version of the previous ask // Rambles shall hereby never be proofread no matter how desperately they need to be I am MUCH too lazy)

This was NOT the way to study. At least, this wasn't what you had thought you'd be doing when sweet innocent Sebek told Lilia that you both would be in his room "studying."

After witnessing you acting a fool with those irritating, skittle haired friends of yours DURING CLASS, he'd concluded that you need to work on your obedience and focus on your lessons. So, he'd decided to help you the only way your tiny, primitive, human brain could understand.

You're not even allowed to look at him. Only after you finish your work will you finally be "rewarded," and you can't cheat your way out of this. Every time you try to bounce even slightly, grind against him, or moan into his ear, he'll pull out of you and leave you clenching air, dryly stating that maybe you're beyond helping and the "session" should end here. Which leads you to beg him for another chance. This continues until you straighten up, pick up your pencil, and focus on your homework placed in front of you. He won't break. No reward for no work.

You could practically feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. In normal circumstances, this would be uncomfortable. Stressful, even. However, it's safe to say his behavior in this particular situation is more than understandable. After all, you're the one sat comfortably in his warm lap, with his even warmer dick nestled deep inside of you.

He starts off with his chest against your back, voice stern and commanding. When he'd point to the equations on your worksheet, criticizing every error you would make, his voice would rumble in his throat and bob his Adam's apple against your shoulder.

If the fact that he was buried deep into your pretty cunt wasn't enough to melt you alive at that point, then the close proximity would. From your thighs squished tight against his, to your back, where your heart would hammer against his sternum and encourage his to pound in tandem, and especially the warmth of your back, he seemed to like the state he'd put you in. He'd be reminded of it every time you'd clench around his cock. Whether on purpose or accident, both would earn you a smack on the thigh. He'd hiss a sharp reprimand through clenched teeth and try his best to disguise his shaky, pleasured sigh as a huff of aggravation.

Then, his resolve seemed impeccable. He was so laser focused onto the paper and almost never entertained your incessant whining. You didn't even dare try to plead with him, or else you'd be scolded, and he'd drag out your "study session" even longer.

But now, half an hour later, he didn't seem as strict as before. Whether his leniency is because he's decided to have some mercy on you, or because he's finding it rather hard to keep himself together, he leans back in the chair and tells you to finish the last three problems on your own since you're doing so well. And even now, you're still not allowed to look back at him. Every time you'd try, he'd grab your chin and pull your gaze back to your paper. Even a bit of your attention would make the tendon on the underside of his cock flex, and you can feel that bulge shift deep in your belly. He has to keep himself from snapping somehow.

You'd swear he was using magic on you in some way because every twitch in his muscles would light up your nerves like sparks. A shiver shakes a small whimper from your lips, and a deep grunt from his as he rolls his head against the back of the chair. His hands, instead of being wrapped around your waist, pointing out flaws and errors on your paper, or delivering a sharp smack to your thigh, were gripping the seat for dear life.

He may be a bit irrational, but he was damn sure smart enough to know that if his hands find their way to your body again, he'd crush you tight to his chest and stand up so he could properly bend you over the desk and satisfy his aching cock. But he couldn't. Not until you were finished. He can't reward you before you've earned it. Then you'd never learn, and you would never take him seriously (and what a great sentiment! Strange way of acting on it, but great sentiment nonetheless ig).

At this point, he could excuse your shifting to get more comfortable and even your occasional whining, mostly because it's been so long, and you probably feel the exact same amount of agony he must be feeling. But when you buck your hips or grind your ass into his lap to relieve some of the pressure in your core, then you've gone too far.

His legs tense underneath you, and just when you think he might break and finally let go of this silly idea, another loud smack strikes your thigh, and red skin is made redder like a toddler getting spanked.

"Don't. Test. Me." He hisses.

You don't need to look back at him to know he's scowling at you. His eyes glare daggers at the back of your head as you lock in to finish your last question. He hears your hand scribbling against the desk, damn near burning holes in the paper and, to be honest, he preens a little knowing that your revived dedication for studying is a product of his "teaching". But was this really so hard to do in the first place? Maybe you two could have actually been having fun instead of being stuck in a chair for an hour.

You rejoice internally when you can finally tap him and croak out, "Finished."

Sebek pulls himself back upward and rests his head on your shoulder once more, his hand cozying against your thigh and gently rubbing against your sore skin (a silent apology). He nods and hums in approval, and you can feel a mix of pride and suspense blooming in your heart. As his eyes scan over the last question at an achingly slow pace, you feel tears welling in your eyes when he slides his hand inside your thigh upwards towards your crotch. Finally, some relief....

SMACK!

"Wrong," Sebek sighs, "Didn't I tell you before that you have to pay attention to your negative numbers? You threw off your whole equation."

He grabs your pencil and erases your incorrect attempt and demands you try again. He ignores your sobs, both from that painful slap and the fact that, at this point, it's been a whole hour and you haven't cum ONCE. It stings deep in his chest to hear you so upset, but you can't be rewarded yet. You're so close. Sebek can't break because this is genuinely all for you. He just wants to help you become the best student you can be. He knows you can achieve it, so if he has to sit here all day with you, then he will. Because he loves you that much.

There is no forbearance for your second attempt, either. Your marks are promptly erased, not even a minute after he looks it over. When he tsks and shakes his head, you feel like you're dying. He does sigh and gently wipe the tears from your eyes, but your cunt is sobbing as well, drenching his aching cock that you still swallow entirely. You soak the green, well trimmed hair at his base, and it dribbles down his balls, painful and all too ready to burst.

Sebek rests against the chair once more to keep you from leaning back into him. This prevents him from becoming too tempted to say "fuck it" to his plan and all his hard work and take you immediately. Now he gives you encouraging words, mumbling soft "I love you's", under his breath and, "Doing.. So well..."

"Keep going.."

"So close..."

The third time Sebek leans over and checks your work, he nods and slams his hands onto the table so hard your pencil goes flying. He shoots up from his chair, causing you to fall forward onto the black wood. You can't push yourself back up because a hand clamps down on the back of your neck and forces your head to rest against your worksheet. The slow drag of his cock as it slides out to the tip is the only warning he gives you before he immediately slams back into you. The force of his hips causes the table to jut out under your weight, and before it can even fully bounce back to normal he's already drilling his cock deep into you, sending the table flying forwards again, and again, and again. Sebek throws his head back and let's out a deep guttral moan as if he'd been waiting his entire life to finally stuff your pretty cunt.

His pace is relentless, and neither of you lasts longer than a few minutes. All the waiting and no relief built pressure deep inside the both of you that needed to be out. He folds over you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back into his chest as he babbles on and on.

"Your reward..." He groans deep into your ear as he smushes a sloppy kiss against your lobe. "Do you like it? You get the privilege of carrying our hatchlings. Enjoy it, love."

That's your breaking point. You crumple in his hold, and his arms crushing your body into his as he fucks into you is the only thing currently keeping you from slipping off the table. Lord knows your now weak knees aren't helping any. Drool drags across your chin and smears directly against your worksheet. He went on and on, praising your patience and resolve, and telling you how happy he is to have a partner like you, but you'd barely registered anything he'd said after calling you "love."

You both fail to realize that, one, you might be a tad bit too loud for his dormmates and, two, now Lilia might be more than aware than ever that you two aren't actually "studying". Especially when you scream and cum hard on his cock, gripping the table edge for dear life as your orgasm rips through your body.

You're barely able to move, so you allow Sebek to use you like a fleshlight until he finishes himself (not long after you). His hips stutter and jerk frantically at first before he shoots, hot and deep into your core. Then, his instincts spurs him further; gentle, shallow grinding against your ass that leaves him shuddering.

Tears prick his eyes as he collapses on top of you, squishing your drool stained face against your currently damp and drool covered paper. The rest of his cum comes in spurts, and his hips tremble against your ass as he pushes himself as far as he can possibly reach into your pussy (which, given his size, means he's pretty cramped in there).

Once he pulls out, it takes a while for him to finally relax into your body. He breathes in huffs while one hand lightly rubs circles on your hip, and the other carefully stuffs his cum back inside of you. As much as he can manage while not looking, anyway. It's a bit overstimulating with him basically fingering you lazily after you just came, but you're too tired to do anything about it.

And after some time has passed, when he finally lifts his head to see your zoned out and thoroughly pleased expression, he smiles to himself.

See? You can focus on your work. You just need a little encouragement and a nice reward.

This blog revolves around Dead dove content.

If you're not okay with seeing that, this is fine! I just don't wanna hear about it, mkay?♡ Some people come here for this type of content, so you see something you don't like, just keep scrolling, dude. And if there's absolutely nothing dead dove about the current post, then don't tread my Tumblr and get all shocked when you see nasty stuff. Okay? Alright, thanks. :)

[2af-afterdark]

Lord of the Mountain

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Content: Malleus x afab!Yuu|Player (you/your), fantasy au, oral sex (Yuu recieving), Malleus is a dragon-man and we monster fuckers shall feed, yuu is shy, first times, yuu is a virgin, double dicks for our dragon✌️ A/N: Planned for this to be longer, but the spot I hit was cute sooo... Also, you know, real life is kicking me in the teeth right now Word Count: 912

Malleus – the fabled terrible lord of the mountain whose moods controlled the very weather and earth around him; whose happiness made crops grow plentiful and healthy and whose anger split the sky with lightning and thunder – held your knees apart to admire the space between your legs that you'd been trying to hide by closing them. His emerald eyes bore into you, a thousand questions dancing at the tip of his tongue but not one being asked as he concerned himself more with studying every inch of your beauty; the shape of your hips, the build of your frame, the swell of your breasts hidden behind the cup of your hands, the shyness on your face as you looked away from him, he etched all of you into his eyes and committed it to his very long-lived memory.

He intended for more senses than simply his sight to admire you. He buried his head between your legs, pressing his lips against your lower ones. His long, black tongue dragged through your wet folds, then effortlessly doubled back to get another taste of your chastity. 

He savored the flavor of your arousal, demonstrating the restraint of a saint so as to not ravish you entirely despite his desires. You were, at the end of the day, only human and he had to use a delicate hand when handling you or else you may just break beneath his claws. 

But when he glanced upward, you were not looking at him. Your eyes were turned away, while your lip was practically red from how fiercely you had been biting it to muffle your own voice. You were the perfect visage of nervousness and anxiety, but he intended to chase that expression away.

His hands slid beneath your buttocks, lifting your hips enough to lift them into the air and press firmly against his mouth so he could slip his tongue inside of you. The small, surprised gasp you made as he licked the sides of your inner walls threatened to test his patience. After all, you were a feast. So much so that he had to forcefully pull himself away before he devoured you whole.

Malleus pulled away from your dripping hole. “That should be enough to allow your body to accept me.”

“My lord,” you said with warm cheeks as you stared away from your own nudity, trying to ignore how your lower half burned and throbbed with want after what he had done, “I don't think there is a human alive who could welcome all of you.”

He didn't have a frame of reference to compare himself to a human male, but surely he wasn't that much larger. Not enough to be of concern at the very least.

He repositioned himself between your legs, sitting up so he could rest his hardness – both of them – against your mound. The hand holding your left leg open was replaced by a tail curling around your thigh so Malleus could press a spot on your lower stomach.

“They will only reach to here.”

Only.

As if the place he was touching wasn't a hair's breadth from your belly button. As if you were supposed to find it comforting as he brushed his fingers over that spot. As if you weren’t lying under a man – well, a dragon technically speaking – for the first time.

“My lord, that's still quite the feat.”

“Is it? It seems normal for a female dragon to take this much. Are humans different?”

“I wouldn't know, my lord.”

The corners of his mouth pulled slightly downward. “We've spoken about using titles and you’ve already uttered mine three times.”

You felt your face grow warm in shame and embarrassment as he pointed out your behavior. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to referring to you by name yet.”

“Even now?” He asked.

“Even now,” you confirmed.

“Shall we delay the ceremony until you're more comfortable?” He continued to ask, but the way his erections twitched against your entrance in anticipation told you that he was eager to proceed.

“No, my lord.” As nervous as a part of you was, you wanted the same thing deep down. “I'm ready and willing. Please allow me to officially be your bride.”

Bride was the term given to those residents – male or female, man or woman, old or young, rich or poor – of your village and many others nearby that were sent as a sacrifice to the lord of the mountain. When the fields were barren and the water ran dry, they were expected to throw themselves at the lord's mercy and convince him to grant prosperity to their families and neighbors. But you would be different than all his previous brides, because you would be the first one to truly be his mate – or, that was the term he used, at least, but it sounded so animalistic that you still chose to use the phrase you were more accustomed to.

As soon as he had your permission, you could feel something fat pressed against your entrance, already pushing its way inside.

An unease rose up in your stomach for what you knew would happen next. “M- my lord?”

“It's only one and I shall be gentle,” he promised as he leaned over you. He laid his palm against yours to lace his fingers with yours. “Tell me if you would like to stop.”

“I don't plan to,” you replied as you curled your fingers around his. “Please continue.”

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - Free Day 3 - 22. Caretaker Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Y'shtola Rhul Rating: Explicit Summary: Zoissette has many needs right now, and Y'shtola will take care of all of them. Notes: WoL|Sette timeline. CW: Frank sexual discussion, sexual activity

Zoissette was tired, but the good kind of tired. The tired of muscles that had been worked. The tired that came from accomplishment, from success. The tired that came from stretching one's limits. The tired that came from heat pumping through the heart.

The tired that came from physical therapy.

She was well on the way to recovery. Not quite yet ready to fully leave her rooms, not quite fully ready to tend to herself fully. She could, of course, she could. She wanted to, even. But she needed to rest, frequently, and she needed to sleep quite a lot, and the Scions were eager to see after her.

After she had scared them so badly coming back barely alive from beyond the edge of everything, she felt it best to indulge them.

Besides, though she did not want to admit it, it was kind of nice being taken care of.

Y'shtola helped her back towards her bed, ready to support Zoissette should she need it, and she almost might have. A small warm smile played on her face, eyes lazy, feeling languid after the day's work. Her mind played from thought to thought, free like clouds drifting through the sky. Y'shtola carefully got her into her bed, and made sure she was settled in, water and books within reach.

"Is there ought else you might desire from me, before I take my leave?"

"Hmn. Not right now," said Zoissette lazily, already feeling foggy sleepiness starting to drift in to her thoughts. She looked Y'shtola up and down, admiring her form, settling almost a touch too long on her breasts, but finding her way up to her eyes.

Y'shtola just smiled back and raised an eyebrow.

Zoissette laid down, and rolled over. "Maybe you could wear a maid outfit for me," she said, dreamily, already well on her way to sleep.

Y'shtola's ears went back.

"Not one of the traditional ones of course, all dowdy and duty," continued an oblivious Zoissette, "but one of those fancy ones that they call the Isghardian style, which is of course ridiculous, our maids look the same as anyone else's and don't have such interesting bustiers..."

"I beg your pardon," said Y'shtola, sharply.

Zoissette was suddenly very awake. She blinked and turned to see an annoyed Y'shtola.

"Oh! Oh. Uhm. Ahm. Sorry! Sorry. I forgot myself."

Y'shtola closed her eyes, and took a deep breath in.

"No. Nevermind. Forget I said anything," said Zoissette hurriedly, turning over and burying her head under her blankets. "I - I was just - after everything - very tired. Sorry. Please. Thank you for everything. I - I am going to sleep now."

Zoissette curled up under the blankets, and made a pained noise.

Y'shtola grimaced, reaching a hand out, wanting to help, wanting to do something to ease her friend.

But she held back, and considered.

"I shall see you on the morrow, then," she said gently. "Good night, Sette."

"...good night, Shtola."

Satisfied for the time being, Y'shtola headed out the door, and slipped quietly into the evening.

It was good, then, that Zoissette went to sleep early and woke up late these days. It gave Y'shtola a little bit of time to work. Not much, but enough. Tataru was willing to help, and able to keep a secret. F'lhaminn's twinkling eyes above her smile showed she knew more than she had been told, but was also an able accomplice. And so it was, that the next day, that F'lhaminn made sure the general word had been put out that this was a day Zoissette was absolutely under no circumstances to be bothered, that she needed a true rest day to herself, and would survive a day without being mothered and smothered by well meaning friends.

F'lhaminn herself saw to Zoissette's breakfast, as was expected, and Zoissette was yet none the wiser. Y'shtola had to see to some last minute things, last minute adjustments, but she managed to make it to Zoissette's door just before morning passed into noon. Putting her hand on the latch, she leaned in to listen, and then knocked.

"Come in, please."

Y'shtola teased the door open a bit, looking in to see Zoissette in bed, a book in her hand, looking towards the door. She opened the door the rest of the way, and let herself in, being sure to latch the door behind her.

She felt a thrill of delight at the way Zoissette's eyes went wide, the way she slowly looked Y'shtola up and down, taking her all in. The way the tips of her ears began to turn red, and her cheeks began to blush. Zoissette grabbed the edge of her sheet, and pulled it up to her chin, as though she suddenly had to cover herself.

Y'shtola was dressed, head to toe, in a lascivious maid outfit. The bustier pressing up at her breasts, covering them and yet also putting them well on display, the white fabric that covered them standing out against the black that followed under the contour of the swell of her chest. Puffy shoulders that ended quickly, revealing bare arms that ended in little ribboned cuffs. A skirt that was ended halfway down the leg, with the appearance of an apron sewn onto its front. White opaque stockings that accentuated the exact shape of her legs, and little black shoes with a single strap to keep them on, and a smart button to keep the strap in place.

She relaxed her usual sense of self control, and let her tail have a mind of its own, swaying back and forth, high as it was, playing with the many ruffles the outfit had. Y'shtola smiled, and gave Zoissette a deep curtsy, making sure to emphasize the movement of her bust as she did so, before coming back up to stand, one hand on her outwardly cocked him, and smiling coquettishly all the while.

"How may I serve the master?" she crooned, strolling over to the side of the bed to climb up on it. Zoissette stared at her, hands still clutching the sheets to her chest.

"You do not have to do this for me," said Zoissette.

"And yet I have," said Y'shtola, throwing a leg over Zoissette's body, coming to straddle the woman, knees on either side of her hips. She curled a finger under Zoissette's chin, trying to look her in the eyes.

Zoissette averted her gaze, staring off to the side.

"You have well heeded my no, but will you accept my yes?" prodded Y'shtola.

"You don't have to do this for me," repeated Zoissette.

"Perhaps I wish to. Though if this is your no, I shall accept it; and we needs not explore this further if you do not wish. But if you think only of my prior rejection, then set that aside. My wishes must be taken into account if this is to work, and I must needs be free to change my mind, if not yours."

Zoissette's eyes fell, and she was quiet for a moment, before looking back to Y'shtola.

"I like this," she said, her voice small.

Y'shtola made a thoughtful hum noise deep in the back of her throat.

"Then tell me what you want."

Zoissette swallowed, and then tentatively reached up, and pulled Y'shtola into a kiss. Their lips met, warm and wet, and Zoissette pulled, really pulled Y'shtola in. Y'shtola marred appreciatively as fingers wound through her hair, firm against her scalp.

It would be so easy to melt against her, to melt into her.

But instead Y'shtola placed a gently on Zoissette's chest, and gently pushed herself away. Zoissette immediately broke contact, letting her hand fall away from where it had been.

"No. I find I must insist. Tell me, Sette. Tell me. What you. Want."

She sat back, leaning back a little on her hands. She watched as Zoissette's lips thinned. As her eyes began to water a bit. As she bit her lower lip nervously. As her eyes darted to and fro, searching Y'shtola.

For her part, she tried to be as an open book. She let her tail wander free, still curious, still swishing behind her. Ears remaining forward, open. She was serious, but not angry.

She wanted to know. She had to hear it from Zoissette's mouth, in Zoissette's way.

"I want you," said Zoissette at last.

Y'shtola gave her a look.

"How delightfully detailed."

"Please, let me finish," pleaded Zoissette. "I want... I want you, Shtola. I - I want you. You're - you are - you're beautiful to me. I love you, and I want you, and I feel ridiculous. It's not like I can't, cannot, talk about sex. I have had sex! We've had sex!"

Y'shtola reached forward, and took Zoissette's hands as words began spilling out of her.

"I have talked about sex before! With others, true, but still. I mean, I remember the first man I took to bed. He - he wanted oral, and we talked about it. I remembered anticipating that talk coming, I remember reading, I remember getting advice..."

Y'shtola bit her lip so as not to laugh at the mental image of a young and studious Zoissette Vauban looking at whatever passed for what would have had to have been Ishgardian books about sex.

"And after we were done, he seemed to like it at the time. Later on he complained, though. He said - the way I spoke about it. That I was like a whore. He meant it to insult. He was trying to hurt me, and that - that did hurt. The way he said it. Not what he said, though. I was... proud of that later, to be honest. I mean, he had compared me to a professional. You know? I was rather pleased with myself. Me! A professional at sex! And I have explored such things before! I've - another one. He, uhm, he wanted to tie me up. That took a lot of talking really, a lot of work. I... I think he liked the idea of me being helpless."

Y'shtola felt a tiny bit of a warm squirm at the idea of being helpless, a tiny distant twitch. She squashed it for now.

"We learned rope work together, and that was... enjoyable enough. And I remember one, someone wanted me to use a strap-on on his ass. I had to ask him a few times to be sure, and we had to be very careful, but he certainly enjoyed it very much. And I must confess, that experience did have a certain degree of delight to it."

Zoissette was babbling, and Y'shtola interrupted her, as gently as she could manage.

"I am fair certain that I do not wish to hear about your entire tumbling history, Sette."

"Sorry! Sorry. I'm, I am, I am rambling, it's just... I didn't want them. I liked them well enough, you know. I was being accommodating, it made them happy, I was curious, it was nice. It was nice! But."

Zoissette's hands clenched around Y'shtola's, squeezing tight.

"I want you. And I can feel that. It's overwhelming. I feel it, swelling up in my chest. Pressing against my ribs. Like I am going to burst."

She was breathing hard, and Y'shtola reached up behind Zoissette's head, and pulled closer once more, touching their foreheads together, looking up at her through her bangs, sharpening her aethersight until real colour, the true deep browns in Zoissette's eyes, could be seen.

"I am more than willing to explore such things with you, Sette. But you have to tell me what they are."

"I do not want to screw this up, Y'shtola."

"Our relationship is not so fragile as to not survive a few very frank discussions."

"I do not want to upset you."

Y'shtola sighed. She had thought about this, and had ready a response.

"And I find I must needs apologize for my earlier reaction," she said. "It 'twas because I am Miqo'te. My people, fair or not, have a reputation, and as such I have received far too many propositions from those who view me as just an object for their pleasure. Little more than a thing, free for the taking. You are not the cause for my poor reception, and should not have been the recipient of my ire."

"Uhm. Wait. I'm thinking. Uhm. What if... what if I wanted to treat you like that?"

Y'shtola smirked. "Then perhaps I would acquiesce to be owned by a kindly master for a short time, if you wish to speak of such further. 'Tis different between us, as you might well guess."

Zoissette frowned, thinking. "What if I wanted to be treated like an object?"

"That's the spirit," said Y'shtola encouragingly. "There is that curious mind which I so adore."

Zoissette shifted a bit under Y'shtola, then gently pushed against her. "Please move. I think... I think I want to lay down."

Y'shtoal acquiesced, moving off of her, letting Zoissette lower herself on the bed, until she was laying on her side, facing away from Y'shtola. After a moment's thought, Y'shtola followed her.

It was a little ridiculous that she was in bed wearing her shoes. And they were not very comfortable. She would need to speak to her haberdasher if this was to be a common thing. At least the stockings were rather comfortable. It was a little ridiculous to be thinking of this just now. She pressed up against Zoissette's back, and Zoissette leaned back into her.

"I do not even mind that you got upset," said Zoissette, her breathing now slow once more. "Not really. You have a temper, but it is rarely mean. You can be blunt. Honest. I love that about you." She twisted, shifting, trying to look over her shoulder back at Y'shtola. "I do not want that to change. But I think I might be scared. You are just... I do not know."

Y'shtola gave her space, as she rolled the rest of the way over.

"I like that you're blunt. That you are blunt. Frank. But you are not always blunt. Sometimes you tease, I can tell. When you are honest, you get that stern voice. When you tease, you are charming instead. Threatening to put me over your knee."

"Remember that, do we?"

"Calling Magnai little sun."

Y'shtola allowed herself a wicked smile at that.

"And most of the time it's fine. It is fine! But it was different when I proposed the maid outfit. You were mad, and I got scared, and... maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should be braver."

Zoissette sighed heavily. "I usually am ... better. You've been mad at me before. That has never scared me. You always have a reason."

"Usually."

"You usually have a reason."

Zoissette reached out a hand, to play her fingers through Y'shtola's hair, even as she looked elsewhere.

"I would like to propose an accord," said Y'shtola.

Zoissette looked up. Met her eyes.

"You must ask for that which you desire, and ever so long as you heed my no, I promise you need not fear my ire on the matter, as I shall not allow it to turn into a true anger. I shall return to you the same courtesy. But this also means you must needs allow me my yes. You may change your mind as well, if you wish, but you must allow me space to say my own yes. Do you understand?"

Zoissette nodded, slowly, and Y'shtola reached up a hand to touch her face.

"Very well. Then tell me, what do you want?"

Zoissette's eyes searched Y'shtola's face, and she reached up to touch Y'shtola's hand in turn. She was close enough that Y'shtola could feel her tense.

"Maybe I want to ruin you," she said. "Maybe I want to take that strap on and lift your tail and find your asshole and pound until you cry. Maybe I want to see what it looks like when Y'shtola Rhul loses her composure and breaks and loses herself in the moment."

Y'shtola drew in a sharp breath, surprised, and almost drew back.

Almost.

Instead she turned to that squirming that had lit up inside of her, and seized her own fears and feelings, and sunk herself into them, claws and teeth and wickedness.

Her nails bit lightly into Zoissette's cheek. Anger turned to heat. She turned it to her own ends. Was she not Y'shtola Rhul?

"Maybe I will let you," she returned. "Or maybe I want you to force me to, oh warrior. Embrace your darkness, and let my shadow swallow you."

Zoissette's breath hitched, and the tips of her ears turned red once more, and her breath became rapid. She pulled back, sitting up suddenly, and began waving her hands in the air.

Y'shtola, feeling the tiniest bit of a smug sense of self-satisfaction at seeing Zoissette's control slip in this tiniest fraction, propped herself up one one arm to watch with a wry smile.

"Too much," said Zoissette. "Oh Fury, that was too much. But..." she turned, and her words began to spill out in a flood. "Really? Are you sure you want to try? You are willing to try? Should we try? Oh, gods. I want that. I want you. I want your everything, Shtola. Right now I have never felt more that I want everything I want to explore everything oh my gods I want to bury my fingers deep in your quim I want to hear you scream I want. Oh, I want. What is happening right now? What am I even doing? What are we doing?"

"Shh shh shh shh shh," said Y'shtola, following up after Zoissette, wrapping her arms around her and pulling close to her, holding her, rocking with her gently while her lover edged towards having a meltdown. "Take a moment. Collect yourself. Breathe. Think."

Zoissette trembled in Y'shtola's arms.

"Think past maybe," said Y'shtola. "You are curious, you are exploring, you are asking questions, but I still wish to have your answer true. Forget yourself. Let go. Be with me, in this moment. Tell me, Zoissette. Right now, what, more than anything, do you truly want?"

Zoissette looked over at Y'shtola, shaking. And in the smallest voice, she said, "Hold me."

And Y'shtola held her. As she buried her head in Y'shtola's chest, and began to cry. Her body began to shake with the force of overwhelming emotion, and Y'shtola could feel it. Could feel how her core quaked, how her shoulders shuddered.

She felt hands clutching to her as though she were a lifeline.

"I'm sorry," sobbed Zoissette.

"It's alright," said Y'shtola, gently. "I've got you."

And that set off a torrent anew. Zoissette's face scrunched, jaw tight, tried to get ahold of herself. Curling tighter. Holding tighter.

Several long minutes passed in the room, just like that. Y'shtola just watched over Zoissette. Held her. Just held her, as she processed whatever this was. Grief? Fear? Y'shtola did not know.

She just knew it was real, and that right now, there was nothing more she wanted than to be here, to help Zoissette through it.

A perverse thought passed her mind. That she may have been privileged to be here for this. To be trusted so, despite, well.

Despite being a blunt and honest and sharp-tongued kind of woman.

But Zoissette saw her as a safe haven, and she knew, in that moment, she would rather die than ever betray that.

Y'shtola swallowed, thickly. Matters for later. After the storm had passed.

And pass it did. Zoissette's tears slowed, and stopped. She got her breathing under control, first in big gasps, then in shallows, then gradually, calm, slow breaths. Her shaking became trembles became a stillness.

"Remind me," she said, her voice quiet, resting against Y'shtola.

"Sette?" asked Y'shtola, gently.

"I am tired of being tired of being this. I am exhausted. Kiss me. Feel me. Touch me. Eat me. Remind me that I'm alive. Remind me that... I am wanted."

She sniffed. "I want you to take care of me." She rubbed her face. "Fury, I'm snotty and gross."

Fortunately, Y'shtola had made sure the maid outfit had come with some accoutrements. Zoissette, after all, did still need a proper caretaker to check on her throughout the day. She reached into a pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, and handed it to Zoissette, who took it gratefully and wiped her face down before blowing her nose.

"Sorry."

"And for what are you apologizing? For having feelings? Needs? The high crime of being human, perhaps?"

Zoissette snorted a laugh, not a derisive thing, just a noise she could not help. She further made a most unladylike noise, cleared her nose the rest of the way, and then gave a warmer, clearer laugh.

Y'shtola smiled. It was a little gross.

And that was surprisingly okay.

"Feeling better?"

Zoissette nodded, setting the handkerchief aside.

"Then lay down," said Y'shtola, sitting on the side of the bed to take off her shoes. She heard Zoissette shuffle in the bed behind her.

She considered her approach, unbuckling her shoes and setting them aside neatly, one by one. She stood up, and looked over her shoulder, to see Zoissette laying down. And to see that she had Zoissette's full attention. The woman was quiet, now. The storm had well and truly passed, and she was just... attentive. Y'shtola swished her tail, and was gratified to see Zoissette's focus and attention shift. She slowly reached down, under her skirt, and hooked her thumbs into her smalls, and slowly, swaying her hips, pulled them off.

She looked again. The mood of the room had shifted. She certainly had Zoissette's full, complete, and judging from the glassiness of her eyes, lusty attention. She turned, and winked, pressing her smalls into Zoissette's hand.

"Hold these for me, master," she said, placing emphasis on the last word. And she laughed at the choking noise Zoissette made.

This was silly. She -was- silly. And perhaps silliness is what was needed, in the wake of what had come before.

"I think I shall enjoy continuing our conversation," she purred, as she put one knee on the bed, and leaned over far enough to kiss Zoissette. A soft, gentle, teasing thing that she slowly leaned into, just enough to really get the feel of Zoissette's lips, before pulling back. She pulled the blanket back, and began to reach for Zoissette's smalls.

"No," said Zoissette. "Let me."

Y'shtola nodded, and sat back, and watched. Zoissette looked down at herself, and reached down, and arched her back to lift her butt as she shimmied her smalls down her legs. Y'shtola appreciated the scene on view. Zoissette was still in recovery, technically. She still had some trouble getting around. She was having a bit of trouble now, but Y'shtola recognized the impulse for what it was, the desire to do things for oneself. And so she content to just watch.

And despite all that, Zoissette was still everything to Y'shtola. She admired the scene, as cotton slid over soft brown skin and powerful muscular thighs. As Zoissette curled, making the quietest pained whimpering noise at the effort, at having to flex so far, to get them around her kneecaps. And her heart soared as at last Zoissette had them down her calves, then around an ankle, then kicked off unceremoniously off to one side of the bed.

Zoissette laid down, throwing her head back, and sucked in a sharp breath, and Y'shtola laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you well to continue?"

Zoissette nodded. "...just not as flexible as I should be yet. Aches. I'm alright."

"Very well," said Y'shtola. She sat back and allowed herself a moment more. Her love, bottomless. Even in this state, she was beautiful to Y'shtola.

She would always be beautiful, for she was Zoissette, and precious.

And also, her quim was right there.

"You may want to prop yourself up with a pillow," said Y'shtola, and Zoissette did so. Once she was resettled, Y'shtola crawled up next to her, and threw a leg over her, straddling her once more.

Just the other way around this time. She laid down on Zoissette, finding a position to be reasonably comfortable in, and once she was satisfied, she reached down, and hiked her skirt up, exposing her lower half, to offer Zoissette something to look at. And grumbled a bit as her tail interfered with the motion, before she just sat up and pulled it to a more cooperative position. Hands on her hips, she nodded her head, and then lowered herself once more, hiking her skirts up again.

She could not see Zoissette's face anymore. But situated as she was, she could feel her, feel the way her breath was shifting, feel her stomach tightening, feel that control asserting itself.

Y'shtola was going to find each and every way past that one day.

But for now, she was at last, satisfied with the setup, and finally lowered her head, rubbing her nose in Zoissette's pubic hair, appreciating the feel of it against her cheek as she nuzzled it, and gave one of Zoissette's thighs the gentlest of kisses.

"May I touch?" asked Zoissette.

"You may."

Zoissette was still far taller than her. While she had her face in Zoissette's crotch, there was no reasonable way for Zoissette to return the favor in kind, not exactly. She did not mind. And she did not mind when she felt Zoissette's hands on her ass, and tracing the outsides of her thighs. She let her tail have its way, swishing and swaying, the ruffles of her skirt playing around her butt, bumping into Zoissette's hands and arms, and she wiggled her hips, attempting to entice, showing off.

She fancied herself a gift for Zoissette and Zoissette alone.

And she was giving a show for Zoissette alone to enjoy while Y'shtola herself built up to the main event. She continued to pepper Zoissette's thigh with kisses, finishing with just the tiniest nip, just the lightest touch of teeth to skin. Behind her, she heard Zoissette's breath hitch, while under her, she felt it, felt the twitch of her chest as she gasped. She hummed, deeply and lovingly, and she ran her hands down toned thighs, digging her fingers in just enough to find the texture of muscles. Powerful, almost like thick corded braids, and she took her time to appreciate them.

And Zoissette appreciated the attention in turn, making the most delightful soft noises, her legs slowly spreading apart as she warmed to Y'shtola's touch. As Y'shtola in turn returned to kisses, now on the other thigh. As her hands continued to explore. Pressing against the outside of a buttcheek. Playing along the upper leg. Lightly, experimentally, from time to time, touching Zoissette's outer lips. Feeling Zoissette's breathing grow deep, hear it become throaty. Buring her face deep in the woman's crotch and breathing in deep, noticing and delighting in the change in scent.

At last, however, Y'shtola grew tired of where she was. She simply could not get a good angle like this, not with the way Zoissette was sitting. She pulled away, and Zoissette made a disappointed noise as her hands left her ass. Y'shtola simply looked at her primly as she held her skirts around her waist, climbing off Zoissette and sitting to one side on her knees.

"Sit up and spread your legs if you will, master," she said. Zoissette's face flushed, and she hurried to shift position. "Knees up," she commanded, and Zoissette nodded, bending her knees. Y'shtola moved around to be between them, and rested her hands on Zoissette's knees for a moment, enjoying the sight.

And then she shifted around and made herself comfortable. She was in no rush. The only thing she wished was maybe an opportunity to pull off the maid outfit. She would need to be asking Tataru later about a setup which perhaps featured a blouse and skirt, instead, if she were to make a habit of this.

But that was a problem for later. For now, she had momentum, and she intended to capitalize on it.

But first.

"Is this still alright?" she asked.

Zoissette swallowed, and then nodded. "Yes. Please. Please keep going. I need this. I need you."

Oh, too easy.

"You need me? To what end..." and she paused, waited, luxuriated.

"...master?" said Y'shtola, voice low, dark.

"If you do not eat my quim I will explode," said Zoissette desperately.

Y'shtola laughed, and she kept laughing as she lowered herself slowly, and let her laugh trail off as she got close, and locked her eyes onto Zoissette's as she almost made contact.

Zoissette was tense, still. The anticipation was present in every ilm of her being. Her body was almost iron.

Y'shtola winked, closed her eyes, and her lips met Zoissette's, wetness of tongue meeting the wetness of Zoissette's body, and she heard Zoissette gasp with the release of the breath she had been holding.

She hummed appreciatively, and pushed her tongue between Zoissette's folds. She wanted to take it slow. To take her time. To really appreciate the moment and show her appreciation in turn. But the teasing, the conversation, the openness, the everything was upon her, and she was suddenly aware of a hunger she did not even fully realize she had.

She wanted to hear Zoissette scream, and she wanted it to be her name, and she wanted to push Zoissette over the edge, and she wanted. Oh, she understood what Zoissette meant, she wanted. And so she abandoned herself. Her tongue was in Zoissette as far as it could go, eager, hungry, licking, first one side, then the other. She arched her back and scooted forward, one hand holding her steady against Zoissette's thigh, the other finding its way in, fingers reaching deep into Zoissette's quim. She struggled to control herself, shaking slightly. She had to control herself. Her lips needed to find Zoissette's clit first. She needed to, and there. She puckered, and kissed the clit deeply, her lips around it, her tongue pressing against it, as she made space for her fingers, and pressed.

The suddenness and speed of her attack rocketed up Zoissette's body, and the hand she had on the thigh had to move to push down against Zoissette's stomach, to remind the other woman to stay in place. She felt Zoissette's body tense, felt her lock, her breathing having gone rapid.

"Oh gods oh fury oh gods," panted Zoissette. "Too much too much too much," and Y'shtola, though reluctant, relented, eased off, backed away.

"No no no more more more," said Zoissette immediately. "Don't stop don't stop please don't AH!" she screamed, as Y'shtola needed no further encouragement.

Her lips held suction tight. Her tongue pressed hard. Her fingers, curled, and she jerked her hand inside of Zoissette until, at last, Zoissette boiled over, screaming her name, hands on either side of her head and fingers clenching and clenching against her scalp, Zoissette still controlling herself. Resisting actually grabbing, resisting actually forcing Y'shtola's head to stay in place.

Not that she would have minded. Conversation for late. As it was, she was holding herself in place perfectly find, even though she well had to use her whole body to do so.

Zoissette caught her breath once more, gasping. "More," she said, hoarsely, and Y'shtola was but too happy to oblige. She pressed in again, tongue and lips and hands and face and pressure built up to release, and Zoissette's legs wrapped around her, and she surprised, near crushed by the force.

Zoissette curled tight, and Y'shtola freed herself enough to look up, to see her face, scrunched in focus and concentration as she bore down. She almost needed not do anything, as she just kept her fingers inside Zoissette, moving them rhythmically, and let another wave crash through Zoissette.

This time, Zoissette went limp, practically throwing herself back down on the bed. When she spoke, it was between gasps.

"Okay. No more. I'm done. That's it. Oh, gods, Shtola. I think I'm dead. Oh, gods, it hurts like I'm dead."

Y'shtola became aware of her own breathing, heavy, almost panting. She reached a hand up, to gently stroke Zoissette's side. Zoissette twitched, but did not pull away from the gesture, instead reaching down her own hand to touch Y'shtola's, encouraging it to stay.

"Are you quite alright?" said Y'shtola, truly concerned. That had been rather more than she had planned for for the day. And, in retrospect, possibly more than Zoissette could handle.

"My legs are killing me. My stomach is killing me. I have never been better. Let me die here like this. It's a good death."

"No such thing," chided Y'shtola, but her tone was light, teasing. Relieved, she extricated herself from between Zoissette's legs, and moved up to hold her in her arms. Zoissette, gratefully, rolled to collapse against her.

"Thank you," said Zoissette at last.

Y'shtola played with her hair, and nuzzled the top of her head.

"Have you been sufficiently reminded, my love?" she murmured into Zoissette's ear.

Zoissette looked confused for a moment, but then her face lit up, and she smiled, contented, and sighed happily.

"I am alive," she said.

"And desired," said Y'shtola, and kissed her once more.

[annaofaza]

This reminds me of this scene from TriStamp, where Legato's telling Wolfwood that in order to become the perfect tool for Knives and the Eye of Michael:

Wolfwood doesn't need love and connections; those need to die to be the best soldier. Chapel's espoused it, too. It's a fairly common theme for others (mostly elders but that's another meta) to call heroes to not be tethered to earthly attachments. (We see it in Avatar, for instance, and Star Wars... And look how well that ended up for the Jedi and Anakin.)

Evangelicals especially believe that perfect faith means living to go to heaven. To be a true believer means to commit yourself wholly to worship. You're not an individual. I think of Jane Grey's last letter to her sister, Katherine, before she was beheaded after refusing Queen Mary's offer to convert to Catholicism to save her life:

"[This Bible that she sent Katherine] will teach you to live and learn you to die ... Now as touching on my death, rejoice as I do, my dearest sister, that I shall for losing of a mortal life, win one that is immortal, joyful, and everlasting..."

Legato believes himself the perfect soldier for Knives, to whom he's devoted his life. And we all know how pretty obsessed and rabid he is to the mission. (You didn't need to invent the killing game, buddy.)

But emotions and connections are what makes us human! Legato and Chapel's philosophies are what Vash rejects! That's what his friends, both alive and deceased, have come to believe, who are arguably richer for having those things in their lives.

And Legato himself isn't immune to petty, earthly desires:

See also: Legato sobbing as he sees nearly-dead Knives post-July:

What does Legato get for his tears, his (pretty much) life-long devotion? Disgust, Knives telling him that it's "annoying," and to basically shut up. SPOILER: And ultimately, his own death.

What does Wolfwood get?

Still death—but genuine peace, knowing he's loved by his old home and his friend. Who buries him, who mourns him, who (figuratively—in '98, this is quite literal) carries him as a talisman to the end. I'd argue that Wolfwood is more fulfilled by his relationship with one of two so-called angels—in all his doubt, fear, anger, and cutting arguments.

And afterwards? SPOILER: Knives doesn't get a mourning panel for Legato or even a simple complaint of "you killed my best servant." Wolfwood is beloved. Wolfwood is remembered by Vash, by Livio, by the people of No Man's Land (so says "Les Enfants"). Wolfwood is the one who's immortal.

I mean, at the end of the day, you can argue: Who cares? Both of them are dead. That's fair enough. But I think Nightow is conveying much, much more than that.

Side note: In terms of full individual sacrifice, the Bible says different things. (What else is new?) Via Jesus: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” and also “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’” So fuck if I know.

[runawaymun]

okay your QiQi and Hu Tao post is so real, her trying MULTIPLE TIMES to bury Qiqi is so??? Like. A young child dies in an accident of no fault of her own, and at the last second, an adeptus, an immortal powerful protector of the land, decides "this child deserves more than she got. She deserves to live." and revives her so that she can do that, but Hu Tao thinks she knows better? Like yeah your family has been running a funeral parlor for years but you're like 19 and you think you have the authority to overturn the judgement of low-level gods?? Please. Bless Baizhu's patience to keep rescuing Qiqi tbh I would have resorted to violence long ago.

Also, while Baizhu is not my Blorbo I am extremely glad to see a familiar face genshin-posting, I want to follow people on here for that but every time I go into the tags I take psychic damage :( I suppose I shall just have to do it myself but I'm a little intimidated lol

Me every time Hu Tao shows up and starts Some Shit:

I know it's supposed to be like silly goofy and her cluelessness is meant to be endearing, but it's just...not? She is so rude and careless and there comes a point when it is no longer pragmatism about death and steps over the line into "You're just an asshole". The fact that she leaves fliers FOR HER FUNERAL PARLOUR outside THE PHARMACY is just insane behavior. It's disrespectful to Baizhu and it's so fucking insensitive and disrespectful to literally everyone else. God bless Baizhu for insisting that he doesn't have a problem with Director Hu and for being the bigger person/the adult in this situation and so forgiving and patient like it could NOT be me.

Yeah she's nineteen and has trauma, but exactly exactly exactly Qiqi's story says the gods felt so bad that she died because of their conflict that they brought her back to life to right a wrong, and it's so fucking mean that Hu Tao insists that "Qiqi isn't alive" and "that's not any kind of life to live" and "let her be at peace" etc etc like that is not your fucking decision. That's up to Qiqi and Qiqi wants to live god damn you. LEAVE HER ALONE.

Also okay yeah she's 500 years old but that is a child with severe memory loss. Yes she's a jiangshi but she literally gets lost and stuck on her orders sometimes to the point that Baizhu needs to help her find her way home. Qiqi is just out there living her life and Hu Tao said "and I took that personally" LET HER VIBE. I hate that she made so many comments on Qiqi's stiff limbs (read: her fucking disability) that now Qiqi feels really uncomfortable if anyone other than Changsheng, Gaming, and Baizhu see her doing her stretches. I hate that despite Qiqi struggling to remember loved ones' names and faces and interactions with them, she remembers Hu Tao because of the trauma that Hu Tao inflicts on her every time she sees her. Qiqi is actively trying to improve her life with researching memory/brain exercises and doing her calisthenics every day etc etc and the pharmacy literally could not function as it does now without her. She has as much a right to be a member of Liyue's community as Hu Tao does -- and yeah like you said it is so insanely arrogant and hubristic of Hu Tao to assume that she knows better than the fucking minor gods of Liyue.

Literally Baizhu and Qiqi deserve justice and it's just insane to me that the implication is that neither of them decide to press charges on her even though they have to go to the fucking cops about this reoccurring incident. And presumably the cops always side with Baizhu and so like. Again does Hu Tao ever get consequences? Do they at least sanction or fine her??? IDK IDK it makes me so mad that this apparently has happened more than once and the idea of her running off with a child who has memory loss and may not remember who she is or where her home is, she just knows she's scared and that she might literally fucking get buried alive here, makes me physically ill.

anyway I know some people will be like "it's just a game. it's not real and it's not that deep" but I'm still going to hate a fictional character over it. She's an asshole and needs to fucking grow up. Idk maybe she does as she ages. I certainly hope so.

Also hi yes <3 <3 I am so glad you're enjoying the Genshin posting because I am going to be so annoying about it for a while!!! It's nice to find out that you're a fellow Genshin enjoyer. The fandom is uhhhhh crazy. So I feel you on that. I'm slowly collecting some nice people :) Thankfully the Baizhu fans are all pretty cool! I feel like characters like him just attract good energy <3

[ragingbookdragon]

The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll & Mz. Hyde

Task Force 141 x Reader

Word Count: 740 Warnings: Explicit Language, Archaic Medical Tools (and explanation of lobotomy)

Author's Note: Everyone wanted a part two to this so here you go :) Enjoy! Thorne

**********************************************************************

She smiles when the Lieutenant walks into the clinic, no doubt a scowl on his face beneath the mask, but he says nothing as he stands before her desk. Her eyes crinkle at the edges as she says, “Thank you for coming in, Lieutenant Riley.” She looks to the nurse beyond, watching with interest. “Simone, be a dear and lock the door on your way out, yes?”

The woman nods her head and practically skitters out and she rises from her seat, grabbing a rather large black bag; the thing looks like it’s from the sixteen hundreds. “Sit on the exam table, please.”

He does as she asks and takes a seat, watching the wall as she lifts his shirt and examines the bullet wound beneath the gauze.

“Lieutenant, do you recall my one rule I left you with before your mission?” she pauses and looks him directly in the eye.

“Don’t get injured.”

“Correct!” she smiles. “And if you were, what was the next rule?”

“Apply first aid.”

She tuts and pokes the stitched wound, delighting in his hiss of displeasure. “You seemed to have forgotten my second rule. Never mind that, I shall remind you.”

Her hands drift to the bag and she unlatches and opens it, and the man nearly shits his pants at the archaic surgical tools.

“Did you know that my legally given maiden name is Jekyll? Dr. Jekyll asks. “Some think there’s an ancestor of mine that was actually the basis of the novel with the same name.”

She picks up a tool, a drill and turns it.

“I do so love old medical tools. This one was used to drill into skulls. Mostly to relieve headaches or remove stagnant blood from brains. Sometimes even to treat hemorrhages.” She smiles fondly. “It takes a rather tremendous amount of strength to crank this into someone’s skull. I can only imagine what it was like without anesthesia.”

Putting it down, she picks up a mallet and what looks like an icepick.

“Now these are my favorite.” She holds the mallet in one hand, the pick in the other. “These were used to lobotomize people. One would insert the pick behind the eye socket and break through the little barrier of bone by hitting it with the hammer until it was lodged into the frontal lobes.” She does the motion near the side of his head, his eyes on hers as the pick sinks past his ear. “Then you would jiggle it back and forth until the frontal lobes separated from the thalamus! Thus rendering the patient completely catatonic!”

She puts them down and sighs wistfully.

“Did you know I once worked at a mental asylum where lobotomy was still legalized? I was allowed to sit in on several during my stay in medical school. An archaic but rather interesting process.” her smile is anything but sweet, instead it sends shivers up his spine. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to administer one myself. Perhaps one day I’ll get such an opportunity? Maybe on someone who disobeys my rules?”

He swallows hard, a man whose entire family murdered, himself buried alive, seen death a million times, and even delivered it, scared shitless of the woman before him.

He understands now why they call her Misses Hyde when she’s angry, no, infuriated and seething.

“Lieutenant? Are you alright?” she repeats, and he shakes himself, abruptly standing before her.

“I, uh, have to go, Doctor,” he says, and runs for the door like his head is on fire and his ass is catching.

“But I didn’t even show you the electro-shock therapy tools I have!”

“No need!” he shouts, unlocking the door and swinging it open. “I won’t disobey rules again!”

He’s out of the door before she can say anything else and the nurse returns moments later with two cups of coffee.

“Did Lieutenant Riley leave, Doctor Jekyll?” she asks.

“He did,” she pouts and latches the bag back, setting it down behind her desk. “And I have a feeling he won’t be back for some time. I was simply telling him stories. They weren’t even true.”

“Such a shame,” the nurse replies. “He’s awfully handsome.”

“If you like masked men.”

“As if you don’t like the Phantom of the Opera,” the nurse grins, handing her a cup. “You know he’s handsome.”

“Perhaps, he is,” she says back, sipping her coffee with a maniacal grin.

[countrymusiclover]

46 - Creating the new Westeros

part 47

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 9 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog g @lover-of-books-and-tea

Luciya’s pov

Blinking my eyes my vision was blurred in front of me while I moaned, feeling pain from many areas of my body.  Rubbing my eyes I finally raised my head upward and began looking around the area before me.  The building I had crashed into with Shireen was completely destroyed and now just an enormous pile of rubble.  

Shireen made a shrieking voice causing me to turn my head sharply and see her laying on the ground a few feet away from me.  Pushing myself up to stand I rushed over touching the side of her nose seeing her eyes come down to meet mine. “Ohh I’m sorry this happened to you, girl.” She whimpered and I noticed that her right wing was slightly torn from the crash before she laid her head back down on the dirt ground while I kept my hand against her scails. 

“Luciya!” Whipping my head around I recognize my mothers voice coming through the distant crowd of smoke. 

I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted back to her.  “Mom! Mom, mom!”

“Luciya!” My father’s tone came shortly after my call. The familiar blonde and white hair that belonged to both of my parents ran as quickly as they physically could until I was tackled in a bear hug with both of them hugging me.  Burying my face in my father’s chest I sobbed uncontrollably thinking that something bad had happened to either of them.  My mother kissed the crown of my head and I could tell she was utterly relieved that I was still standing before her alive. 

I broke the embrace rubbing the stray tears from my eyes seeing someone else coming towards us.  “Rhae - Rhaegar?” I gasped watching my twin brother bolting directly at me and completely tackling me on my back and into the dirty ground. 

“I - thought- you - were- dead.” He sobbed into my hair with each of us clutching onto the other for strength, needing to believe we were physically here and it wasn’t all a dream. 

The words came out in a croaking manner, figuring he was blaming himself for me getting injured.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You need to remember that, brother.  It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I love you, Luciya.” He sniffed through some tears wiping away tears once we had broken the hug. 

I nodded, keeping our hands intertwined together with his own.  “I love you too, little brother.” 

Vaella’s pov

Watching my two oldest children embrace in a high fit of tears and relief that the other wasn’t harmed made more tears fall down my face.  I had already wiped away the heavy amount of tears after I was relieved that she wasn’t dead.  Jaime touched my lower back drawing me from the trance that I was currently in.  “Vaella, are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Um - yeah.  I’m just emotionally relieved they are both unharmed.” I slightly turned my head and attention to my lord husband. 

Jaime raised his hand from my back to cradle the side of my face in his palm.  “What do you think we will have to do now?  My sister is gone and the throne is up to grabs for anyone.” 

“It’s down to me, Jon or my sister.  All three dragons fighting for the throne made of swords.” I declared up to my husband simply.  

A different dragon's roar came down from the skies with the large dragon landing away from us.  I noticed that it was one of my lords rushing over to us before he lowered himself down on one knee.  “My Queen.” 

“What are the current circumstances, Tymber?” I questioned the Valyrian lord before me and Jaime. 

Lord Barlaeries raised his head slightly responding to me. “The fleets and dragons have surrounded the secured gates of the castle, your grace.  Once we open the gates we can distribute the food that you have brought to the outer docs.  What else would you like us to do, my queen?” 

“Gather my sister, Jon and the other leaders into the throne room.  We shall all address the smallfolk when we deliver them food.” 

Lord Tymber raised a brow. “How will we decide who seats the throne, Queen Vaella?” 

“That answer will come in due time.  The smallfolk of the realm come first.” 

He rose from a knee bowing his head and running to fly off on his dragon. “Yes, my queen.” 

The four of us had flown over to the Red Keep where our dragons were left outside but in the entrance of the gate walls.  Jaime and I looped our arms together with our twin children following behind our heels.  I truly did miss Rihana and Chandler but I was right to make them remain at Winterfell with Sansa.  She would treat them fair. I know she would.  They would be able to come back to their family shortly once we got the public of this city settled.  The realm and who seats the Iron Throne must come later. 

We moved throughout the castle having to be careful to avoid the fallen rubble from my eldest son’s slightly destructive tantrum.  The Red Keep would certainly need some cleaning and renovation to become what it once greatly was.  

Rubbing my freehand underneath my nose and my watery eyes I sniffed through some fallen tears that had slipped out when I faintly recognized the horrible smell of wildfire.  The caches of wildfire that had been lightened by dragon fire.  The smell of burnt stone and flesh all coming back to the forefront of my mind, my fathers memory still haunting me ever so slightly. 

That is one thing for certain that must be changed with whoever seats the famous throne.  The memory of fire and death needed to be removed from this world and the rulers of the realm.  We needed peace if the realm was to survive. 

We paused outside and the large double doors were slowly opened by two of my sister's men who stepped away shortly after when we began walking forward.  “I present to you the long lost Princess Vaella of House Targaryen.  Daughter of Aerys II and Rhaella Targaryen.” Ser Waters of House Velaryon declared to the room full of smallfolk, Valyria lords, Northern lords and my sister's army of former slaves. 

“My sister has been removed from the throne.  She is no longer your Queen.  We have someone still with us that I believe was always meant to have the role as your ruler.  And that person is my lady wife Vaella Targaryen.” Jaime squeezed my hand intertwined with his eyeing everyone in the large room.  He shifted his head down where his green eyes met mine. “You've got this, princess Vae.” 

Dropping my hand from his I heavily sucked in a breath before releasing a sigh stepping up front and center to the large crowd of smallfolk and some of the soldiers I had taught beside during the Night King battle.  “Hi there - um I'm sorry I'm very nervous.  It's been quite awhile since I've been presented into a room as Princess Vaella.  It’s been over twenty years since my father, who is most known only as The Mad King, has been removed from that throne.  Very few of you likely even know who I am after Robert Baratheon’s Rebellion, know who my brothers Rhaegar or Viserys or even my sister Daenerys were before House Targaryen fell from power.  That is something very upsetting to me but it also gives me and my sister a chance to change how people remember our house and our dragons.  I don’t want to keep us on the same wheel of power we have been on.  I want to move forward and turn the page in the Seven Kingdoms if you’ll allow us to do so.” 

“Are you saying we will be having two Queens rule?” A woman looking to be Sansa’s age spoke up first that was standing the closest to me. 

Clasping my hands together in front of me I clicked my tongue.  “That is not something I can answer at this time.  I can tell you this that I will not force any of you to bend the knee and simply accept me or my sister as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.  The decision will be up to you and the other lords and ladies of Westeros.” 

“Why did you give us food?  How did you know they would close the gates and basically leave us to our own defenses?” An elderly man raised his hand in the air asking me another question. 

Locking my gaze with the man I sent him a half smile responding back.  “I brought you food to make sure that you survived this war and to know that I hadn’t abandoned you.  Sansa Stark told me that Cersei Lannister didn’t care about any of you at all.  She only ever made you fear her, not have love or respect towards her.” 

“Lady Vaella, I suggest that we gather the remaining lords and ladies to discuss our next steps for the Seven Kingdoms.”  Tyrion cleared his throat causing everyone in the crowd around him to take some steps backwards so we could all see him. 

Tucking a few strands of my hair that had fallen out of my braid I nodded in agreement.  “I agree with your words, Lord Hand.  Enjoy the food we’ve given you and we will come seek your comments later on.  This transition will be hard and long but we will all make it through this.” My sister, her friend and Tyrion were the first to make their way out of the double doors.  Jaime takes a step up to me holding out his right forearm.  Looping my arm through his we met the others' gaze nodding in unison finally being the last two to leave the throne room.

[arvandus]

Daily Drabble #2 - Gojo x F!Reader

Warnings: F!Reader, light fingering, Gojo being a menace as usual, sort of hate sex vibes (but no sex in this one folks, it's just a drabble. Sorry!)

Gojo stared down at you despite his blindfold, his lips curled into a smirk.

"You mad at me?" he cooed.

"Gee, what gave you that fucking idea?" you seethed.

Gojo inched closer to you, leaning into your personal space. You backed up instinctually, your back hitting hard against the wall.

"What are you doing??" you demanded.

Gojo pushed up his blindfold and gently tilted your chin up with a crook of his finger. "Hmm... checkin' somethin'."

Your eyes narrowed, but your pulse fluttered. It always did when he touched you, and he liked to touch you often. He knew what it did to you, he enjoyed the way it pulled at all of your loose strings, unraveling you.

You batted his hand away.

"Don't you start that," you warned. "Don't think you can get out of this."

Gojo laughed, light and airy as your anger bounced off of the protective shield of his arrogance. "Get out of it? What makes you think I want that?" he leaned closer to you until his nose brushed at your forehead, his voice dropping. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

His long arms framed you against the wall, caging you, and already you could feel the heat in your veins, your body coming alive for him. You didn't want it to, the anger still simmering in your veins, but it was as if you were pavloved to him now.

You tried to push at his chest, but he didn't budge. "You're seriously sick, you know that?"

Gojo's grin only widened.

"Satoru, I'm serious. I'm too fucking pissed for this."

"Hmm..." he hummed as his lips brushed from your forehead to your temple. "y'know what I think? I think you're lyin'."

You choked out a scoffed sound, your hands pressing against him again. Again, he didn't budge. "You're delusional, Satoru."

"Am I?" he chuckled.

Gojo bullied his leg between yours, spreading your knees apart, and despite your better judgment, you didn't fight it.

"Let's ask her, shall we?" he breathed.

Your heart froze in your chest, your eyes widened. Your hands automatically stopped pushing and slid to grip Gojo's expensive cotton shirt at his sides in anticipation. Instantly, you realized the action already betrayed you.

With his lips at your temple and his nose in your hair, Gojo slid his hand beneath the hemline of your pants. He pulled away just enough to watch his hand vanish beneath your clothes. His long fingers found you, stroking against the wet cotton of your panties.

"Hm, what do you think?" he muttered. "Is she mad at me?"

You realized he wasn't talking to you. He was talking to your pussy, his sky blue orbs hidden beneath his white lashes as he looked down at where his hand was buried.

His long, skilled fingers slipped past the barrier of your panties.

He tsked and tutted as he soaked his fingers into your wet heat, drawing slow circles within your folds and teasing at your entrance. Your breath hitched in your throat, your hands shifting to grip needily at his strong shoulders.

Gojo's eyes flicked back up to you. He was so close you could feel his warm breath on your lips, could feel his nose brush yours. You were trapped, locked in the sky blue of his eyes, and in that moment, every part of you was exposed to him. Every desire, every need, every ache. Your began to pant, your breaths feeling heavier, weighed down by the gravity of his proximity, rooted to him by his touch.

"She says you're a liar," he said, his tone low and dripping. "And you know what happens to liars..."

You tried to keep your defiance, but your voice came out in a squeak. "What?"

Gojo grinned against your lips. "They get punished."

[candyredmusings]

Pathologic Sentence Starters.

Taken from both Pathologic Classic HD and Pathologic 2. Feel free to edit as you see fit.

So, it's all about trickery to you?

No, no... I detest trickery. But if we ourselves are to suffer deception, our hands are no longer tied.

What a silly place...

Those who favor hard logic and direct action are bound to be misguided

Only a miracle can set us free without us having to destroy something. And I can DO miracles. Just let me.

Will you please be quiet?

You're a liar and a thief.

Who is going to believe you when you keep lying to yourself?

Whatever happens, I WILL find answers, and justice will be restored.

Don't you go all bossy on me clever clogs.

This calls for the gentle hand of a surgeon.

Your gentle hands are used to killing, not giving life. You will inevitably do harm.

As for brainy, he has no regard for casualties at all.

Neither of you knows compassion.

Yes, it seems unlikely that we'll get along well.

Any choice is right as long as it's willed.

It's not even a trap... it's a grave.

I can see that. You're full of hate.

You mean you won't become a killer? But you will! Mark my word, that's exactly what will happen.

We fear everything, old boy, as mortals do, and desire everything as if we were immortal.

There is an eternal order that Fate itself has predetermined. It is due to this order that things happen the way they should, following a preordained path.

We promise according to our hopes. We perform according to our fears.

You are broken [NAME], I on the other hand am used to winning!

Sorry, I thought you brought in a baby.

You think I brought a baby? // You think I brought in a baby? // You think I brought in a baby?

Guess I'll go have a talk with [NAME]...about the Hippocratic Oath, if nothing else.

No, you can't. You were rude to me.

Give me your herbs, worm.

The real game is happening between you and me.

No, the little girl is not so simple.

You are a slave of the inevitable, while I am its mistress.

Just tell me. Could you have saved my brother?

Pain is our great ally. It reminds us we’re still alive. It drives us to action.

You may mean well, but you bring evil and destruction all the same.

Wow... that's startling! What's wrong with you?

Why do you hate me so much?

You smell of blood.

Well, I think you aren’t doomed.

Dreams are fine, but we need bread.

However, when I look at you, I get the feeling that nature is playing jokes on us.

Don't teach me to dance, pal. Been a clown all my life.

Perhaps this is my way of saving you, giving you diamonds for the price of sugar. Or I'm trying to swindle you. Or it's just a prank. Who knows? Not you.

Where shall you go now, [NAME]? Who will you look in the face?

There are fine things, old boy, that are more brilliant when unfinished, than finished too much.

She despises you, and hates everyone else.

I've loved from the moment I laid eyes on you.

All the world's a stage... sometimes a gallows stage.

People fear bloodshed only when it's their blood... and their shed.

That scum had neither heart or brains, so he has no need for his guts, either.

Cut it with the strong language immediately! 

You little prick!

What a contradictory character you are.

I wouldn't have waited for a trial and a verdict to fire a bullet at your tender heart.

I believe we're surrounded by amazing creatures -- some of them are of such magnifience that we aren't even fully aware of their presence.

True... I'm deeply miserable in general - if you're at all interested to know.

Life is a night at the bar. All the wisdom you gain, you pay for in pain.

But could I please offer you a piece of advice?

I NEED NO ADVICE!

I fear you've fallen under the [NAME]’s influence—the prickly prick that'll bury us all!

There's no way in hell I'm going to help him…or his minions.

Are my ears playing tricks on me? [NAME] is stuck?

Are my ears playing tricks on me?

This smartass won't bother with the losses at all

You both lack mercy.

For the first time, I'll have to think for myself.

I don't know if I'm good or evil. Stupid words, anyway...

I don't know if I'm good or evil. Stupid words, anyway... But I'm trying to be gentle to others and hard on myself. I know how to sympathize and not judge. I try to love whoever I touch. That's the only answer I have.

Yes, my love, you are the bravest. Now go and play. I have a lot on my plate right now.

I'm very scared of this [NAME]… I feel that they’re  a demon, a spirit of destruction and downfall!

I don't kill people. I save their lives.

I'm way more dangerous than the murderer.

People are foolish and weak. One day you're beaten to a pulp and laughed at, the next you're worshipped.

Sorry, I can't help feasting my eyes on your outfit… who was the mad tailor?

No lover's as sweet as the silence of sleep.

It's me, the player.

Tell me what your intentions are, and I'll help you.

Are you trying to borrow money from me or something?

I just wanted to make it so that people would live longer, really. And, preferably, on their own accord.

Stay where you are, demon! I don't know if I'll be able to kill you today—but you will lose a lot of blood. You are mortal too, I know it… however hard to kill you may prove!

Do you realize now that you have lost? And there's nothing to be done. It's too late.

You need more sleep, friend.

What's there about you to like? Nothing.

Do not despair, [NAME]. Do not regret a thing.

…I can't believe my ears. Someone has admitted that I am right.

I do my best to avoid morons.

You're looking for salvation in the wrong place.

God… what an idiot I was!

Let justice prevail. Mercy to the innocent; a reckoning to the guilty.

Did you kill someone with a pencil?

She speaks to the dead.

Sometimes you can find her sitting by a grave and humming a lullaby.

Sometimes girls are capable of the things that even someone as bloodthirsty as me couldn't have invented.

Will I have time to curse you before I die?

Are you trying to bewitch me?

Would you like to see me try that too—the way I do it with creatures like your little self?

He who trusts everybody asks to be deceived.

Ever considered having your tongue removed?

I don’t believe you.

I don’t like you. Actually, that’s too mild a statement. I feel an innate resentment toward you.

Your lips crack. Come, take my kiss.

God loves me.

I am the way to Heaven.

 It aches to be born.

 I am not your foe. love you. Do not push me away.

[smilingformoney]

The Nightmare

Snape x OC | Angst/Comfort

Severus wakes from a terrible dream.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut:

Severus woke in a panic, sweat dripping from his brow as he cried out for his wife. He reached out across the bed for her but - she was gone.

He bolted upright, looking around desperately. It couldn’t have been real, could it? Had she truly been taken?

“Sephy!” he called out. “Sephy, where are you? Sephy…”

He brought his knees to his chest, his breathing quick and shallow. She was gone, he had taken her, and their babies too…

Severus almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the mattress move as someone weighed it down. He looked up, and sobbed with relief when he saw Persephone sitting on the side of the bed, concern etched into her beautiful face.

“Oh, Sephy, there you are!” Severus gasped in relief as he threw his arms around her and pulled her body against his. “I thought - are you alright?” His hand flew to her stomach. “Are they okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Sev,” Persephone said softly, albeit with some confusion. “Just a bit of morning sickness, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong.”

Severus buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her lavender scent and listening to the throb of her pulse reminding him she was alive.

Persephone cradled him in her arms, holding him protectively. “Did you have a bad dream?” she asked.

Severus nodded, not looking up.

“Oh, Sev, come here. Lie down with me.”

Persephone climbed into her side of the bed and allowed Severus to cling to her, his head resting on her breast, one hand carefully cradling her stomach.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked as she gently stroked his hair.

“It was so vivid,” Severus said hoarsely. “So real… he was back. He took you. I tried to find you but I was too late. He… he killed them. Our babies, he killed them.” He sobbed against her chest, tears staining her nightgown. “Then he… he killed you. I screamed and - and then I woke up, and you weren’t here. I was so frightened, Sephy. What if he does come back? What if there was something we don’t know about -“

“Shh, shh, don’t talk like that,” Persephone said soothingly. She gently took his left arm, the one that was laying over her belly protectively, and carefully turned it over to show him the bare skin. “See? Gone. It died with him.” She took his hand and softly laid it on her skin near where she had felt Ariadne squirming against her organs some minutes earlier. “We are alive, and our love is so strong that we made two of them. Can you feel them?”

Severus closed his eyes and focused. Underneath his hand, ever so gently, he could feel something moving. Then, to his surprise, he felt a kick, right on his hand.

“Does she know I’m here?” he gasped.

Persephone giggled as Ariadne kicked again. “She’s excited to meet her daddy.”

Severus moved down the bed to gently kiss her belly. “Hello, my darlings,” he whispered against her skin. Persephone felt Ariadne stop moving, as if she was listening to his voice.

“Oh, I think we found the secret to calming them down,” Persephone chuckled. “Say something else.”

Severus smirked, pressed his lips against her skin, and murmured, “I love you so much, my precious babies. I am counting down the days until we meet. I know that you are both going to be so brilliant, so brave, just like your mother and your sister. I will spend every day of my life working to give you everything you need. I love you both so, so much.”

“They like that,” Persephone smiled. “They like your voice. They’re calming down already.”

“Then I shall speak to them every day,” Severus promised. “And they will know they are loved from the moment they are born.”

He placed another gentle, loving kiss to her belly, then glanced up when he heard a sniff.

“Are you alright, my love?” Severus asked with concern as he realised she was crying. He moved back up the bed again to kiss away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

“Happy tears,” Persephone promised. “I’m just… overwhelmed by how much love you have for us. And how much love I have for you.”

“I never thought I could love a single person until I fell in love with you,” Severus said. “And now I love four. Four beautiful, perfect, incredible girls.”

“I bet they’re going to look like you, like Abbie does.”

“Certainly not. I must have given Abbie all my genes, I have none left to give. They’re going to be the spitting image of you, I’m sure of it. Will they be identical, do you think?”

“I’m not sure,” Persephone mused. “What if we end up with one of each? One you and one me.”

“There’s already a second me next door, we don’t need a third. One was more than enough; Abbie is only tolerable as she’s a better me than I ever was.”

Persephone laughed. “Tolerable?! Severus, you worship the ground that girl walks on.”

“Maybe so, but don’t tell her that, I’ll never live it down.”

“Oh, I don’t need to, she’s well aware. Now come on, let’s get back to sleep. Do you need a potion?”

Severus hesitated. He wanted to say he didn’t need it with her there, but he was still a little shaken up. Sensing his hesitation, Persephone took her wand from her bedside table and summoned a Dreamless Sleep Potion from the cabinet.

“Thank you,” Severus murmured before taking a generous gulp from the vial. As he did so, Persephone settled onto her side, her belly supported by a pillow.

“I miss snuggling into your chest,” she sighed as Severus wrapped his arms around her, gently cradling her belly protectively. “The first night after they’re born, I’m giving you a proper cuddle again.”

Severus chuckled against the back of her neck and laid a gentle kiss to her shoulder. “Thank you, my love,” he said softly.

“For what?” Persephone asked, although her eyes were already closed for sleep.

“For soothing my nerves so easily,” Severus replied. “For loving me so well, and for so long. For staying by my side, and for marrying me despite all my shortcomings. For giving me three beautiful daughters. For… well, for you. I love you so very much.”

Persephone smiled. “I love you too,” she mumbled sleepily. “Now get some rest, Severus.”

He placed one more kiss on her shoulder, then settled down to sleep, resting easy now knowing that his wife and unborn children were safe in his arms.

[kusuguricafe]

Denki Makes a Splash!

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you're having a fun summer ⛱️☀️

Summary: Denki’s pitfall prank goes awry—will the UA girls be able to turn the tides?

Characters: lee!Kaminari, lers Momo, Jirou, and Mina (Sero cameo)

“You guuyyys,” Mina whined, “I forgot my towel!

Class 1A had taken a well earned trip to the beach to relax and have some summer fun. Most of the students were busy putting on sunscreen or setting up their beach towels and umbrellas.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Momo started, “I can just make one for yo—”

“WAIT! Look over there! Is that mine? It looks just like it!”

Sure enough, a hot pink and black zebra striped towel lay upon the sandy beach before Mina and Momo. The two walked over to inspect it.

“Yep, that’s definitely mine. I accidentally burnt a couple small holes into it right here, see?” Mina gestured towards the edge of her towel.

Momo nodded. “I wonder how it got here.”

“You know, this is actually a pretty nice spot.”

“Shall we set up here?”

“Hey! Wait for me, you two!” Jirou called out.

“Jirooouuu! We’re gonna set up heaaAAAAHH!!” Mina plopped down onto her towel and, to her surprise, plummeted a few feet before hitting the bottom of a sandy pitfall.

“Oh my! Mina! Are you alright?” Momo exclaimed.

“Mina!?” Jirou cried.

“I-I’m fine! Just uh, a little stuck!”

“Hold on one second,” Momo said as she began to create a rope ladder. “Jirou! Be a doll and come help me hold this for her, will you?”

“Coming!”

“Ha! I can’t believe she actually fell for it!” Denki snickered from behind a nearby rock.

“She really fell for it, huh?” Sero quipped.

Jirou’s earphone jacks perked up at that all-too-familiar squeaky laughter. “KAMINARI!!” she roared, facing his direction.

“Crap—quick, let’s go!”

Denki and Sero bolted in different directions.

“Once we pull her out of here, you’re dead!” Jirou shouted, “DEAD! You hear me!?

Momo and Jirou managed to hold the rope ladder steady enough for Mina to successfully climb up out of the pit, towel and all.

“Thank you guys!! Jirou, did you see Denki?”

“No, but I heard the little punk. He would have had access to your room at some point before we all left, right? I bet he’s the one behind this.”

“You’re probably right,” Momo sighed, “He’s always pulling stunts like this.”

“I say we take revenge,” Jirou declared. “Who’s with me?”

“I am.” Momo raised her hand.

“Aye, aye, captain!” Mina saluted.

“Let’s make sure that loser gets a taste of his own medicine!”

And so the hunt began. The three girls headed in the direction where Jirou had heard him. After several minutes of searching and asking around, they still had yet to find him. Until…

“Do you guys see that yellow thing in the water?” Momo asked.

Mina and Jirou looked over towards the ocean.

“I think I can see his signature black lightning bolt! C’mon!” Mina urged.

The trio started running towards the sea. Kaminari’s familiar outline became clearer the closer they got.

“There you are!” Jirou yelled.

Already in their bathing suits, the girls ran into the water after him.

“Ah! Stay back!! Or I, I…! I’ll sneeze!”

“You can’t do that, you idiot! You’ll shock everyone else along with us!” Jirou exclaimed.

“Oh, r-right… WHA! W-wait! Jirou! You can’t just drag me out of here!”

“Help me out, Momo, Mina!”

“On it!” Mina said, grabbing Denki’s other arm.

Momo quickly made a lasso and tossed it his way.

“Oh, come on!” Denki cried, “There’s no way you just lassoed me!!”

The three girls managed to pull the poor boy back to shore.

“We’ve got you now!” Jirou said.

“What are you gonna do with me?” Denki asked nervously.

“Let’s toss him into the hole!” Mina said.

“Good idea!” Momo agreed.

“Better yet, let’s bury him in it!” Jirou suggested.

“Bury me??”

The girls looked at each other and nodded in agreement. They hauled him over to the hole he had dug. Momo tied his wrists together with the lasso. They (gently) threw him in and started filling the sand in around him.

“You guys can’t just bury me alive!!!”

“We’re not going to bury your head,” Momo reassured.

“Or your feet!” Mina added.

Denki looked up at them, confused. Unable to free himself from his binds, he succumbed to his fate.

There Kaminari lay, face up, almost entirely buried in sand.

“Now for your real punishment,” Mina smirked.

“This wasn’t my punishment!?”

Momo and Jirou looked at Mina in confusion as well. She walked over to Denki’s bare feet, knelt down, and skittered her nails all over his exposed soles.

“This is your punishment!”

“AAAIIIEEEE NONONONONOHOHOHO! Minaa nOHOHOhoho!!” Denki protested.

Momo giggled. Jirou kneeled down near his head.

“Good thinking, Mina! How you like this, huh?” Jirou teased, tickling Denki’s neck and ears.

“I dohohohon’t! Nohohohohoho!!”

“You don’t know?” Momo chimed in. “Maybe this will help?” She sat beside his buried torso and began digging a small window in the sand, revealing Denki’s tummy.

“Nohohohohot you tohohoo-AAAHH NO! PFFTAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! AHAHAHALL OF YOU!!”

“Haha, his hair’s standing on end!” Jirou pointed out.

“Coochie coochie coo~! This is what you get for breaking into my room and stealing my towel! And then setting up a trap!? Really, Denki?”

“IHIHI’M SAHAHAHAHAHARRYY!” The tickling felt so much more intense with how little he could move away from six hands! “PLEHEHEHEHEEAAASE!!”

Momo dipped a finger into his belly button and wiggled it around, Mina was focused on tickling underneath and in between his toes, and Jirou found a particularly sensitive spot behind his ears. Tears pricked the corners of Denki’s eyes.

“You’re gonna kill meeeEEAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA J-JIROU EEEEHEHE NAHA *snort* NAHAHA *snort* NAHAHAT THEHERE! NOT THERE NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! PLEHEHEHE *hiccup* EEHEHEHEHEEEEE!!”

“Haha aww, you must have found a really good spot, Jirou!” Mina beamed.

Momo paused for a moment, startled by Denki’s sudden hollering. Jirou appeared to be mildly flustered by how much of a reaction she was getting out of the boy. Her evil smirk melted into a bashful smile.

“Hey! Are you guys torturing Denki or something??” Sero yelled, rushing towards the scene.

“More or less,” Mina answered.

“GUHUHUYS SERIOUSLYYY! I’M GOHOHONNAHA BLOW A FUHUSE!”

“I think you can take a liiittle more, can’t you?” Mina sang.

He shook his head weakly.

“You two should probably slow it down a bit,” Momo said.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s lying about the fuse thing,” Sero agreed.

Mina did not heed their call and Jirou was in her own little world. That was, until—

“YEOWCH!” Mina screamed.

“AH!” Jirou yelped.

“Weehehehei~”

Sero put his hand on his forehead and shook his head. Momo resignedly began digging Denki out of the sand.

“Oops, hehe…” Mina said with a sheepish grin. She began uncovering his legs.

Jirou blinked. Realizing what had happened, she pitched in as well.

Sero joined in and the four of them uncovered and untied the short-circuited boy. They carried him to an umbrella Sero had set up earlier and set him down onto a beach chair in the shade. Sero began fanning him with a paper fan Momo had created.

“Are you alright, Denki?” Mina asked.

“Wei,” Denki replied, giving her two thumbs up.

“Sorry if we pushed you too far…” Jirou apologized. “But don’t go doing something like that again, okay? Mina could’ve gotten hurt!”

Denki nodded. Mina began rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a small bottle of pineapple juice.

“Here, you can have this,” she said, handing it to him.

“Th-thank you. Come closer for a second.”

Mina did so. “Yeah?”

“Sorry for stealing your towel. And for trapping you.”

“It’s okay, I forgive you!”

He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. “But don’t bury me again!” He lightly tasered her side.

“EEK! Okay okahay!”

“You didn’t mind the tickling, then?” Jirou sneered.

“Oh, shut up!”

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

Accepting Forgiveness (Trigun 98) fanfic

content: Vash is left in a coma for ten days after killing Legato to save others. With Retha being just as injured as Vash to be there for him when he wakes up. Established relationships, injuries and scars, mention of torture and death and trauma and all the not fun things that come with fighting evil people. Talk of forgiveness and love.

Ten days. That's how long it took for Vash to finally wake up. Ten whole days. With Meryl and Millie doing their best to tend to Vash and myself as I tried not to lose my mind with worry. I wasn't any better off than Vash really. I was just awake and able to get from one room and back before falling over. Legato had delighted in torturing me to the brink of ruination. With my legs having chunks of muscle tissue ripped out from him using my own fingers to do so. Deep gashes along my sides and front from where he had my hands dig and rend myself open for his amusement. Having a high pain tolerance tended to bite me in my ass.

But I spent those ten days thinking, praying, and reflecting on scriptures. Which meant I had the time I needed to prepare and overcome. So when Vash did wake up with everything ready to shatter him, I would have some means of putting him back together again. Lord willing. That was all I care about. All I would ever care about. Now that Wolfwood was gone and we were on the last hurdle to finally put Knives out of the end the human race plot. We just needed to catch Vash when he fell from his shattering of finally pulling the trigger to kill.

Vash woke up with me in the bed with him. Since I had passed out in the chair for Millie to move me into the bed with Vash before leaving for work. So Vash had blinked his eyes open to my sleeping face. Which was covered in gouges and clawed scars by now. Having him stiffen in the bed with the shock hitting him full force. But then the memories hit him in quick succession. Leaving him sobbing and panting for air. So I sighed to scoot close and hug him to me. His face buried in my shoulder as he held onto me as tight as possible. "It really happened... Oh Retha... I killed him... Legato is dead... I killed him..."

My sigh is long for me to soon give Vash a soft squeeze before I spoke up. Despite that making my throat hurt even worse than usual. "Legato Bluesummers made his choice to harm and kill a long time ago, Vash. It was the constant choice he would continue to make for as long as he was alive. Only in death shall such choices be unable to be acted upon." I rubbed my cheek to Vash's face to make my next point count. "You choose to protect and to love. That is what sets you apart from everyone else. You are no murderer, Vash. As long as you give your every effort to choose to love and to keep peace, you will never be a killer or evil man. So for what sin you must carry now from taking a life to save others, I tell you that I forgive you. Just as Wolfwood did. Just as Meryl and Millie and Lina and Sheryl and every soul whose lives you've touched. We forgive you, Vash Saverem."

Vash went so still he stopped breathing. But he soon started to cry so hard he trembled with every breath. So I held him to let him unravel completely. I let him wail and sob and grieve for all that has been lost. Holding him tight as the minutes passed us by. Until Vash had his voice break to give hard pants and coughs due to the pain. Thankfully, Meryl got back from shopping to hear the commotion and run right in. Her eyes frantic as she dropped the groceries onto the table before sprinting over to the bed. "Vash! Oh God! Are you-"

I held a hand up to then explain. "Brakes, Meryl. He's going through the motions of grieving and accepting loss. On top of it probably being time to give him those painkiller injections the old surgeon left us with. So help me sit him up and we can see to those shots and a new IV for both of us." Meryl nodded to be gentle with Vash as we got him to sit up in the bed. The sheet falling away from us both in the process for Vash to really see how bad Legato had shredded me. But the tugging of the IV line the surgeon had put into his chest got his attention to make him grimace in complaint. "Ow. What the- Why isn't this in my arm?"

Meryl sighed as she got out the medical bag we'd gotten from the surgeon to fetch the pain injections out. Her words flat and pointed. "Because your arm was so wrecked we couldn't risk blowing a vein. The surgeon put the same IV line in your bed buddy for much the same reason. Since our resident medical expert on this rag tag team is too injured to do any form of self doctoring right now." Meryl turned to change out the IV bag for Vash before she injected the pain shot into the IV line directly. Vash soon relaxing once the medicine was in his system to then really look at Meryl. His gaze softening as he spoke up. "You didn't get hurt. That's such a relief. What about Millie?" Meryl shook her head to then see to my IV bag to then answer the question. "Millie is completely fine. She's currently at work to dig a new water well where the village has found a source underground. We've also had a few retired Feds move in next door to explain things to. Thankfully, they were also taken by Legato during that... Fiasco to learn the entire truth about who the real villain is."

Vash flinched at that as Meryl moved to stand in front of him. Then she reached up to lightly tap him on the forehead with a finger. Her words lacking any real bite to them. "No more running around like an idiot until I say so. This village is aware of our past and yours. Since a bunch of people have family in other parts that you've rescued or befriended. Especially that surgeon who treated you two. Apparently, he got into being a surgeon because you saved his life and his entire town sixty odd years ago. He's not the only one who immediately vouched for you to the mob that wanted to lynch your half dead ass." Vash blinked in shock as Meryl huffed to cross her arms. "The mayor and his wife met because of you some seventy years ago. The local grocery store owner said his mom owes you big time. Something about how you stepped in to help her family when her father broke his leg and couldn't work for a month. Even the local pastor knows the amazing Humanoid Typhoon from when you sat with him on the steps of a church and got twisted into a pretzel to protect him from the local bullies."

My smile is growing by the second as Vash takes in all the support he's earned for Meryl to stare right at him. Her smile soon softening her face for her to finally speak what she's been wanting to say for ages. "Your efforts and scars did pay off and saved so many, Vash. So let us give back to you and help you out now. You are a good man with a heart of gold sunshine, as your bunk mate always puts it when she speaks of you to others. I don't expect you to instantly forgive yourself or get over all that's happened. But please let us help you now. Because we care about you and want to help."

Vash sat there to look like his brain stalled out again. So I chuckled to then take his hand in mine and lace our fingers together. His gaze soon turning to me as I stayed laying down. But my words were full of unconditional love. "You have sowed a fine amount of good in this life, Vash. So in turn has the harvest been bountiful to give back. The Lord always stayed with you to carry you to this moment with us to love you as Christ does. We are here. He is here. Even the ones who went ahead to the eternal are here in spirit. So take heart from this and let us help you get better. Let us help refine the gold of your being in fires of gentle love and nurturing comfort." Vash shivered from head to toe to squeeze my hand as tight as he could manage. But soon he nodded to heave a sigh of air that spoke volumes. His gaze sad but accepting. "Okay. I get what you're saying and will do my best to accept what you offer. Thank you both."

[mechwarrior-rose]

Shelter: Pirate's Nightfall

DAI LONG PLAIN TESTING GROUND OBERON VI OBERON CONFEDERATION 28 SEPTEMBER 3049

Shelter turned his head this way and that. His new sidecut felt alien to him. He'd always kept his hair long. Made sense. He had more femme days than masc, and on those days he loved his long hair. Even when it was tied into a bun for work. But if he was wearing a neurohelment into combat, he needed the sides buzzed close.

When he was young and didn't know himself better, he'd kept his hair long out of social expectation. His parents had been fairly conservative middle-class folks in civilian jobs within the service, hoping their perfect daughter would escape military service and go on to be an accountant or, even better, a trophy wife for an Inner Sphere noble or something. But the War Griffins had--

The War Griffins were dead. He was the last one left who could fight. No one else among the technicians had sufficient training to do more than walk a 'Mech into a repair bay. Today would be his last day alive. Maybe there'd be enough of him left to bury with the rest of his family.

He punched the wall. Picked up the clippers, turned them back on, and went after the rest. Didn't stop until every strand was cut down to a single millimeter. Black curls coiled in the sink. His scalp was an angry red from the pressure. Shaven in mourning.

"Let's go kill some fucking pirates," he snarled to the man in the mirror.

++++++++++

Ariel's ass print was still on the command couch of her Griffin. Of all the things to strike Shelter as funny, and of all the absolutely wrong times to laugh, and of all the uncomfortable positions to be caught in a fit of hysteria: crammed into the limited space between displays and couch, doubled over, bulky helmet pressed into the headrest, cooling vest too rigid to allow him to collapse into tears like he really wanted.

He stepped over the center console and dropped into the seat, erasing the last mark Ariel had left on this godforsaken planet.

He knew the checklist. Ran through it as efficiently as any 'Mech jockey. The Griffin responded eagerly. Weapons online. Sensors online. All systems nominal.

He toggled the radio to the lance frequency. "Razor One, this is Razor Four coming online."

"That's everyone," Lieutnant Rieck's voice replied. Shelter was surprised, but he said nothing. Lieutnant Keller must have been a casualty. Which probably meant there weren't many lieutnants left.

Hell, maybe Hendrick Grimm himself would come to the field in the final defense of his world.

"Razor Lance, we will advance in formation to Nav Point Epsilon. We will hold station there."

"Yes, sir," the lance chorused back, Shelter included, as if he'd been responding to combat orders his whole life.

Two beeps signaled that the Lieutnant wanted a private chat. Shelter flicked to the direct channel. "Sir."

Rieck's voice was full of sympathy. "This is a brave damn thing you're doing, Corporal. I respect the hell out of you."

Hateful sympathy. Shelter had no time or heart left for it.

"Rather earn that respect on the field, sir. Shall we?"

++++++++++

The pirates were already at Nav Epsilon by the time Razor Lance arrived.

Their comms were jammed, just like at Black Canyon. There was no way to get the word to the main force or link up with another lance. So Rieck made the best call he could in the moment: run for Kennedy Beach to draw the enemy away from the city and into open space.

Running from Black Canyon had been terrifying enough. Running while plugged brain-first into a war machine that was screaming because it was being missile-locked by a FrankenMech was nightmarish. The tactical computer was trying to decide if it was a Thunderbolt, a Marauder, or gods knew what else. The circle-vision strip at the top of Shelter's HUD flickered in and out as his 'Mech's stock EW systems and counter-systems tangled with the enemy's more advanced tech. Lances of coherent light, the screams of missiles, the actinic flare of particle cannons. No wonder Ariel had had a heart attack.

An enemy Hunchback--wait, a Hunchback with two autocannons?--sent fire and metal shrieking into Razor Two. The Shadow Hawk folded in on itself as if its reactor core had just produced a singularity. The 'Mech's auto-eject had been enabled; bolts blew and rockets fired, carrying him skyward. Uninterested in the helpless pilot now drifting down-strand on a full chute, the Hunchback turned toward Razor Three.

Shelter didn't even think. He tied all three of his lasers to the same circuit and carved his anger into the Hunchback's side armor. The 'Mech was within the minimum range of his LRMs, but he fired those anyway. Heat washed into the cockpit. Shelter ignored it. Two missiles made it into the rents his lasers had opened, touching off the ammunition within. The Hunchback simply disintegrated from the knees up. The explosion rattled the cockpit glass of Shelter's Griffin.

But it was for naught. Another enemy FrankenMech, this one a Catapult with Marauder arms stitched on, buried Razor Three in missiles and laser fire. Wolverines were tough, but nothing could withstand an onslaught like that. Shelter thought he caught a scrap of Sergeant Baker's scream of terror before her radio was obliterated.

On the circle-vision strip, Shelter saw Rieck's Marauder go down, its leg removed at the knee by a fusillade of laser fire. It couldn't have all come from one 'Mech. Yet there was an enemy machine with what looked like a dozen lasers ringing its arms, streaking in for the kill.

It was over. But Rieck and Razor Two--Shelter had never even gotten his name--might be able to escape if Shelter acted fast. He flicked the radio to broadband, remembered the jamming, then engaged the external speakers.

"Enemy forces!" he shouted. "I am Shelter of the War Griffins, last of my family. If any of you have the fucking balls to do it, come try me. I'll take you all on myself."

As he spoke, he edged his Griffin away from the strand, away from Rieck and Razor Two. He also pressed a red button on his side console that began dumping his LRM ammunition out of a hatch in his rear armor. The enemy were all too close now for the missiles to be of use anymore, and Shelter had no intention of dying the same way the Hunchback pilot had.

The dull crackle in Shelter's ears suddenly stopped. The enemy had dropped their communications jam.

A woman's voice came over broadband. "Shelter, I am Star Captain Mila of the 11th Wolf Guards. While it is well past the time for such a challenge to be issued, we will meet it nonetheless. Let the Circle be drawn."

Shelter quickly flipped to the private channel with Rieck again. "Now run, you son of a bitch. Eject, meet up with Razor Two, and get out of here."

He'd be with his family soon. War Griffin reunion.