#find me at COWARDLY-CONDUCT

[gaymurdersalad]

Welcome to Gaymurdersalad! Or Freddy Fazbender’s, I don’t know, the script got soaked in mop water again.

Here you will find such an array of characters as ROTTING PUMPKIN, PACK OF CAMELS, HENRY, two PLASTIC IDIOTS, a DANGEROUS FURRY, one ORANGE CARCASS, a TWELVE GAGUE SHOTGUN, and if you ask for her, GOD HERSELF!

As for the information of their whereabouts, don’t you worry, I’ve stalked and creeped around enough to figure it out!

[ and my pronouns are ve/ver, thank you very much! @cowardly-conduct , that’s me! ]

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While I may ruthlessly disrespect these characters because they are silly and dumb, you may not, as they are attached like strings to my very real human self. As I am a mod. For this blog. God forbid.

Some Rules :

- You can use any piece of art on this blog from backgrounds to character panels provided you give credit to Gaymurdersalad or my main art account, cowardly-conduct! Fan art is also totally allowed! Please @ this blog so I can gaze lovingly at it for several days!

- I am not immune to the spare dirty joke, but keep your language within reason.

- You can ask as many asks as you like! Alas, please don’t spam some silly stuff over and over again for a gag.

- Weird asks like “[Character] is so hot” or “[Character] I have a crush on you” will not be entertained, so save me some time and don’t ask all that!

- You can give characters things if you wish. Keep ‘em within reason or I won’t make it so. Depending on what it is it may stay or go later on.

- Sure, you can mention some characters, but try not to directly insert them into the “story”. They don’t really have to be dsaf related either, I mean, this whole thang is silly, if you wanna ask Peter if he knows what Salad Fingers is, go right ahead.

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That should be it! Have quite a decent day, and remember the company motto: EGGPLANTS AND ORANGES CAN GO IN SALADS TOO!!!

… God dammit I need to keep my papers out of Dave’s reach.

Ask Status:

Chribs is hella busy! Slow going!

[pin-k-ink]

NAUGHTY IN THE OFFICE ★ KUCHIKI BYAKUYA

DAY FOUR ➵ byakuya’s known for ages about the grudge you hold against renji—ever since he made him your co-lieutenant. but when your jealousy starts getting in the way, he decides it’s time to settle this once and for all…in his office, on his terms

cw ➵ power play, dom/sub themes, punishment sex, fingéring, nípple play, blòwjob, face fucking, mild objectification, dirty talking, deepthroating, manhàndling, hair pulling, degradation, praise kink

wc ➵ 5.1k

kinktober masterlist

"You wanted to see me, Captain?"

Your tone was carefully measured as you stepped into Byakuya's office, refusing to betray any of the simmering resentment bubbling just beneath the surface. The captain's piercing grey eyes found yours immediately, seemingly pinning you in place with their intensity.

"Indeed. Close the door and come here," he stated flatly, not a shred of inflection in his deep baritone.

You did as instructed, your spine stiffening almost instinctively under his hawkish stare as you approached his ornate desk. Byakuya regarded you in silence for a long moment, giving you no clue as to the purpose of this summons. Finally, he spoke again, his words clipped and precise.

"It has been brought to my attention that your...handling of Abarai’s doppelgänger during the recent Reigai incident was unbecoming to say the least," he began, his cool appraisal never wavering. "In fact, the accounts describe excessive mutilation and vehemence far exceeding reasonable measures, even after the threat was neutralized."

You felt yourself bristle at the implied rebuke, jaw clenching as you struggled to keep your anger in check. So that pathetic worm Renji had gone whining to Byakuya about his treatment. Figures he'd be too cowardly to address it directly.

"I employed the force necessary to permanently eliminate a dangerous enemy combatant," you bit out, unable to keep the edge from your tone completely. "The situation was volatile and my priority was ensuring no further risk to our forces."

Byakuya's eyes narrowed a fraction, clearly unimpressed with your justification. "Throttling the life from an already crippled and disarmed opponent while snarling profane insults seems rather excessive in the name of 'ensuring safety', does it not?"

He leaned forward slightly, pale hands steepling on the desk as his gaze bored into you with unsettling intensity. "What I wish to ascertain, Lieutenant...is whether this lapse of discipline and restraint perhaps stems from more personalized motivations beyond pragmatism."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks as his words struck a nerve, stoking the embers of a deep-seated animosity you usually kept rigidly contained. Clenching your fists at your sides, you struggled to find a neutral response that wouldn't inflame the situation further.

"With all due respect, sir," you began through gritted teeth. "My actions in that moment were the result of pure battle instinct - nothing more. Whatever perceived 'vehemence' you refer to was simply misinterpreted zeal by those too craven to understand."

The muscle in Byakuya's jaw twitched almost imperceptibly at your thinly veiled jab. His next words emerged in a crisp, almost lethal cadence.

"Do not insult my intelligence further by obfuscating, Lieutenant. We both know the catalyst behind your...unrestrained conduct." His tone took on a hint of steel. "You have never made your displeasure over Abarai's appointment as my second-in-command a secret. Even I am not so aloof as to overlook the resentment radiating from you every time you're forced to acknowledge that arrogant ruffian's status."

The truth of his observation struck deep, peeling away the last threads of your composure. You bristled, feeling the dam of bitterness and years of bottled resentment threatening to burst forth.

"That ill-bred dog doesn't deserve to lick the dirt from your boots, much less serve beside you as a lieutenant!" you spat with sudden, blistering venom. "Yet you saw fit to elevate that uncouth, disrespectful gutter trash simply because he managed to impress you one time with dumb luck!"

Byakuya sat in stony silence as you unleashed your tirade, his expression unreadable. Encouraged by his lack of response, you plowed ahead heedless - years of repressed misgivings finding voice at last.

"I've served this division loyally since before that arrogant fool could even hold a sword properly! While he played street tough and disgraced himself by pursuing your sister, I devoted my entire life to upholding your honor and standing by your side!"

You were shaking with emotion now, feeling the first hot sting of tears in your eyes. "Yet none of that mattered when you had the chance to grant favor to that undeserving peasant over me simply because—"

"Enough."

The single word sliced through your diatribe with razor precision, freezing you in place. Byakuya's tone remained even, but you could sense the undercurrent of steel behind it. He appraised you for a long moment, his expression set in impenetrable arrogance.

"I expected such base sentiments from you eventually, though I had hoped age and experience would grant more dignity," he stated flatly. "Clearly my faith in your discipline was misplaced...as was my decision not to address this poison festering between us until now."

With that, Byakuya rose from his chair with effortless grace, the threat in his movements evident as he rounded the desk towards you. Despite your indignance, you found yourself instinctively stepping back as he advanced - only for your back to collide with the wall behind you.

Suddenly caged between Byakuya's powerful frame and the unforgiving surface behind you, you struggled to maintain eye contact as he leaned in with terrible intensity. This close, you could smell the faint tang of green tea and cherry blossoms that always seemed to cling to him. His steely eyes bored into yours with unsettling perception.

"I think it's long past time we addressed this twisted obsession you harbor, Lieutenant," he murmured in a tone that could have been soothing if not for the venom behind it. "Clearly my tolerance has allowed these base impulses to fester into something...unbecoming of the honor you claim to cherish so ardently."

His meaning hung heavy in the air, paradoxically thrilling yet utterly petrifying all at once. You opened your mouth to respond - to deny or deflect or perhaps even provoke him outright. But then Byakuya closed the last few inches separating you, stealing what little breath remained in your lungs as he pressed himself flush against you.

A tremor went through you at the blazing intensity smoldering behind Byakuya's unflappable gaze so scant inches from your own. This close, you could feel the body heat radiating from his powerful frame - the subtle masculine musk of cherry blossoms and steel that always seemed to cling to him like a calling card.

Despite the propriety rattling through your bones, demanding you shrink away from this unforgivable breach of proper decorum, something stronger kept you rooted in place. Spine rigid, you met Byakuya's piercing stare head-on, jaw clenched stubbornly against the maelstrom of emotion swirling in your chest.

"I cannot stand the insult of that ill-bred ruffian being elevated alongside me as if he's somehow worthy!" you bit out in hushed tones edged with venom. "He's an arrogant disgrace who earned his status through luck rather than steadfast dedication to your honor the way I have for years!"

Byakuya remained utterly motionless save for the glacial sweep of his eyes drinking in your defiance. You trembled faintly, plowing ahead while still pinned beneath that molten yet impassive scrutiny.

"How can you justify granting that dog a place as your lieutenant when all he's done is lecher after Rukia and stain your honor at every turn?" you seethed in harsh whispers. "While I have sacrificed everything in service of your noble house, only to be shunted aside when the chance presented itself to—"

"So this obsessive resentment stems more from jealousy than duty in the end, it seems." The low rumble of Byakuya's observation sliced across your feverish tirade with surgical precision.

He didn't move, yet you felt the weight of his presence intensify somehow - that inexorable, aristocratic charisma and banked power asserting itself more with every delicate inhalation. Throat dry, you could only stare back at him, chest heaving slightly.

"Tell me, Lieutenant..." His next words emerged soft yet laced with unmistakable steel. "Do you believe yourself so superior to Abarai? So much more dedicated and worthy of remaining by my side, above all others?"

The not-so-subtle challenge hung in the charged air between your bodies for several heartbeats. You trembled, undone by the molten intensity glittering in Byakuya's eyes even as his expression remained studiously neutral.

"You know I am," you growled at last, meeting that penetrating stare head-on despite the heat blazing in your cheeks. "I have given my entire life in service to your honor and greatness, Captain Kuchiki. That disgraced peasant could never—"

Byakuya cut off your tirade by suddenly surging forward and crashing his mouth against yours in a bruising, domineering kiss. You went rigid with shock, a strangled noise escaping into the harsh sealing of your lips as Byakuya's powerful frame pinned you against the wall. One of his hands fisted almost painfully in your hair, angling your head back to grant him fuller access.

For a handful of heartbeats, you remained frozen - unable to process the unapologetic claiming of your mouth by your noble captain's own. Byakuya took full advantage, his lips slanting over yours again and again in a demanding series of forceful, openmouthed kisses that stole what little breath remained in your lungs.

When his tongue boldly swept along the seam of your lips, you trembled bodily - a frisson of blazing heat lancing straight to your core. Byakuya rumbled out a low, gratified sound that reverberated against your heated skin as he detected your involuntary reaction.

"Kiss me back," he growled directly against your parted lips between forceful claimings. "Properly this time, Lieutenant. Allow no distractions or hesitation. I want you to submit…completely."

His words vibrated through you with tangible command, searing across your nerve endings like a brand. Unconsciously, your hands drifted up to grip at the fine silk of Byakuya's shihakusho, seeking an anchor against the storm of sensation rapidly unraveling your restraint.

But quick as lightning, Byakuya captured your wrists in one powerful hand, pinning them against the wall above your head in clear rebuke. His free hand maintained its punishing grip on your hair, keeping you arched and exposed to the sheer force of his onslaught.

"No," Byakuya intoned in a tone that brokered no argument. His steel-grey eyes bored into yours from mere inches, somehow still fathomlessly unreadable despite the molten intent behind his actions. “Your body stays still and under my control—only your mouth and tongue will follow my commands now. Show me your loyalty…or accept the fact that you are an insubordinate fraud, after all."

You whimpered shamelessly, wrists straining against his uncompromising restraint as Byakuya's words seared their way beneath your bones. Despite the deluge of conflicting impulses thrashing within you, one desire burned through the chaos in undeniable clarity: the need to prove your steadfast loyalty and worth to this man as he'd demanded.

With a trembling inhale to steady your nerves, you willed your body into boneless surrender and parted your lips for Byakuya's possession once more. His smoldering gaze drank in your capitulation with blazing intensity for one suspended moment. Then his mouth sealed over yours again in a searing brand of dominance.

This time, you surged into the consuming crush of Byakuya's tongue and lips without reservation. Greedily swallowing each slick velvet stroke and gasping rumble of gratification that vibrated against your swollen flesh. Desperate to match the ferocity of your captain's possession and provide the unwavering obedience he commanded.

But still, Byakuya maintained the upper hand - guided and owned your mouth's ardent attentions with consummate, regal mastery that left you undone. You melted beneath every firm sweep of his tongue claiming your plaint submission without quarter. Each harsh grunt and subtle flex of Byakuya's body caging you against the wall made you increasingly drunk on his overwhelming virility and dominant grace.

Byakuya's tongue worked in merciless strokes, utterly dominating the velvet heat of your mouth as you surrendered to his regal possession. His lips moved against yours in a demanding, open-mouthed assault - swallowing each of your fevered whimpers and gasps without quarter.

You clung to the wall helplessly, body arched and pliant as Byakuya caged you against the unforgiving surface with his powerful frame. Every subtle flex of sinewy muscle and harsh grunt of exertion that rumbled from his chest only further undid you. His overwhelming masculine presence and commanding grace left you dizzy, drunk on the intoxicating reality that this regal nobleman was thoroughly and shamelessly owning your ardent submission.

When at last Byakuya tore his mouth away with a rasping growl, you could only gape up at him in a heated daze. His aristocratic features remained chiseled into a haughty mask of severity - and yet those piercing steel-grey eyes blazed with naked, ravenous hunger as they raked over your disheveled, whimpering form.

"Look at you..." The low gravel of his voice fairly dripped with dark satisfaction taking in your mussed disarray. "So shameless and needy already, simply from my tongue mastering that pretty mouth of yours as it deserves."

One of Byakuya's calloused hands trailed down to palm your heated cheek with blatant possession. His thumb traced the plush, swollen arc of your lower lip in a lingering caress that made you shudder bodily against him.

"I can only imagine how utterly ruined you'd appear after being split open properly on my cock," he rasped in that tone of noble command that somehow only added to the visceral thrill zinging through your veins. "So completely and utterly ruined past the point of any lingering propriety or composure..."

Byakuya leaned in closer until his lips grazed the feverish hollow of your throat, exhaling a pattern of scorching hot brands against your rapidly fluttering pulse. You felt his smirk curve against your hypersensitized flesh as a full-body shudder wracked your surrendering form.

"That's it," he purred in satisfaction, tongue darting out to lap a molten trail up the slender column of your neck. “Let go of that weak discipline and loyalty, Lieutenant. Let me tear down those empty masks until all that’s left is my subordinate, completely undone and begging for my unrestrained attention like the perfect whore you truly are…”

His teeth grazed your hammering pulse in a stinging rebuke - not enough to mark but enough to make you jolt with scalding pleasure-pain. Byakuya rumbled out a low, gravelly chuckle against your fevered skin at the choked whimper that spilled free.

"Yes..." he growled in clear gratification, “give yourself to me completely right now. Release that bitter jealousy and resentment in the most intoxicating submission. Let me rid you of these illusions by finally claiming what I’m owed…”

He sealed his mouth over the rapid fluttering of your pulse in a searing brand of possession, lapping and suckling against the sensitive flesh with merciless leisure. You squirmed helplessly against Byakuya's unyielding frame, a plaintive keen being torn from your very depths as slick heat gushed between your legs.

Dimly, you felt the unforgiving grip anchoring your wrists shift fractionally - Byakuya's free hand snaking around to palm the base of your spine and drag your hips flush against the rigid brand of his cock. You whimpered shamelessly into the fevered crook of his neck at the sheer size and scorching heat straining against the fine clothes separating your bare skin.

"Do you feel that?" Byakuya's low growl reverberated against your swollen lips. "I am going to fuck every bit of this insubordination and misplaced jealousy right out of you. I'll make sure you know exactly where your proper place is in my ranks by the time I'm done."

Before you could fully process the scalding promise, Byakuya's lips claimed yours once more in a devouring crush of lips and teeth and tongue. You whined into the punishing seal, utterly helpless as his uncompromising grip guided and controlled the rhythm of your open-mouthed ardor.

Then his fingers were tangling into the hem of your shihakusho, deftly untying the loose knot holding the front panels together before wrenching them apart. The sudden exposure sent a delicious tremor through you, the cool air kissing your now-bared skin.

But Byakuya offered no reprieve or mercy, his greedy hands palming and squeezing every inch of newly bared flesh. He nipped and suckled and laved a punishing trail of molten brands against the column of your throat. The coarse rasp of his palms dragging across the sensitive peaks of your nipples sent sparks shooting along your nerves, making you keen in desperate surrender.

Byakuya's calloused fingers teased and toyed with the pebbled buds of your nipples, alternating between a punishing pinching and languid circles. When the pads of his thumbs began to apply a slow, merciless pressure, you arched against him with a keening cry, hips grinding against the hard heat still pressed flush to your abdomen.

A deep, satisfied rumble vibrated against the swell of your breast where Byakuya was currently laving a scalding hot brand. The hand anchored to your hip clenched reflexively, his hips bucking into the friction against his swollen length with a sharp hiss.

"Look at you...so shameless and eager for my attention already," he murmured, his tongue tracing a path along the valley of your breasts before latching onto a puckered nipple. "Just as well...I have no interest in a subordinate who would refuse my command."

Your hands were suddenly freed, and with a startled whimper, you fisted them into Byakuya's fine silken locks to anchor yourself against the relentless onslaught of his tongue. Your other hand gripped the shoulder of his haori, nails biting into the expensive fabric as his mouth continued its assault.

"I...Captain Kuchiki..." you gasped breathlessly, head falling back against the wall as Byakuya's mouth worked over your breasts with a punishing vigor. "I have no such...reservations. I exist only to serve you and honor your name..."

Byakuya lifted his head just enough to deliver a sharp, reprimanding bite against the tender flesh. You jolted, a plaintive keen spilling forth as pain-laced pleasure flooded your senses.

"Liar," he rumbled, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. "You may be willing to surrender to my authority, but deep down, you are no less resentful than before." His gaze bore into yours from beneath thick, sable lashes, the intensity behind those storm-grey eyes searing straight through to your soul.

"But I intend to remedy that by the time we are through."

With a swift movement, Byakuya seized both of your wrists and pinned them above your head once more. Holding them in place with one hand, his free palm skimmed down the length of your arm, grazing the swell of your breast before sliding further down to cup your ass.

He gave it a firm squeeze, eliciting a muffled groan that quickly dissolved into a pleading whimper when his fingers slipped lower, teasing the wet heat pooling between your thighs. A strangled sound ripped free from the back of your throat as two of his digits pressed inexorably past the soaked lips of your pussy, sinking deep with a scalding glide.

Byakuya's teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his breath hot and heavy as his fingers slowly began working in and out of you. "Look how ready and eager you are for my cock already," he growled in a tone that was equal parts praise and scorn. "Even if your words protest, this lewd little cunt is begging me to use you however I please."

Your head fell back against the wall with a choked sob, hips arching desperately into the exquisite glide of his fingers fucking in and out of you with unapologetic dominance. The scalding heat of Byakuya's palm kneading and gripping your ass while his thumb brushed against the throbbing bud of your clit sent a shudder of molten pleasure-pain through you.

Byakuya's mouth slanted against yours once more in a possessive seal, tongue plundering the wet velvet of your mouth with ruthless fervor. Each forceful thrust and twist of his fingers inside your needy pussy drove you higher, coaxing a fresh surge of slick honey to drench the already sodden flesh.

Just when you were certain the overwhelming barrage of sensation would consume you completely, Byakuya withdrew his fingers with a low groan, his mouth tearing away from yours with a final, punishing nip. You whimpered weakly at the sudden emptiness, hips grinding futilely against his hardness in desperate search of stimulation.

"Not yet," he grunted, his hand returning to its position anchoring your wrists above your head. "First, you will learn to properly beg for my cock, Lieutenant. It's time for you to show me exactly what that filthy mouth can do."

The unspoken command reverberated through you, searing itself beneath your bones with an undeniable resonance. Trembling, you sank to your knees, eyes never leaving Byakuya's smoldering gaze. The uncompromising press of his palm against the back of your head guided you forward, until your lips were inches from the tented silk of his hakama.

The moment you lifted your fingers to tug the loose waistband down, Byakuya's hand shot out, slapping your grasp away with a sharp sound.

"I did not command you to touch, Lieutenant." The low growl rumbled through you, sending a frisson of delicious fear skittering up your spine. "Use only that pretty mouth. Now, be a good girl and suck."

His hips shifted forward slightly, pressing the clothed bulge of his erection directly against the plush heat of your mouth. With a muffled whimper, you nuzzled into the silk-clad hardness, inhaling the potent, musky scent of his arousal. Your teeth carefully tugged the obi free, allowing the waistband to slip down, exposing his cock in all its glory.

The sight of Byakuya's thick length standing rigid before your lips made a fresh flood of heat gush from your pussy. It was everything you could have ever fantasized and more - long and thick, the engorged flesh a flushed, angry red, already leaking pearly white beads of precum as it jutted out proudly from its nest of silky black curls.

Before you could wrap your mouth around the engorged tip, the hand anchored in your hair tightened its grip, tugging harshly until your face was angled up to meet Byakuya's searing stare. The position made his cock jut up and brush against your cheek, the silken head smearing a glistening trail across your heated skin.

"Look at me."

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as you obediently lifted your gaze to meet the molten intensity burning behind Byakuya's steely gaze. His lips were curled into a small, self-satisfied smirk - the barest hint of smug arrogance behind the austere planes of his expression.

"Good," he praised in a low, pleased murmur. His free hand reached out to wrap around the base of his cock, giving it a slow, languid squeeze that made a fresh droplet of pearly precum well from the flushed tip. You shivered as you felt itslide down the curve of your cheek, leaving a sticky, viscous trail in its wake.

"Now, put that insolent little mouth of yours to use, Lieutenant." The soft gravel of his command vibrated through your bones, making the molten heat throbbing between your legs ache all the more.

Without further ado, Byakuya dragged the leaking tip along the seam of your lips, spreading the silky beads of precum in a sticky mess against the plush, swollen flesh. You shuddered, a whine spilling free as you parted your lips to accommodate the bulbous crown.

But Byakuya refused to give you even a shred of control, his fingers digging painfully into the back of your skull as he thrust his hips forward. His cock forced its way past the velvet heat of your mouth, sinking deeper and deeper until the wide, flared tip hit the back of your throat. You felt it slide down even further until the wiry hairs at the base tickled the sensitive bridge of your nose.

You whimpered, hands instinctively rising to grip the tops of his hakama. But before you could so much as touch the fine fabric, Byakuya's fingers lashed out, catching your wrists in a steely grip. He held them tightly, forcing your hands back to rest on the tops of your thighs.

"What did I say about touching, Lieutenant?" The low, gravelly growl vibrated through the hard, pulsing length filling your mouth. You tried to shake your head in protest, but the firm hold on your scalp kept you firmly in place.

"You have been a most insolent, disobedient subordinate thus far." His words washed over you like scalding silk, leaving your nerves thrumming with a strange mixture of shame and exhilaration. "If I am to allow you this privilege, you will earn it by showing me exactly what I deserve from you."

With that, Byakuya's hand guided your head forward, hissing a sharp curse when his cock slid deeper into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. The tip nudged the tight clench of your throat, causing a reflexive gag and spasm that only seemed to further arouse him.

"Relax," he growled, the word more a command than an attempt at reassurance. "You'll take all of it, or I'll ensure you spend the rest of the day choking on my cock until you learn the proper respect."

A full-body shudder wracked through you, a fresh flood of desire pooling in your core. Before you could even process the shameful thrill coursing through you, Byakuya was thrusting into the tight channel of your mouth, hissing out a guttural curse.

His free hand anchored in your hair kept a merciless pace, dragging you forward to meet each brutal thrust of his cock. The salty tang of precum exploded across your tongue with every slide of the thick length into the wet suction of your mouth.

Byakuya's jaw was clenched in concentration, the muscles in his neck straining and a fine sheen of sweat gleaming across his skin. But his gaze remained locked on yours, the smoldering ferocity behind those steel-grey depths nearly unraveling you completely.

You could do nothing but whimper and choke and surrender to his punishing pace. Every time the flared tip of his cock plunged down your throat, you could feel the edges of your vision grow blurry, threatening to black out entirely. Your chest burned and heaved with the effort to drag in breath around the thick girth stuffing your mouth full.

Just when you thought the sheer, overwhelming fullness would swallow you whole, Byakuya's grip on your scalp eased, allowing the thick length to slip from the tight clench of your throat and rest heavily on your cheek. You gagged, coughing and gasping for air as tears welled in the corners of your eyes.

Before the last shuddering gasp had left your lungs, Byakuya was tugging your head back toward his throbbing erection. A pained whimper slipped free, but you didn't resist, lips parting to allow him to slip his cock back inside.

"Such a perfect little whore for me already," he murmured in dark satisfaction. The hand cradling the back of your head resumed its bruising pace, fucking the hard, pulsing length down your throat with brutal efficiency.

You could feel the tension in his body growing taut, his hips jerking more erratically as his grip tightened its hold on your hair. He was getting close. And with every rough snap of his hips, his cock shoved down your throat, the head brushing against the sensitive muscles there, you could feel yourself teetering on the edge as well.

Byakuya's thrusts were growing faster and shallower, his breathing ragged as the grip on your hair became nearly unbearable. You knew it was only a matter of seconds now. And despite the ache in your jaw and the tears streaming down your cheeks, all you wanted was to feel the rush of his release coat the back of your throat and fill your mouth.

With a low growl, Byakuya pulled his cock free from the tight clench of your throat, hissing another sharp curse as the engorged flesh jerked violently.

"Open," he commanded. His voice was strained, his grip tightening almost painfully in your hair.

You obeyed immediately, lips parting and tongue sliding out as his fingers worked over his pulsing cock with rapid, harsh strokes. His eyes were locked onto your mouth, his gaze smoldering with unrepentant ferocity as he approached the peak.

And then his body was stiffening, hips bucking and head thrown back as a ragged moan tore from his throat. Hot spurts of thick, creamy cum coated the inside of your mouth, the bitter taste exploding across your senses.

With a strangled moan, you swallowed greedily, your hands rising to cup his balls and milk every last drop from his cock. Your tongue flicked out to lap at the sticky strands spilling from the still-pulsing tip, savoring the musky, salty flavor.

Byakuya's free hand fisted into your hair, his entire body trembling as the last wave of his orgasm subsided. When he finally opened his eyes and lowered his head, the intensity behind his gaze made a full-body shudder race up your spine.

He regarded you for a moment, his features still chiseled into a haughty, regal mask of severity. But his storm-grey eyes burned with undisguised hunger, the desire simmering beneath the surface nearly unraveling you.

Finally, his grip loosened, and his fingers traced the curve of your jaw.

"Swallow."

His voice was rough and slightly breathless, sending a shiver of desire racing up your spine. Your tongue swiped along the seam of your lips, catching the few remaining drops that hadn't already been greedily lapped away.

Byakuya's nostrils flared, a low, pleased sound rumbling in his chest as he tucked himself back into his hakama. Then his palm was cradling the curve of your jaw, tilting your head back until his searing gaze captured yours.

"I trust you've learned your lesson about insubordination?"

You swallowed thickly, the taste and feel of his cum still lingering across the velvety heat of your tongue. "Yes, Captain Kuchiki," you murmured, the words hoarse and slightly muffled. "I...I have been foolish and ungrateful."

Byakuya's hand slid lower, his thumb brushing against the plush swell of your bottom lip. "Yes, you have," he agreed. But his voice was soft and slightly indulgent. "However, I do seem to recall you using your hands while I was...preoccupied. That is in direct contradiction to my orders."

A sharp stab of fear pierced through you, your breath hitching at the implications. "I..."

Byakuya's finger pressed against the plush swell of your lips, effectively cutting off any response.

"For this, I will have to punish you." The words sent a mixture of excitement and fear skittering along your nerves, a fresh gush of slick heat pooling in the cradle of your thighs.

You shuddered, but did not dare move, not daring to even draw a breath as his fingers traced along the delicate curve of your neck.

"Get on my desk."

Your eyes widened, heart hammering in a mingling of shock and exhilaration. His tone brooked no room for protest, leaving you with no choice but to obey.

"Yes, Captain."

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

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Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

[solis-pyr-nola]

LFRP - Solis Nola [PAUSED 6/19/24]

I feel I'm at capacity with RP at this time, so I'm currently paused on taking new rp partners. However if you want to do some casual OOC screaming/OC talk don't hesitate to reach out!

General:

Name: Solis Nola, formerly Solis pyr Nola

Age: ~23 ish

Race: Garlean

Hair: Pale pink

Eyes: Green

Height: 177.8cm / 5'10"

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual, male-leaning

Physique: Fit, more muscular than your average Midlander

Marital Status: Shipped

Notable Marks: Scar down the right eye, one across the bridge of his nose, and another running diagonally from shoulder blade to hip

Particulars:

Skills: Marksmanship/shooting, piloting aircraft, boxing Hobbies: Piano and reading, eventually horticulture Employment: Previously an optio in the Garlean military, now a defector and on the run

Permanent Debuffs: A dash of PTSD Religion: None

Traits:

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Summary:

The only son of a prominent pureblooded Garlean family and now a defector. His childhood consisted of integrating and learning to manipulate high society while perfecting every extra-curricular deemed strategic by his parents. He lived his privileged young life buying into the empire's propaganda, attended college for political science and economics, then enlisted in the military to be stationed in Doma. The inhumane treatment of Domans witnessed there shook Solis, but he spent several months in cowardly silence until family ties elevated him to the position of optio. Taking advantage of this new position, Solis began to relentlessly file reports of the war crimes his fellows committed. His naivety and whistle-blowing eventually resulted in being dragged from his bed and beaten until he instinctively retaliated by shooting one of his aggressors through the face. Fleeing in the tumultuous aftermath, he landed in Ishgard where he strives to hide his identity and become someone he can be proud of.

HOOKS:

Setting Sail: Are you a pirate, sailor, or otherwise have a reason to be on a ship? You just might find Solis stowing away amongst the cargo as he escapes his homeland in search of refuge An Eye for a Third Eye: Have a vendetta against Garleans? Get his ass Birds of a Feather: Are you Garlean or were/are you involved with them? Feel free to help Solis as he struggles with the realization of what his home really was, or give him some tough love so he can get back on his feet Ishgard: Should you happen to live in or visit Ishgard, you might see a young pink-haired man wearing a silver circlet across his brow and speaking in accented Eorzean. Solis can often be found conducting business in the markets, making connections, or taking an afternoon stroll with his beloved. OOC: Hello, I'm Dom, and this is a side blog for @captainqster . I'm located in the southwestern United States. I prefer long-term, multi-para rp, most likely on Discord for organizational purposes. I'm happy to meet up in game sometimes but I don't typically rp there. I enjoy dark content BUT I also enjoy wholesome things. Whether you're looking for enemies, friends, romance or other, I like all kinds of dynamics and stories. I'm also very open to OOC chat so feel free to hit me with a million questions and ideas. Message me here, I can provide my discord name for chat/planning!

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan is called to see the Commander.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,639. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: talk of addiction withdrawal.)

Chapter 21: Forgive Me

Trevelyan did not usually take her morning walk in the courtyard, so near to the infirmary, but a change of pace was often a beneficial remedy to the boredom of routine. That was her excuse, at least.

But she was far too cowardly to actually step into the infirmary, and enquire after the Commander’s health. It wasn’t her place to ask, really, and it was better for him to rest. That was her excuse, at least.

So, she diverted course. Turned about at the armoury. Greeted mages as they passed. Kicked the weeds outside the Herald’s Rest. And meandered down to the courtyard below.

Soldiers trained here. Feet churned up dust as they pushed forward into attack; grass tore beneath heels that dug in for defense. Trevelyan skirted the clattering horde, an eye kept upon them, just in case.

But they were under the watch of no Commander. Captains appeared to patrol the lines instead, and conducted their instruction with an admirable accuracy.

So Trevelyan wandered on, to the market just beyond the bridge. Sellers had set up there, and were already doing business. Denizens of Skyhold bustled about the tables, examining the wares on offer. Being in the mountains, this was likely the only taste of commerce they got.

Trevelyan joined the crowd. Perusing the stalls might help keep her mind off things.

And there was one in particular that caught her attention: a bookseller, with an array of tomes on a pantheon of subjects, displayed elegantly on a ream of purple crushed velvet. The dwarven man behind the stall—his bearing typical of a merchant surfacer—gave her a beardy smile as she approached.

There were only so many books in Skyhold’s library. Trevelyan wondered if she might find something new here.

An Astronomer’s Illustrated Guide to the Stars, read one golden title, embossed onto blue leather. Trevelyan certainly didn’t recognise this one. The moon and Satina were even engraved into the cover! It was beautiful.

“May I look at this?” she asked the seller.

“’Course,” said the man.

Trevelyan carefully opened the book. The Inquisition had literature on the stars, of course, but none illustrated so. There were the constellations she knew—the Oak, the Maiden, Sacrifice (their Tevene names included!)—but also their Elven and Avvar interpretations. Comprehensive indeed!

“Lovely book, isn’t it?” the seller-man commented. “You don’t get many like that.”

“It’s wonderful,” she agreed.

“That does mean it’s a bit pricier than the rest, but it’s worth it for the quality. Most books I stock are about ten to twenty silvers; this one’s forty.”

Trevelyan stared at him, mouth agape. “Oh.”

She hadn’t quite expected to be buying anything. She was confined to the mountains as much as these other folk. This was the only taste of commerce she got.

Besides, it wasn’t like she had any money.

Her father hadn’t wanted her to possess a (what he called) ‘running away fund’. Trevelyan had begged her parents for something, only finding success when she mentioned how poor they’d look if they sent her with nothing.

The compromise? All her money was kept in a lockbox, and Cara had the key.

Forty silvers was nothing to her parents. And Trevelyan had been doing quite as they asked, spending so much time with the Commander it had driven him to sickness. She could persuade Cara.

“I don’t have any coin on me now,” she told the seller, “but I can fetch some! Would you be able to hold this until I return?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, miss, had too many occurrences of holding things, only for people to never come back. Impacts trade.”

“Fair. Then I’ll be as quick as I can!”

Trevelyan hurried away, as promised. Out of the market, past the soldiers—she took the stairs back to the upper courtyard two at a time! (She took the ones to the Great Hall a little slower).

Catching her breath at the top, she locked eyes on the next flight that awaited, and—

“Lady Trevelyan!”

Couldn’t go anywhere in this damn castle without finding oneself summoned to conversation. A messenger, from the direction of Montilyet’s parlour, swerved towards her.

Trevelyan permitted them their approach. “How may I help you?” she asked.

They bowed. “Your Ladyship, the Ambassador wishes to see you.”

“Right now?”

“If you’re available,” said the messenger. “I can tell her you’re delayed, if you wish.”

Trevelyan thought on it a moment, but shook her head. “No, no. Thank you.”

After all, she had something of an idea as to what this might be about. As urgent as the book was, this was more so. Montilyet’s open parlour door beckoned.

She surrendered to its pull. “Lady Monilyet?” she called, upon entering.

Montilyet, behind her desk, stood on sight. “Oh, Lady Trevelyan! That was fast.” She stepped out to greet her properly, and asked: “How are you feeling, this morning?”

“I’m fine,” said Trevelyan, who was actually a concentrated mess of worry. “How is the Commander?”

“Better,” Montilyet reassured her, “but still recovering. However, he has asked to see you—that is why I called you here. He is waiting now”—she glanced at her parlour’s other door, that led to the secretive war room beyond—“but only if you are happy to see him.”

Trevelyan pushed out an uneasy breath. “Is he well enough for this?”

Lady Montilyet sighed. “He and I have different answers to that question. But, he insisted.”

“Then, all right.”

Montilyet nodded. “Please, take a seat.”

Trevelyan did as requested, taking her usual place on the sofa. It felt odd without Lady Erridge sat beside her, or the Baroness sewing in her chair, or Lady Samient reclined on hers.

Lady Montilyet, meanwhile, had gone to the door, and disappeared within. Trevelyan took this moment to prepare herself for the man that might emerge.

The door opened. She was pleasantly surprised.

The Commander stepped out of his own accord, firm on his feet, at least. His skin had its colour back, and his eyes seemed more alert. He did not wear his armour, nor his mantle—just a simple shirt and a quilted jacket, left open at the front.

He was good at masking the pain.

“Commander,” she said, standing by instinct, “how are you?”

His voice was hoarse, quiet. His reply: “How are you?”

Trevelyan forgave him the trespass of not answering, as she recognised an audible guilt in his question. “I’m well, thank you.”

He managed a subtle nod in response. Lady Montilyet came to his side, and directed him to a seat. The walk over was stable, but slow.

His weight sank onto the chair with a creak, evident of the heaviness of one whose body felt as lead. At least sitting seemed to settle him. Trevelyan waited until he was comfortable, to ask again:

“Commander, how are you?”

“He is better,” answered Montilyet, for him. She remained at his side, observant. “The healers said he recovered well enough in the evening to return to his own bed—but aches and pains still linger, and will for a few days yet.”

Though that did not prevent him from mustering the courage to speak: “I am sorry you had to… witness that.” He said it without ever meeting Trevelyan’s gaze. “Thank you, for fetching help.”

Trevelyan shifted along the sofa, to take Lady Erridge’s usual spot. She tried to catch his eye—and, when she did, smiled at him. “I am glad to see you better.”

“I am sorry,” the Commander repeated. “That day… I had forgotten my medicines. I—believe Josephine told you about them?”

‘Josephine’ interjected: “It was not just that day. The healers said it was four of his last six doses that had been missed—hence why this flare was so terrible.”

Trevelyan’s next question, of how such doses had been missed in the first place, was answered before she could voice it:

“Lyrium affects memory,” the Commander explained. “I forget things, on occasion. But forgetting my medicines meant that the forgetting only worsened. One missed day, turned into two, turned into four. I’m sorry.”

Trevelyan regarded him gently. “I hope you do not mean to blame yourself, Commander.”

“It is my fault.”

She shook her head. “With things like this… lapses happen. No matter how you try or how you prepare, as with anything in life, we are still prone to stumbling. I fear if you blame yourself, it will only dissuade you from continuing this path.”

He seemed to find strength in this, and sat taller. “I do want to continue,” he said, voice full of conviction, “if I prove it’s possible, others may have a chance...”

Trevelyan smiled. Perhaps Baroness Touledy was not compatible with the Commander romantically, but she was not wrong that he was like-minded. Trevelyan was determined to have them make friends of one another yet.

“That is an honourable purpose, Commander,” she told him, “and I think you will succeed in it. I believe you have the fortitude.”

“Some call it stubbornness,” Lady Montilyet commented, with a smile.

Trevelyan shared in it. “That too.”

The Commander, shy again, evaded her gaze, and murmured, “I appreciate your faith in me.” He took a breath before continuing—“I, ah...”—but lost his chain of thought.

“Commander?”

He shook his head. “Forgive me. My head aches.”

Lady Montilyet’s smile dropped, and her regal demeanour returned at once.

“You had best return to your room, and take the rest of the day,” she told him. “And do not think you may work. I have had all your reports removed.”

His displeased frown was rather funny—but it soon turned to one of effort, as he pushed himself up, out of the seat. With a grunt, he managed to stand. Trevelyan rose as well.

“If there is anything I may do to help,” she said, “please, do tell me.”

He smiled, albeit weakly. “Thank you. I hope you are all right.”

“I am, I promise you. Rest well, Commander.”

“Thank you.”

Satisfied, he allowed Lady Montilyet to escort him to the hall door. They were met by a guard at the threshold, who took the Commander’s flank, and marched with him as if following his lead.

Trevelyan stretched as much as she could, to watch him go. But, eventually, he vanished from sight—and Montilyet let the door shut close.

“I am sorry for surprising you with this,” she said as she returned, “but the healers tell me that as soon as his mind was present yesterday, he was asking for you. He was terribly concerned that he had caused you upset.”

Technically, he had, but given that it was hardly intentional—and that the majority of the upset was her own anxiety—Trevelyan had little injury to report.

“I’m all right.”

“Indeed,” said Montilyet, arriving at her desk. “Thank you for agreeing to this. It will have settled him greatly.”

“Of course.” Trevelyan patted down her skirts. “I take it all engagements between he and his suitors are cancelled for now?”

Lady Montilyet, though she had taken to counting out coin, paused to address Trevelyan:

“Naturally, until he feels well enough… and, after I have informed the other Ladies.”

Ah. Time to save her Ladyship a job.

“They already know,” said Trevelyan. Montilyet’s eyes widened. Trevelyan quickly clarified: “It was not me who told them. They had figured it out from the rumours they’d heard.”

This, seemingly, was accepted as adequate explanation, and, thank the Maker, Lady Montilyet pressed no further. She finished counting her coin, and with her quill, struck through an entry on a ledger.

Trevelyan would have left her to this work, but hesitated. There was still something she needed to know. After a moment to build her resolve, Trevelyan crept closer to Montilyet, and asked:

“Your Ladyship, just in case, may I know—what are the signs of one of these flares? If you can tell me, that is.”

Montilyet thought a moment. “Few have happened while I have known him, but… I suppose there are commonalities. First, there is the distractedness—he always seems to lose focus, in the days before.”

Trevelyan thought of the chess match between him and Lady Samient. Not his best play. In fact, he had been rather… distracted.

“Then, of course, the irritability—more so than usual!”

The training, which she had interrupted with the Baroness. It took very little for him to leap to her defence that day. Trevelyan wondered that she had not realised it before.

“And… also hunger. I worry when the cooks say he is eating well. A healer once described it to me as like the body is trying to satisfy a hunger that it can never fulfil.”

That damn crumble. Of course he’d eaten the whole thing. Trevelyan cursed herself.

“Thank you,” she told Lady Montilyet regardless. “I shall bear it in mind.”

Her mind, indeed, ran over the three almost obsessively, so that she would not forget. Eager to be away and write them down, she curtsied, opening her mouth to give a farewell and take her leave. Montilyet raised a hand.

“Wait a moment,” she instructed. “I have something to give you.”

She collected from her desk what she had been preparing—a small coin purse. It jingled pleasantly as she picked it up, and offered it to Trevelyan.

“Here. Your wages, for the last week.”

Trevelyan blinked. Wages?

She accepted the satchel, and drew it open. Golden coin glittered within a silver sea. Maker, this couldn’t be right.

“Usually this would be the bursar’s role,” Lady Montilyet explained, “but I wished to give you this first one myself, as personal thanks for your work.”

Trevelyan counted the coin. “But… this can’t be the right amount?”

“Seven royals is a good wage,” Montilyet told her. “Better than most.”

But Trevelyan’s head shook. “It’s too much.”

A realisation came across Lady Montilyet’s face. Her open mouth closed into a sympathetic smile.

“This is not a Circle allowance,” she explained, “this is a fair wage for fair work.”

“Are you certain?”

Lady Montilyet placed her hands on Trevelyan’s, and closed them around the purse. “This is your money, Lady Trevelyan. Spend it as frivolously or frugally as you wish. It is yours.”

Trevelyan already had an idea. “Thank you,” she said, tying the purse-strings back up tight, “thank you.”

With a low cursty and a very fond farewell, she hurried out of Lady Montilyet’s office. There was a book in the market that required her attention.

And now, it would not even be her parents’ money with which she bought it. It was her own money. She would pay for that book, and it would belong to her, wholly and completely. They could never take it from her, claiming they were the true owners. It would be hers.

Trevelyan almost tripped over herself, running down the steps to the lower courtyard. Clutching the purse to her chest, she weaved her way through the dilly-dallying crowd of market-goers, and found that velvet table.

But the book was gone.

“Do you have that book?” she asked the seller. “The astronomy one?”

She did not like the expression that marred his face.

“Sorry, miss, sold it just a minute ago; I did say someone else had their eye on it, but they were keen as you.”

“Do you have no other copies?” she asked, desperate.

He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s a rare one. But, I could have another by the time I return.”

“Oh! When will that be?”

“I pass through here whenever I’m travelling between Ferelden and Orlais—should be back in about… three weeks, say? Maybe a month.”

Too long.

“I’ll be back home by then,” she told him. And she’d be returning with nothing of her own. “Thank you, anyway.”

“Wait, wait!” He scribbled something on a scrap of vellum, and offered it to her. “This is the name of the book, and the author. Show that to any bookseller worth their sovereigns where you live, and they’ll find you a copy, I’m sure.”

Trevelyan smiled, and took the slip. “Thank you.”

But it was a poor consolation prize. She trudged back towards the stairs, contemplating her misery. No pretty book. But the money was something, at least. She’d have to hide it, where the snakes that called themselves her ladies’ maids would never find it. If they knew, then her parents would, too.

Sure enough, when Trevelyan arrived in her room, one of the little vipers (Cara) was turning down her bed. She thanked the Maker for her smock’s large and concealing pockets.

“Your Ladyship,” greeted Cara, “some things arrived for you. A letter from the Bann and Lady Trevelyan, and an Inquisition woman delivered a parcel.”

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan, “you may go.”

Cara curtsied, and left. The second she was gone—with a glance down the corridor to check—Trevelyan scurried to her bed, poked a hole in the mattress beneath, and stashed her money in there. Worked well enough in the Circle.

Satisfied it was adequately hidden—though she would make sure to check every morning and every night—she turned her attention to the post waiting on the table. The parcel Cara had mentioned was a rectangular sort of shape, and decently thick. The letter was a letter.

Trevelyan forwent her parents’ admonishments for now, and took up the parcel. Wrapped in brown paper, and very poorly too, she quite easily found a gap to tear into.

And revealed a blue leather beneath.

In disbelief, she tore the rest of the paper away. The book! The book of constellations! Illustrated, complete! Here. How?

She opened the cover. A note awaited her.

To Lady Trevelyan, it read, something for you, by way of apology. C.

Her heart fluttered. Buying something for herself was one thing, but having something bought for her was another. Trevelyan had never had anything so lavish bought for her—at least, in earnest. All her parents’ purchases had been begrudging.

Her fingers stroked the pretty pages—all hers, every constellation, every star—before she snapped the book shut, and held it to her chest. Apology most certainly accepted.

She would have to do something for the Commander in return. A book for him, perhaps? It would be nice for him to read something other than a report, during this mandated rest of his. She could get him a romance! A better one, too, than his current recommendation.

Though… such a thing might be taken the wrong way. Like a winking suggestion. But, she could always—

Her reverie was cut short, as she snatched a glimpse of the waiting letter from her parents. Sighing, Trevelyan set down her book, and picked up the letter. The seal of House Trevelyan cracked open, and revealed its contents:

To our daughter,

I am writing to remind you of the upcoming banquet, for which you shall be in attendance. I faithfully request that you comport yourself with utmost dignity and elegance. Nobles of all regions shall be in attendance, and our reputation should be kept polished in their presence. Remember to—

Trevelyan set the letter aflame in her hand, and watched it burn to nothing more than ash. She had something better to read, now.

And she knew the perfect place to read it: the battlements, that very night.

***

And Maker, it was a lovely night.

With the same flame she used to light her parent’s letter, Trevelyan illuminated the pages of her new book—careful so as to not award it the same fate—and used it to map out the stars above.

Each culture had a different story for them. It reminded her of the Commander. So many different interpretations she had heard. But as with the stars, she need not adopt any for herself. She could have her own meaning, for the heavens, and for him.

She wondered how he had fared today. If he had actually taken his rest, or instead intimidated some soldier into bringing him his reports. Likely the latter.

Had everything been all right, they would have their usual Montilyet-appointed walk together again this afternoon. There was a pang in Trevelyan’s chest when she thought of it. A shame.

“Comman—oh!”

The nightwatchman’s call startled Trevelyan. But it seemed she was not the only one.

She whirled, to see the Commander in retreat. Still in his lighter clothing—though his jacket was now buttoned up against the cold—he was attempting to return the way he had come.

Trevelyan hurried to catch him. Not hard, considering his present state.

“Good evening, Commander!” she called.

He stopped and faced her, reluctant—or perhaps shy. He gave a subdued bow, likely all his aching muscles could manage.

“I simply wished to say thank you, for the book,” she told him, smiling—brighter and more genuinely than she had for him all this time. “It was very kind of you. I had been looking at it myself this morning.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, “it was the least I could do.”

“You didn’t—oh, well.” She wouldn’t argue with his stubbornness fortitude tonight. “I shan’t keep you. I just wanted to thank you.”

He smiled, at least.

“If you were headed this way, you can pass,” she reassured him. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh—if you’re sure.”

“Whatever gets you back to sleep the fastest,” she joked.

He chuckled, but it soon turned to a cough. “Right... then, I’ll be on my way. Good evening, your Ladyship.”

“Good evening, Commander.”

Though she smiled as he departed, though she held her book close, there was a little sadness that came with her return to the stars. If he were not so unwell, then perhaps he could have joined her.

That would be… nice.

[kaftan]

hi it's me lea, you don't have to publish this İ just wanted to tell you that seeing you speak on transmisogynie and having apologised really, idk, fixed something in me? having these callouts come back incessantly like waves with seemingly no amount of argument and analysis changing anything caused a certain bitterness to grow in me, but you returned to me a certain, İ don't want to say faith in humanity, but reassurance that there's ppl not only able but also willing to unlearn transmisogynie and to fight it. it's good to see that transmisogynie isn't quite as insurmountable and all-encompassing as it feels sometimes. thank you for that ❤️

Hi lea ❤️❤️ thank you dearly for sending this ask; it’s definitely worth publishing. (Quick context for newer followers: my last rodeo with the transmisogyny callout industrial complex was about two years ago, and directed against lea: at the time, I was stupid enough to give benefit of the doubt to transmisogynists where none was deserved, cowed enough by people in my circle to accept anti-kink, thought-crime-is-real rhetoric, and cowardly enough that despite my misgivings, I didn’t publicly speak up against it or reach out to lea before she deactivated her account at the time. To put it mildly, much has changed in the two years since — I got to know many more trans women, developed a political backbone, familiarized myself thoroughly with the meaning and manifestations of transmisogyny, and also, crucially, stopped being 18. Anyway, I recently came across lea again, reached out, extended a much-needed and much-overdue apology, and we are once more mutuals and friends.)

I think, like you said, there’s a lot to be gained in acknowledging that the factors responsible for people believing transmisogynistic callouts are unlearnable and not intrinsic (in my case the key was rejecting the false premise that people’s real-life moral conduct can be reliably deduced from their erotic fixations — people will argue until they’re red in the face that the leveraging of this thinking against primarily trans women is pure coincidence, and until you reject their premise, you are susceptible to their bullshit), but also, just as importantly: prioritizing friendships with trans women above any and all intracommunity transmisogyny is its own reward, on a level I find it difficult to express. “If you know you know” type thing.

Anyway, I want to also say that this ask is so, so heartening — it means the world to me that I can make some kind of measurable positive impact by putting my mouth where my politics are, and especially for you! Sending you so much love, forever. 🧡

[wearykatie]

The Journey Into the Wild Beyond

Chapter 2: Hither (Part 1)

On arrival in Prismeer, the party is dumped in Hither, one of three lands divided by thick layers of fog that make travel between them extremely difficult. This was an alien world to the player characters, and it’s my first chance to really dive into Feywild things.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I had to separate Elora from the party for this part to one, resolve the nightmare she rolled in the previous chapter, and two, to introduce a character. 

Let’s get to the nightmare first. In it, Elora is back home with her sister, Ana’leth. Ana keeps looking through Elora’s room for something Elora lost but doesn’t say what it is. It’s then she notices an ominous wardrobe at the back of the room that doesn’t belong. When Ana approaches it, it opens and four skeletal hands grab her and pull her inside. 

When Elora wakes, she’s greeted by a blue harengon (a type of rabbit folk in D&D) by the name of Alice. 

You won’t find Alice in The Wild Beyond the Witchlight because she’s a character I made specifically for this campaign. The book does provide guides who can take the party between the different lands of Prismeer but they’re a little weird. There’s a scarecrow, an oilcan, and a dandelion (meant to reference the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz). They aren’t so much guides as plot devices, they’re easy to miss if the party doesn’t go to specific areas, and I wasn’t thrilled with using a scarecrow described as being brought to life when the one of the hags imbued it with the “tormented soul” of a child.

So I exchanged three Wizard of Oz references for an Alice In Wonderland reference. Alice was enigmatic at first. Clearly knew more than she was letting on, seemed a bit mischievous, and had very vague abilities. I wanted her to be somewhat like the Cheshire Cat. She gave Elora a set of rules to play with. 

Rules are made to be bent, not broken. 

A promise made is a promise kept.

The price is in the paying, not the sum. 

The intended meaning of these would be found out later, but the first means there are no concrete rules to how things in Prismeer work unless you’re really testing the limits of that, and then you will get pushback. The second means that making a promise is equal to keeping it, if you promise someone something, it’s expected you’ll follow through. The third means that in rules of trade, as long as you’re offering something, you’re paying - monetary value doesn’t matter. 

This was kind of my replacement for the Rules of Conduct in the book which are rules Zybilna set in place and apparently enforces with some pretty twisted punishment. Like binding a thief’s scarf to his neck and then hanging him from a tree as tall as a skyscraper in undying agony for eternity. 

We will get to my Zybilna rewrites. 

Alice offered this advice, then led Elora to the rest of the party and promptly vanished into thin air. We’ll see more of her later.

The party soon found more harengons! Brigands working under the aforementioned guy who was hanged from a tree, Agdon Longscarf. The party talked and intimidated their way out of a fight and sent the brigands packing. That’s fine, there are other encounters out there.

The First and Last Random Encounter

I love random encounter tables. 

I hate running random encounters. 

My dislike comes from preparing random encounters, balancing enemies, setting up maps, and doing tons of preparation just on the off chance that maybe the party runs into that particular thing. Well, they did this time. Mud mephits. Combat went well, but it was slow as every 5e combat is, and it usually boils down to just shouting numbers at each other. 

That’s my biggest criticism with 5th edition - and yes internet, I’m aware that other games exist. Believe me, everyone who has ever dared mention D&D on the internet has been inundated with replies about how this other system is way better and far less problematic and we should really stop playing D&D because there are better games out there if we just give them a chance. I KNOW. But my 41 year old brain knows 5th edition, likes 5th edition, and isn’t likely to pick up on a new game that easily. 

What was I saying? Oh yeah, combat in D&D sucks. And I think that’s partly a scaling issue, because the more players and enemies you have the more rounds you have, and there’s not a lot of room for roleplaying while you’re trying to figure out how many d6s to roll.

But that encounter had Elora pouring an alchemy jug full of salt water onto the mud mephits to see what would happen. Because alchemist. Hmm…idea brewing. 

Early to Rise

Chapter 2 was also when Early’s player was finally able to join the game. I caught her up beforehand by running through an abbreviated version of Chapter 1 from Early’s perspective in a way that would fit with the events the rest of the party went through, but let the two stories happen in parallel without Early meeting the others until Chapter 2. No retcons for me. 

Yet. 

Early also went through the mirror portal but ended up several feet in the air. She used Featherfall to save herself, but ended up stuck in a tree dangling only inches off the ground but unable to break free. She doesn’t know how long she was like that - could be minutes, could be years. She’s the one with no sense of time. 

The party freed her, and she fit right in after they learned she was from the Magewood Academy too and was on the same quest. 

Shortly after, wells all around Hither began to erupt like geysers and the swamp-like terrain started to flood. Luckily for the party, a mobile inn happened to pass by. Oh, that’s pretty cool. What does this thing look like? How does it move about? 

*checks the book*

It’s a building that moves around on legs in the middle of a swamp. 

Wild Beyond the Witchlight writers, I know y’all read stories, you reference quite a few. Did you deliberately make an inn that would evoke images of Baba Yaga? 

So I described that horror show and somehow the players trusted that enough to get a decent night’s rest at the inn while they waited for the flood waters to recede. The innkeeper, Tsu, is an elderly druid who wants to see Zybilna return to power. 

During this downtime, Elora finally read her letter. It confirmed her worst fears - Ana had died on a mission to Falcon Hollow. This confused the players because that was an arc in Royal Flush. Ana was captured, her old teacher helped them rescue her, and everyone made it out alive. That was a couple of weeks ago in game time. Well, clearly the letter was mistaken. But, that was out of character knowledge. In character, everyone found out that Elora’s sister had just died. 

Fun Wacky Adventure Time In the Feywild! Also, Dead Siblings

Okay, so this was going to be a tough balancing act both for me and for the players. One party member is a teenager dealing with a very personal loss and she’s meant to carry on and have zany adventures and save a whole other realm. She should be curled up in a ball and crying for the rest of the game. How do you navigate around that?

Well, with friends. She’s got four friends to check on her and help her power through - one of them is a cleric with a unique perspective on death. But also, the show must go on, and K knew that, so they played Elora as kind of putting off her grief until the job was done. 

The party also got a delivery while at the inn - a gift from Titania, the Summer Queen. See, they helped one of her knights early on in Hither, and she rewarded them with a tiny acorn house. By speaking her name, they would be shrunk down and transported inside where they could take a long rest anywhere. This was an item I found in Through the Veil: Treasures of the Feywild, a book of fey-themed items recommended by a friend.

And hey, it meant I didn’t have to roll for random encounters during long rests. 

Rhin also had a dream during the night. In it, she’s witnessing a funeral she saw in her youth. A widower offered prayers to the earth to accept their beloved. Rhin also saw an elven woman dressed all in black sitting on a bench beckoning her to sit with her. The woman pointed out various other funerals happening and the ways the people conducted the ceremonies. Some were sad, some joyous, some angry, some religious. 

The woman said there was beauty in all things, even death. A skilled artist could work with the colors of death and mourning. She encouraged Rhin to recover what she lost, and as she walked away, Rhin saw that the woman’s cloak was made of raven feathers.

I’ve used dreams twice in this chapter to convey things. I know people have mixed feelings on that as a writing tool, but the nature of the things that were taken from the player characters is very personal - something they couldn’t really get clues to from other people. So, when Rhin found out her missing thing was in Hither, she got a dream or vision from the goddess of death telling her to meditate on what was missing and find it. 

Each player character would experience one or more of these dreams, and some of them delve into light horror. I really wanted the missing things to be large parts of the story that drove the player characters forward and redefined them when they got them back. 

But, that’s enough for one part. Next time, more chapter 2, more harengons, some frogs, and the first hag.

[wraithclatter]

Melissa Officinalis

A small reprieve

Amongst a lagging field

Peopled with Lemon's Balm-

In truth, there is nothing needed to be said.

But I do not operate in this fashion.

Every wild motion I have made

In this obscure dream,

Has and will always be

An offering, and as well a hunt,

For that Nameless Mystery

That spurs me on;

That I know will not be solved

While my ignorance still flashlights

Farther and farther afield,

While my heart's sonic smoke-rings

Billow out,

Obliging the fertility of possibility,

Obliging the pregnant industries of Life-

And of this I am thrilled.

I feel the Heavens

Stepping into my body

As the Matrix is resurrected:

"Do not resist or you shall cease to exist!"

The mantra corrupted scientific skeletons

Scream in their jack-booted automation-

Impersonal, sterile, castrated of that Mystery;

Their false feeling of authority spurring

My rosaried heart ever onward

In a rebelliousness that would have been

Deemed appropriate conduct

Not even a few spent generations ago .

But here, cradled in Melissa's huddlings,

With the whispering of leaf and long-worm,

I remember My Eden, ever-present,

Eternity of Storms always bucking back

Against the Net of Night and failed

Fascism of powerless parasites.

Autumn is leaning in with open eyes-

Maybe even fearful:

For the train of seasons has been

disrupted by the machinations

Of cowardly tyrants

And The Eternal Course,

The down-going crest of the

Wave of Wild life is always

Seething in its erratic celestial sojourning,

The Jaws Of Anti-Patterned Entropy

Devouring the world in its

Ferocity, fervor, hunger-

I see her consternation

And I make peace all the same,

Finding rest among the small powers

Of the principalities of

The fragrant Plant Kingdom.

Again, in truth,

Nothing needs to be spoken;

Breath is enough.

(09/23/24)

[judesmoonbeauty]

Crown's S-Rank Mission Story Event: Jude Jazza's 95k Bonus Story

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Dividers: @/natimiles

Victor: Now....this mission is to infiltrate the mansion of a trader who is conducting illegal human trafficking.

Victor: I want you to go to his mansion and find hard evidence of his involvement in human trafficking.

Victor spreads a detailed document on his desk. On it was a picture of a man who appeared to be the target.

Ellis: Oh, this guy…….

Kate: Do you know him?

Ellis: He's the one who's been clashing with Jude lately saying, "I'm a better merchant".

Jude: ….Ah. That guy, I remember him.

Ellis: If I recall correctly, last month he said, "The subordinates I have with me are stronger."

Kate: So, what happened?

Jude: Ellis sank his opponent in seconds.

(Ellis, as expected……)

Jude: It doesn't seem like much of a mission, but do we hafta take this one along too?

Jude points at me with his chin and asks Victor.

Victor: The mansion is large. Wouldn't it be easier to search if you had someone to help you?

Victor: Or is there a reason why you can't take Kate with you?

Jude: ….. I don't mind. Even if I tell ya not to come, you'll come, so at the very least, don't slow me down.

Kate: ….Understood.

It seems that the target merchant's mansion has a lot of servants coming and going.

I went undercover as a maid and Ellis as a gardener, and so we each searched for documents.

(Okay, I was able to sneak in as a maid safely……)

(Jude arranged to buy us some time by talking business with the target, so let's find the documents while we can.)

Housemaid: The new arrival, Kate..... was it? Can you go clean the master's room now that we're done here?

Kate: Yes! I’m coming!

I searched the room for a while, looking for anything suspicious, but could not find the documents.

(I don't think it's in this room...I think it's time to search another place.)

Merchant: Hmm? You must be the new maid.

Just as I was about to leave the room, the merchant came in.

Kate: Ah, yes! I just finished cleaning!

(Why are you here?! Jude should be stalling you for time!)

Merchant: I see. Then, you can take a break here.

Kate:…..Yes?

Merchant: I was just thinking of playing with a girl like you.

The man's hand reached out and forcefully grabbed my shoulder.

Kate: Oh, no, you can't be serious…….

Merchant: Did you refuse too? 

Seriously, most of the servants these days are so cowardly that they yell at you, and quit only after messing with them a little bit.

(That's the reason why there are so many servants coming and going……?!)

Merchant: If you had some money, you'd keep quiet too. Here, I'll give you this.

The man takes out a bill, shoves it into my apron pocket, and leans in close.

Kate: Stop….

(I'm scared! But if I make a fuss here, I'll ruin the mission…..!)

(Somehow, I have to get through this peacefully……)

Frustrated, I try to think of a way out, but nothing comes to mind.

At that moment, the door to the room suddenly opened.

Jude: You're so lively for the middle of the day.

Merchant: Hey…….Jude Jazza! How did you get here?

Jude: I offered ya a business meeting, but ya didn't show up at the table, so I came to pick ya up. Cry with joy.

Jude: Time is money. If you're a merchant, ya understand, right? The price for makin' me wait is high.

Merchant: That was just a slight to humiliate you! Don't come into my room without permission! Get out!

Jude: I’ll leave once I’ve collected the things I’ve forgotten. Let’s go, ya dullard princess. 

Jude brushed off the merchant's hand on my shoulder, and pulled my hand forcefully.

Kate: Jude, the documents……

Jude: Ellis found them in the barn.

Kate: Good…..!

Merchant: Wait, what do you mean "documents"?

Jude: Incriminatin’ documents provin' that ya were involved in human traffickin'. My condolences.*

Merchant: You guys were in on it!? It's cowardly to use a honey trap to attract my attention in order to get that.

(……I don't remember doing that.)

Merchant: Shit, if that happens, you'll be along for the ride too! Jude Jazza!! 

The merchant went to the window and pulled the cord that was hanging down.

Immediately, the sound of a loud bell rang out in the mansion.

Kate: What did you do…..?!

Jude: Shit, that burnin' smell...

Merchant: Ha-ha-ha! This is a fire generator.…..The entire mansion is on fire!

Merchant: I was prepared to erase evidence left in the mansion in case of an emergency.

Merchant: I'd rather die here with you than get caught anyway!

Kate: Oh my god…..!

Merchant: Come to think of it, I didn't like you from the first time I met you. Jude!

Merchant: The business partner I had my eye on for money already had you— ugh!

The merchant man was about to say something, but was knocked out by Jude's uppercut…..

Jude: I don't give a shit what he thinks or how he got into crime. Run away.

Kate: It's no good here either. We can't get through with the flames.

Jude: Then, we'll hafta go out the window.

Jude opens the hallway window and looks out.

Kate: Window……we’re on the 4th floor!

Jude: If we follow the rain pipe, we can get down. If we fall, the trees below will cushion the impact.

Kate: ……

The pipe that’s visible through the window is deteriorated, and doesn’t appear durable enough to support two people.

Kate: Jude, please go out here. I’ll look for another exit.

Jude: Another exit? Ya know somethin'?

Kate: I can't…… be sure! So, Jude, please go out here!

Kate: You won’t break the rain drain by yourself Jude.

Even as we were conversing, the flames seemed to be growing stronger, and a loud explosion could be heard somewhere.

Jude: Spit it out quickly before we burn to a crisp…….

The flames were so intense that I knew there was no time for arguments.

Kate: ….. When I was researching this mansion in advance.

Kate: I noticed that there was an unnatural protruding space underground.

Kate: I thought there might be something in the direction of the protrusion, so I followed it…..

Kate: I noticed that there was a detached outbuilding a little further away from the mansion.

Jude: Detached….Oh, that.

Jude looks at the building outside the window.

Kate: Yes. The couple who used to own the mansion had a child.

Kate: But the child was born with fair skin and was sensitive to the sun, and apparently lived in an outbuilding with few windows!

Kate: Maybe there is a hidden underground passage between the outbuilding and the mansion!

Jude: Really.

Jude turns on his heel and heads toward the stairs.

Kate: What, are you going to look for it?! But there's no proof, right?

Jude: In that case, ya should just run down the rain pipe. I'm goin'.

Then Jude and I ran through the burning mansion and managed to reach the basement.

Kate: The unnatural space was in this room.

Jude: ……..

Jude starts banging on the wall with a serious look on his face.

Jude: The walls are thin here. There's a space over there.

Kate: I knew it ......! I'll look for a hammer or something!

Jude: No need.

When Jude throws a roundhouse kick, the basement wall is blown away. And beyond that, there was an underground passage.

(It's amazing how you can break through a wall with a kick…..)

Jude:……It's somethin' you often find in aristocratic mansions. They’ll dig underground and make somethin' like this.

Jude looked astonished as he lit a cigarette with a practiced motion.

Without putting the cigarette in his mouth, he held it out toward the underground passage.

Then, the cigarette smoke trailed into the passage from the back of the hallway.

Jude: …..Thankfully, there's some air. Looks like there's an exit on the other side.

Kate: Let’s go! 

As the two of us proceed through the dimly lit underground passage……

As I stared, the passageway led to the annex.

Kate: Good! We made it out!

We exit the villa and take a breath. Looking toward the mansion, I was horrified to see flames rising so high.

(If we hadn't found the underground passage, we might have died….)

Kate: Oh……I’m sorry.

Jude: ….. I don't know what you're apologizin' for.

Kate: Even though the documents had already been found and the mission had been completed, you still came to the room to look for me, Jude.

Jude: .....That merchant was a womanizer. I had a feelin’ he'd catch ya easily. 

Kate: Perhaps that's why you hesitated to let me accompany you on your first mission?

Jude: Because it would slow us down.

Kate: …….. Plus, we had to flee the fire...... I'm sorry.

Jude: Haha, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, bowin' your head.

Jude: It's true that you were involved in a fire because of your lack of sense.

Jude: But, I guess it was a credit to ya for findin' the underground passage?

I thought I saw Jude faintly smile and my eyes were drawn to him.

(It's not every day that I get a smile like this.)

(I feel like Jude’s acknowledged me....... I'm so happy!)

Jude: Let’s go home, princess.

Kate: Yes! ……ssk.

Kate: ….Jude, could you please go home first?

Jude: Huh?

Kate: I was so busy that I didn't notice it before, but I think I sprained my leg.

Jude: You're so stupidly clumsy, ya know that? Damn, you're a handful, princess.

With a troublesome expression on his face, Jude approached me and squatted on the spot.

Kate: Um….?

Jude: Get on 'fore I change my mind.

Kate: Are you sure?

Jude: The mission won't be completed without your report. It'll be a nuisance if ya don’t come home early.

Kate: Oh, thank you very much....

When I gently climbed onto his back, Jude stood up strong.

Then, he began to walk carefully, without any danger.

Jude's warmth made me so happy, I couldn't help but laugh, and Jude heard it.

Jude: What are you laughing at? I'll drop ya.

Kate: No, please don't!

I hurriedly clung to Jude to avoid being dropped.

Jude: You’re heavy. Should I just throw ya into the river?

Kate: I won't let you go Jude, so then I'll take you with me Jude. 

Jude: After being attacked by fire, now it’s a water attack. It’s all because of you. 

Despite his grumbling and complaining, Jude carried me securely on his back so he didn’t drop me.

(It was a difficult mission, but I'm glad I did my best.)

Even though I'm being swayed back and forth between coldness and kindness, I can't take my eyes off Jude.

(I want Jude to recognize me more... so I'll keep trying from now on.)

***Thanks to further clarification, the translation has been updated to just use the term “honey trap” when the merchant speaks to Jude, versus what I previously rendered as “bait and switch honeytrap”.

*This was changed from “black” to incriminating.

[Master List]

[myastrouniverse]

April/2024🌝♐️I notice Sag people are always at their best in a fight.

🚑▪️🌽 America has turned into an island of broken addicts. I think in order to survive the rat race, you have to find something to keep you motivated. I may not be able to live my life, but I can always find something to live for. In other words, do what you can with what you have. What else have you got?

🌞 Λ 🎸 I have self confidence issues I hide behind a Leo rising. I’m like the cowardly lion roaring…”full of sound and fury, signifying”…🤡💩

🌝🔺 ♂️I thought I saw you limping in the hallway wearing a Fonzie coat. I know it’s just psych ops fucking with me. I know the ghost of you and it’s gone. I sometimes imagine it’s back, but that is just my imagination.

🌝🔺 ♆︎ I appreciate anyone’s concern for my mental health. I certainly feel on edge. If this helps, NOTHING shocks me anymore. NOTHING. If existence completely deteriorates and I am left floating through the vastness of space, it would probably be LESS SHOCKING; than the shit I have already been through. Try me. I can if necessary, find a healthy way to process my emotions. It’s difficult on occasion, but I do make an effort to function in society. I would benefit by hearing any news or being approached with any important news by someone I know, like Tara. Tonya really needs her own handlers. She is a Sag, and she is a mutha fucking crazy ass fighter. She really scares me these days. Tara shouldn’t have to deal with her. I would hang with Tara more, if Tonya wasn’t so difficult to deal with. You know Harley Quinn from suicide squad? Picture her looking twenty years older with NO TEETH. That is Tonya.

🌞🔺🦚 My scalp/jaw area is feeling almost completely normal. I don’t have a fucking cyber crystal skull. That was that stupid fucking jar of monoatomic gold that insane doctor, poured into my scalp. She was wearing a tattoo of blue flowers running down her shoulder to her elbow on her left arm, I believe. That bitch was a psychopath murderer. How does anyone fucking get that evil? She was from Peace Health hospital. She needs to be in jail for conducting experimental surgeries on the vulnerable without their consent and then trying to hide their bodies in the mental ward.

🌝 < ☊ Yeah, it’s difficult to be alone but I’d rather be alone than around crazy people and no one is passing my reality checks.

🌝 < ☿︎ I am getting sort of tired of looking for messages within the messages. It’s going to lead me right into the abyss if I keep playing into the games. Is this really entertaining?

The Temptations - Just My Imagination

Krzysztof Gil — Stardust (oil on canvas, 2024)

[sneakysmediacorner]

just finished dostoyevsky's the double!

First of all, great audiobook - after devouring as many as i did last year, i've started to really appreciate when an audiobook's narrator can properly tune in to the novel's tone and imbue their narration with just the right amount of emotion and exaggeration. the double's narrator did a fantastic job of making yakov petrovich sound pathetic and uncertain, and of conveying the other characters' confidence and contempt towards him.

what struck me most about the double is that i think i was able to put my finger on something i've felt about dostoyevsky's works before - the way he sort of... Goes There. he often chooses to portray sort of a worst case scenario for anxious, socially graceless, unconfident people. his characters inhabit a world that truly is out to get them, and are surrounded by characters who will misconstrue everything they say. if golyadkin thinks someone is scheming against him and acts accordingly, it will always turn out they were actually being completely honest, and will be confused and outraged at his insinuations. if he approaches someone with the assumption they are acting in good faith, they will always turn out to have indeed been scheming against him.

the double indulges in a very specific nightmare of someone who doesn't know what the rules of social conduct are. i myself have often felt this particular dread - that of going into an interaction convinced that confidence is everything, that if you just act like you know what you should be doing then everyone will believe you - and then getting the feeling that everyone around you knows you're bluffing, and finds you pitiful and embarrassing. golyadkin constantly tries to wink and nudge at his interlocutors, to imply something in the hopes they'll follow along. but they never do, and they don't even have the decency to pretend they understand his meaning in order not to embarrass themselves! no, instead they keep a straight face and ask golyadkin what it is, exactly, that he means? every character except our hero has the confidence and self-assuredness to call his bluff or demand explanation - but when things are being insinuated to golyadkin, he is the one feeling foolish and confused.

i was particularly struck by two exchanges - one between golatkin and his doctor early on in the novel, and another between goliatkin and petrushka, towards the end. in the first, golyadkin desperately tries to explain something, clear his name of some accusation, but is clearly unwilling to name the offense, and so resorts to vague allusions to certain persons and certain events. his doctor, annoyed and maybe confused with this style of speaking, refuses to try to understand who and what golyadkin might be referring to, and gently dismisses him. in the second exchange, petrushka is taking leave of golyadkin with no explanation or justification whatsoever, and golyadkin's shy questions are answered with vague insinuations - but whereas the doctor had enough self-assuredness to refuse to stoop down to the level of golyadkin's cowardly speech, golyadkin himself is the one trying to match petrushka's tone. petrushka also keeps peppering these "we all know"'s into his answers, which gives off an extremely patronising impression. this all paints golyadkin as not only a coward, but someone who so lacks confidence in his own understanding of social situations - confidence in his own perception of reality, even! - that he will bow down to whatever his interolcutor is saying, even if said person is someone inifnitely inferior to him in terms of social rank.

as a socially anxious and generally socially confused person, this image of the world - where everyone else seems to know what's going on, how to behave, where everyone seems to have the confidence to live their truth straighforwardly, but you are forever unsure and prone to embarrassing yourself due to not reading the room well enough - is so painfully familiar to me. i've said before that dostoyevsky is the most personal writer i've ever encountered, and from reading the double i certainly get the impression that he must have known some of the same anxieties i and many others experience decades after he lived. it makes for a really incredible reading experience.

i also wonder if it might be a reflection of the time and place dostoyevsky was writing in - i don't know about petersburg specifically, but 19th century russia must have been a confusing and difficult place to navigate when it came to social customs. i would imagine there was a lot of tension with the old aristocratic customs coexisting with new, industrial ways of organising society, with growing social unrest and discontent, with increasing influences from the west. there are mentions of changing times and new standards scattered throughout the book, so i imagine there is something to that. i would also imagine the kind of social anxieties i read into the book to be complicated even further by the rigid, multilayered rank system of 19th century russia, which sought to categorise social rank with an unprecedented amount of detail.

[your-villainous-neighbour]

The "outlaw" part got me thinking, since prostitution was legal in France. So I looked it up. Apparently it was only tolerated as a profession if sex workers were licensed, registered with the prefecture, and undergoing health examinations twice a week to test for STDs. All of which, of course, fantine couldn't afford to do. Technically, she is an outlaw. But there's a very, very thin line separating her from *legal* prostitution.

So I think it indeed is a situation of Javert being a staunch, stubborn, legalist, but not by virtue of genuine belief. Not at all. If anything, he's using the little nuances and technicalities of the law as a safety net, of sorts, to shield and uphold his own hatred for the lower classes (which he comes from. So there's a nice blend of self hatred too somewhere in there).

It's when this safety net breaks that he falls right into the seine.

Anyway. would he have arrested her anyway if she'd flashed her license and registration? I mean. Yeah. The man's a cunt I'll be honest. But he also probably would've been a little less of a dick about it, I think

One more important thing to consider; he's an arrogant PRICK. Javert didn't bother conducting an investigation of what actually happened because he saw, with his own two eyes, a woman beating the living crap out of a guy (go fantine) and decided that's all he needs to know. He didn't need any more information than what HE saw. What HE thought. He made up his mind then and there, and nothing she says changes his mind. He sees himself as synonymous to the law. And the law can't be wrong. Etc.

Both prejudice and arrogance come into play here again when he decides she's been lying about bamatabois instigating it in the first place.

So, basically-

Javert's never had a critical thought in his head once in his life. And as one does, he accidentally ended up with like zero self awareness. Absolutely none. Like, sure, he's a legalist, but it's not motivated by righteousness like he believes. It's motivated by ease. And by his need to find some sort of acceptance in society. He's too cowardly to develop an actual conscience, because that would require a little questioning, and a little rebellion, both of which he thinks he can't afford to do (as he considers himself enough of an outcast already). So he lets his boner for the law be dictated by arbitrary norms of social hierarchy as well. While lying to himself that it isn't.

Pathetic little rat man. i could've fixed him

Les Misérables - Section 1.5.13 - Solution of Some Questions of Municipal Police

The thing that stands out to me about the scene whete Javert arrests Fantine is that Javert isn’t actually motivated by enforcing the law.

That may sounds counterintuitive. Isn’t Javert’s defining characteristic that he cares about virtually nothing except enforcing the law, at the expense of mercy and compassion?

Yes to the latter; no to the former. Javert’s motivation, shown throughout this scene is not enforcing the law, it is enforcing the social hierarchy, the class system.

M. Madeleine in fact points this out:

“The truth is that I was passing through the square when you arrested this woman; there was a crowd still there; I learned the circumstances; I know all about it; it is the citizen who was in the wrong, and who, by a faithful police, would have been arrested.”

In saying this, Madeleine emphasizes what Javert did not do: ask anyone else what had happened, and whether Bamatabois had done anything to provoke Fantine, as, in fact, he had.

Moreover, the law says that Madeleine does have jurisdiction here to decide Fantine’s case, and it’s delightful to see Valjean out-rules-lawyer Javert, noting that Javert is (if I understand correctly) employed by the national government, whereas this case falls under municipal jurisdiction, which Madeleine has authority over:

“The matter of which you speak belongs to the municipal police. By the terms of articles nine, eleven, fifteen, and sixty-six of the code of criminal law, I am the judge of it. I order that this woman be set at liberty.”

“But, Monsieur Mayor – ”

“I refer you to article eighty-one of the law of December 13, 1799, upon illegal imprisonment.”

Javert does not have any rebuttal to Madeleine’s citation of the actual law.

Now, let’s look at Javert’s motivations and emphases throughout the chapter:

1) He called all the ideas of which his mind was capable around the grand thing that he was doing. The more he examined the conduct of this girl, the more he revolted at it. It was clear that he had seen a crime committed. He had seen, there in the street, society represented by a property holder and an elector, insulted and attacked by a creature who was an outlaw and an outcast. A prostitute had assaulted a citizen.

2) To see a woman of the town spit in the face of a mayor was a thing so monstrous that in his most daring suppositions he would have thought it sacrilege to believe it possible.

3) “This wretched woman has insulted a citizen.”

4) “This girl fell upon Monsieur Bamatabois, who is an elector and the owner of that fine house with a balcony, that stand at the corner of the esplanade, three stories high, all of hewn stone. Indeed, there are some things in this world which must be considered.”

If Javert was merely a ruthlessly impartial enforcer of the law against all who broke it (which would be bad enough!) then Bamatabois’ house would have been perfectly irrelevant, and the fact that he attacked Fantine first would have been highly relevant. But that is not what Javert cares about. What matters to him is being the enforcer of the class system, of the respectable and propertied against the poor and miserable. He diesn’t need to do anything so pointless as investigate anything, because the entire point, to him, is that Fantine is intrinsically guilty simply because of who she is.

[erabundus]

@momijiba &&. said... ❛ thank you for holding my hand and staying with me last night, i vaguely remember what i did... and i want to apologize to you for my behaviour ❜ kazuha had the urge to grab ren's hand and intertwine their hands together and just sit there in each others company. but he wasn't sure if he should as he felt like he hurt ren. he didn't even know why he decided to drink so much sake in one go. and he wouldn't do it again. but what happened has happened and he knew he had to own up for it. kazuha's eyes studied ren's flawless face and tried searching for any shape of resentment or any indication that he would walk out of his life.

the  gratitude  and  sorrow  were met  with  silence.  ren  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  pinning  the  ronin  beneath  piercing  gaze.  his  jaw  clenched,  teeth  grinding  in  dissatisfaction  —  he  had  hoped  kazuha  would  (  in  resurfacing  from  his  drunken  state  )  simply  FORGET  the  chaos  of  the  night  prior.  perhaps  it  was  a  wish  born  of  cowardly  sentiment;  the  wanderer  was  oft  one  to  advocate  for  facing  the  consequences  whatever  action  wrought.  yet  in  this  particular  circumstance,  he  thought  it  would  be  easier  to  let  the  matter  slide  —  allow  it  to  fade,  in  a  blur  of  frustration  and  alcohol  and  unfortunate  decisions  all  around.  ren  was  not  an  innocent  party;  he  deserved  no  apology. just as his own blood had been ( metaphorically ) spilled, blood stained his own hands in turn.

he  didn't  want  to  talk  about  it.  he  didn't  want  to  think  about  why  witnessing  kazuha  drape  himself  over  someone  else,  even  in  an  alcohol-induced  stupor,  managed  to  invoke  such  a  SHAMEFUL  reaction.  it  wasn't  anger,  he  had  come  to  realize  —  and  that  was  the  most  mortifying  thing  about  it,  wasn't  it?  anger  would  have  been  easy  to  RATIONALIZE.  anger  was  a  safe  feeling  —  empowering,  demanding  of  respect.

...  he  was  SCARED.  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  until  even  kazuha's  near  endless  patience  with  his  imperfections  reached  its  end.  he  merely  wondered  if  that  day  had  come  earlier  than  expected.

❝  you  don't  need  to  thank  me.  ❞  ren's  tone  was  clipped;  curt.  wasn't  that  sort  of  behavior  EXPECTED  from  one's  partner?  it  was  akin  to  expressing  gratitude  for  breathing.  (  that  breathing  wasn't  necessary  for  the  likes  of  him  notwithstanding.  )   ❝  you  don't  need  to  apologize,  either.  ❞  with  any  luck,  that  would  have  been  the  end  of  it  —  yet  he  could  tell  from  the  desperate  look  splayed  across  his  human's  countenance  it  most  certainly  wasn't.  if  he  didn't  nip  this  in  the  bud,  he  could  only  imagine  it  would  continue  to  eat  kazuha  alive.  seeing  the  ronin  dart  about  as  though  walking  upon  eggshells,  head  clouded  by  some  imaginary  resentment  simply  wouldn't  do. it wasn't healthy, wasn't conductive for either of their sakes.

the  wanderer  spun,  brisk  steps  clearing  the  distance  between  them.   ❝  stop  thinking  so  loud.  ❞   ren  hissed  —  the  (  odd  )  demand  punctuated  by  a  hand  darting  out  to  grab  kazuha's  own.  ❝  don't  tell  me  you're  still  wracked  with  uncertainty?  you  know  how  i  feel  about  REPEATING  myself.  ❞  yet  fierce  tone  aside,  his  features  were  soon  to  smooth  out  —  allowing  for  a  gentler  look  to  be  displayed  upon  doll-like  visage.  i'm  not  good.  he  wanted  to  say.  i'm  not  kind.  i'm not human. but  you  still  find  a  reason  to  love  me,  anyway  —  do  you  have  any  idea  what  i  would  do  for  you? yet once again, FEAR commanded his actions and smothered the words before they could escape him. perhaps it was for the best.

❝  don't  insult  me.  ❞   the  wanderer  said  softly,  pressing  his  lips  to  kazuha's  knuckles.  ❝  don't  ever  doubt  my  devotion  to  you.  i  said  i  would  take  responsibility  for  your  life.  i  wouldn't  make  that  claim  if  i  didn't  mean  it.  ❞

[bakugosbratx]

Baby Eyes | Mafia Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Some non-con, blood, murder, Mafia Bakugo, Fem! Reader, bdsm, sexual intercourse, size kink, degrading, orgasm denial, Stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, etc.

Words: 2,896

A/N: thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate. It is really fun doing this collaboration with you. Daisy’s Event

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @milkthistletea @idfkwtfgof click here to see my other works

Vegas.

Many dream of this city. The gambling, the drinks, the money, the night life. It has it all. Your dreams and worse nightmares can be made here all within a single night. The world may be cruel, but Vegas is even crueler. At least, it is for Y/N.

Your pistol was held tight in your trembling little hand. You have not been properly trained for this moment since in your late teens. The weapon felt foreign to the touch. You are now in your twenties and you are usually not doing this line of work, but since you wanted to disturb your significant other while he was working, he handed you the gun for you to handle.

“Since you want to be such a fucking cry baby, here.” He growled, shoving the pistol into your pounding chest. You gasped.

“S-Sir, I—“ You stammered, using the name he loved to be called by you. You would help it lessen your punishment, but the man did not budge.

“Don’t keep me waiting, brat. Finish this piece of shit off swiftly and quit your damn crying.”

You watched as he left into the city lights of Vegas before turning your attention back to the male before you. The man begged for mercy beneath you and your mouth feels dry.

“P-Please, ma’am. I-I have a w-wife and t-three beautiful c-children. I’ll g-give you your m-money next week. I-I promise.” The fearful man stammered amongst the abandoned dark alleyway. You have heard this speech by many like him when Katsuki brought you on his missions. It should just fall on deaf ears, but tears still brimmed your eyes as memories flooded back to the forefront of your damaged mind.

These memories are the reason you are in this predicament. You begged and squealed, running towards Katsuki and hanging onto his arm when he directed you to stay in the car. You two could have been gone by now, but you decided to intervene. Now you are here, about to commit another murder.

Your father was in this same position a few years ago. Begging for mercy before Katsuki slaughtered him right in front of you. Your cries still echo this alleyway during late, breezy nights. People think you have been disposed of as well. That is what eventually happened to the remainder of your family, but you are just under a new identity.

The barrel of the gun digs deeper into the victim’s temple. You attempt to find your strength to pull the trigger. You need to before Katsuki returns. He does not like waiting and you really are pushing what is left of his buttons today.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper out, closing your sorrow filled eyes and pressing down on the trigger. The feeling of blood splattering amongst your cold skin brought back even more unwanted memories. Falling to your knees, you began to cry hysterically in front of the fallen corpse.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you after a few moments. Katsuki has been watching the whole time and you know it. This is what made the experience even worse. You know his judgment is coming. He gave you a task and although you succeeded, it isn’t good enough. He hates your emotional ways. ‘Baby eyes’ as he would say. Always crying over something or someone.

A big calloused hand entangling into your hair with a deep sigh following. You could not look up at him. You hate him right now. You need to, at least, but the feeling of his large fingers stroking your scalp delivered comfort. A comfort he gives and takes away on a whim.

“Took you long enough.” Katsuki grumbled. You gaze up at him with a pitiful look he knows all too well. There was a certain aura to you that changed when your mind drifted to that night. The night he murdered your family right in front of you and all you could do is watch in terror.

“I-I’m sorry.” You muttered out, already accepting that Katsuki is annoyed with you. This is not your first murder and sure will not be your last. He has groomed you long enough for you to know your role.

Katsuki kicked the man’s head with his large foot so he could see the man’s pleading face. Katsuki is cruel in that way. He loved seeing his victim’s expressions in their final moments. Especially when his beautiful woman killed them.

Digging into the man’s pockets, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and black leather wallet to review what was contained inside it. The little cash the man held is now in Katsuki’s possession.

“Marlboro Reds,” Katsuki commented as he slipped the cigarette in between his moist lips and lit it up, “nice.”

Turning around to face you after letting the nicotine enter his system, he looks down at you. Grabbing your chin, you are forced to meet his gaze. You tremble under his touch.

“What did I say about that crying shit?” Katsuki recalls one of your many lectures.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, a little too loud for your own good. Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed together, not pleased with your tone. His hand found a way to your neck, giving you a nice squeeze as he guides you up to your feet.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki growls, his red orbs shooting venom into you. Your arm is now tight into his grip as he leads you to the parked all black Lamborghini.

You climb into the passenger seat while Katsuki climbs into the driver’s. You used the napkins in the glove compartment to clean up your soiled face. Katsuki is already on his second cigarette as he drives to the mansion you both share. Considering how fed up he is with you and your antics, you are surprised that half of the box is not gone by now. You know you are in for it once you arrive home.

Katsuki pulled up to the house after some time. Your tears did not pause once the whole way there which only agitated Katsuki even more. He did not say a word as you know to follow the tall man inside. Straight up the spiral marble staircase to the master bedroom, you begin undressing as Katsuki does not appreciate the mess in his living space. Along with the fact you are always to be naked within the bedroom. That rule was set once you turned eighteen years of age.

You sat on the edge of the bed, not enjoying the look in Katsuki’s angry eyes. His muscular arms folded against his chest as he leaned against the wall, glaring into you. You feel small — as usual — within his presence. He is making sure you remember your place.

“What the hell were you thinking out there, Y/N?” Katsuki begins after moments have passed.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumbled, twiddling your thumbs in your bare lap. Your insides are curling with each passing second. You are not sure why you did what you did, honestly. You have seen numerous people plead for forgiveness at Katsuki’s feet, but Katsuki is always going to be a merciless man. Your body acted before your brain could compute. You just wanted to save him. Salvage your loved ones death in some way, shape, or form, but it can never be done.

“You have to give me a better excuse than that. This little rebellion you're on lately isn’t doing nothing but getting you into heaps of trouble.”

“It’s not a rebellion!” You snap back, tears still spilling from your orbs. “You killed my family, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, used to this statement coming from you. “Here we go again.” He scoffs with a tsk following shortly after. “We’ve been over this, Y/N. Your father sold you and your family out for cash. If anything, you should be fucking grateful I even let you live.”

“Grateful?” You repeat in disbelief, a half hearted chuckle escaping your lips. Maybe it was because Katsuki let you take another life, maybe your parents' spirits are coming through, or maybe you’re just so fed up with him, but a sudden burst of confidence runs through you.

You stand up, strolling over to the man before you. His jaw is clenching as he examines each cowardly step you take towards him. You glare up to the man before you, quivering before his mighty presence.

“You killed my family, Katsuki,” you repeat through gritted teeth and clenched fists, “I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki challenged, his profound amused smirk appearing. The look in your glossy irises said all the words you didn’t have the courage to speak. “Good thing I really don’t give a fuck about your forgiveness, princess.”

Katsuki’s words soaked into your veins like venom. His smug looks always made you want to beat it off of him. Ever since you have met him. You both know you have no match against him. He will always win. Always.

You have been stuck with him since you were fifteen years old. You two never had any relationship or any sexual conduct until you were the legal age of eighteen. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fall for him over the years. He is all you know and Katsuki grew to like you over the years. Though he trained you to be the woman he wants you to be for him, you do throw a tantrum or two when needed.

“I hate you.” You sniveled.

“Sure you do. Let’s clean up that pretty face of yours so I can stuff it, eh?” Katsuki chuckled, cupping your chin with one hand so he can wipe your nose with a handkerchief with the other. You attempted to break loose of his firm grasp, but the male was not even phased.

“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me.” You admit allowed, still keeping the same angry tone within your words.

Katsuki arched his eyebrow, releasing your face from his grip and discarding the used cloth into the waste bin. “Considering the show you put on out there tonight, you’re lucky I’m not doing worse to you. I can always make that pretty ass of yours bruised too if you’d like?”

You immediately shake your head no. Your bottom is still a bit sore from two weeks ago when Katsuki put you over his knee. You are just now able to sit normal again. You do not need to go back to that.

“No, sir.” You stutter out, backing away from him and putting your hands behind your back. Katsuki is already pouring himself some whiskey into a whiskey glass that you make sure is always waiting on his dresser. He always enjoys a good drink after a long mission.

You take his black suit jacket off of him like expected and lay it on the dirty laundry hamper. Katsuki is already sitting on the bed, sipping on his alcoholic beverage, waiting for you to get to work. Kneeling before him, you begin unzipping his slacks and tugging down his underwear to reveal his erected cock. You take a moment to contemplate your future actions. You really did not want his dick in your mouth, but like Katsuki said before, you do not have a choice in the matter.

Your train of thought is derailed when Katsuki tugs on your hair. “Isn’t going to suck itself, brat. Get to work.”

Mentally groaning, your tongue swipes his length before placing kisses on the tip. Slowly, you begin taking in inch—by—inch. Saliva slid down his cock by the time you had it in your throat. Choking noises fed Katsuki’s already inflated ego.

“Can’t talk much with my cock down your throat, huh?” He teased, taking another sip of his whiskey. “For someone who claimed they didn’t want my cock to begin with, you sure are deep throating it rather quickly.”

You ignored his usual insults as you came up for air. You let out small coughs then go in for more, every vein being pleased with your tongue as you take it all in. Katsuki groans in pleasure as you pick up the speed. His cock is coated in your saliva as you did not slow down once to catch air. It wasn’t worth the ego boost he would feel from knowing he is too big for you.

Katsuki’s whiskey went unfinished as he could not focus on drinking it. Cum soon fills your hollow cheeks and down your throat as he releases into you. Not a drop was missed as you milked his cock. You were rewarded with a head pat.

“On the bed,” Katsuki instructs, “all fours.”

“Do I have to?” You whine. Katsuki vigorously grabs your chin, staring down into you. The room is dark, but his crimson eyes seemed to glow.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on this fucking bed and shut your Goddamn mouth.” Katsuki hisses, sending chills down your spine. You do as you are told like he taught you. Arching your back, your ass is now in his perfect viewing. Katsuki’s clothes discarded to the hardwood floor below, his dick already erected at the sight of you.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Katsuki asked, rhetorically. He spreads you open more for his personal view. “Yeah, that’s it.” He comments, overviewing all of you. One of his hands stroked his cock while the other pressed on your begging clit. You let out a soft moan, hoping he didn’t hear.

Placing his hands on your hips, he drags you closer to him. Leveling you with his cock, the tip slowly slips into your entrance then proceeding to pick up full speed. Your cunt swallows all of him, hugging his cock with each rhythmic thrust. You can feel your tight walls get stretched by his girth with each entry he makes, not even giving you time to get used to his size as he exits to repeat the same process. No matter how many times you two have sex, you will never get used to Katsuki’s length and size.

“Katsuki—“ You sob in pleasure and in pain.

“Shut it, slut. You’re going to take all of my fucking cock and like it. I’m going to fuck the brat out of you tonight.” Katsuki demands, pressing down on your spine so your ass is more perked up for him to smack periodically. Your cries and moans are muffled into the European satin sheets below. You grip onto them for support as Katsuki does not slow down once.

Your pussy pulsates with each thrust. It was about to give out on you and cum all over his cock. Though you did not want to give him the satisfaction, your cunt had other plans as it became tighter around Katsuki’s length.

“Aw, is someone going to cum?” Katsuki coo’s condescendingly, beginning to go agonizingly slow.

You lift your head to beg for sweet release. “Please let me cum, sir. Pretty please. I need to oh so badly.” You sobbed. His silence made your insides do flips. His slow strokes did not once stop and his nails dug into your thighs.

“No.” Katsuki finally denies as he knows you cannot take anymore. You gasp, your heart stopping for a split second.

“Katsuki, please.” You hiccuped. “I really need to.”

“Should’ve thought about that before throwing a tantrum today. Good girls get to cum.” Katsuki shrugged, using his long muscular arm to push your head back into the mattress. “Now shut the hell up while I fuck you senseless.”

Just like Katsuki stated, he fucked you until his high was met. Of course, he did not make it easy as he was about to bust, he would go slower to edge himself. He wanted this to be a punishment to remember. The whole time, you behaved and did not cum. No matter how many times Katsuki tried to get you to slip, you refused.

“C’mon and cum, brat. Y’know you wanna.” Katsuki would tease with immaturity. All you could say was incoherent “no thank you’s.” A soft rub on your ass was telling you that you passed his test.

Countless minutes, maybe even hours, have passed until Katsuki decided he was ready to release himself. “You can cum now.” He finally grants. You did not get to even process his words as your pussy released onto his cock. Babbles of pleasure and gratitude escaped from your lips.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” Katsuki praises, his cock now removed from you. You whine at the hollowness you felt.

“Lay on your back.” He instructs, doing his best to keep it together. You follow his request and switch over to your back. “Play with your tits.”

Your fingers grab onto your sensitive nipples, swirling on them before giving them a nice little pinch. Katsuki stood over you, stroking his cock that is covered in his pre-cum.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” Katsuki praised once more, analyzing your lewd faces as your fingers played with your breast.

“Mm, cover me with your cum.” You encouraged, rubbing your thighs together and pushing your breast closer to one another. Katsuki became feral as cum squirted onto your chest and stomach. Just the sight of you is making Katsuki forget today ever happened.

Just like always, baby eyes.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (188/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball,  which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made  on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before  66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

     [19 April, Age 850.  Toki Toki City.]  

The Time Vault was a palatial structure built in the center of the Time Nest.  An enormous tree was growing on top of the dome in the center of the Vault.   It was within the dome that the Scroll of Eternity was stored.   This document contained the record of all of history.   Despite being a singular scroll, there were simultaneously many hundreds of scrolls in the Time Vault.   These were contained in a network of cabinets that lined the entire wall of the dome.   The roots of the tree could be found clinging to the walls, as if they were drawing sustenance from the scrolls.    

The rest of the dome served as a large atrium where the Supreme Kai of Time conducted her business.   An octagonal table stood in the center of the atrium, and several platforms along the edge of the room surrounded this table.    It was at one of these platforms that Trunks was monitoring for any activity among the scrolls.  

Luffa entered the Time Vault and descended the wide staircase into the atrium, and passed the table to reach the platform just as Trunks turned to report to the Supreme Kai of Time.

"It's strange," Trunks said.   "I don't see any changes in the Scroll yet.  But then, maybe Demigra gave up."

Chronoa was about to reply to Trunks' optimistic suggestion, and another voice began to speak instead.    

"Heh heh heh... Don't be foolish."

The three of them turned and looked up to find Demigra floating among the roots at the top of the dome.   Dressed in blue finery, the ancient wizard looked down upon them and brandished his bone scepter as though ready to attack.    Below, Luffa and Trunks braced themselves for a fight, but they all knew that this was only an image of Demigra, and not the real thing.  

"Still using your mirages, Demigra?" Luffa said defiantly.  "Then you're still trapped in the Crack of Time.   Or maybe you've already broken free, and you're too cowardly to come here in person."

"Cheeky as ever, I see," Demigra scoffed.   "I'm assuming you've heard about me from the Supreme Kai of Time, no doubt.   I have waited seventy-five million years for this.    Are you insane?  I'll never give up."

"Bold words, Demigra," Trunks said.    "But that's all you've got!   We stopped you from manipulating Majin Buu, and there's no one else strong enough to threaten us."

"Hmph... Do you really think so?" Demigra chuckled.   Then he began to laugh maniacally, and then he vanished completely.  

Luffa waited a moment to be certain the mirage of Demigra was truly gone, then approached Trunks to ask a question.   "You weren't bluffing, were you?   Is there really no one stronger for him to use for altering history?"

"As far as I know," Trunks said.  "I haven't studied the much history beyond the Majin Buu crisis, but you fought Buu yourself.   It's hard to imagine anything tougher than that, and you handled it brilliantly."

"I'm not so sure about that," Luffa said.  

"I never expected you to be the modest type, Luffa," Trunks said.    "But I mean it, you really did great in that fight--"

"No, that's not what I meant," Luffa said.  "I'm saying that I'm not sure Buu is--"

Before she could finish, the Supreme Kai of Time made a terrified shriek, and they both looked over to find her pointing at the display on the platform.    

"What's wrong?" Luffa asked.  

"Did Demigra come back?" Trunks asked.  

"This... this is horrible!" Chronoa wailed.  "Demigra's gone to that time period?!"

"What time period?" Trunks asked.   "Was it a dangerous era or something?"

"Dangerous?!  Dangerous?!"  She looked back at Luffa in disbelief.    "He wants to know if it was dangerous!"

Luffa looked back at the Kai, then to Trunks, and shrugged her shoulders.   "Well, is it?" she asked.

Chronoa sighed and forced herself to calm down.    "Ignorance sure is bliss, isn't it...? All right, then.   How about I explain it to you?"

There was a dramatic pause as the Supreme Kai of Time collected herself.   Luffa relaxed slightly, as she expected an elaborate discussion of temporal phenomena.  Instead, Chronoa took a deep breath, then shouted at them right away.

"It's the time period, when Beerus, the fuh-reaking God of Destruction went to Earth!"

"Beerus?" Luffa asked.

"The God of Destruction?" Trunks simply held his hand up to his chin thoughtfully.   "Is Beerus that powerful?"

Chronoa glared at both of them.   "Lord Beerus," she shouted.  

"Sorry," Trunks said.  "But is Lord Beerus really strong or something?"

Chronoa didn't bother to answer.   Instead, she grabbed Trunks by the arm and began to physically drag him to the octagonal table.   As she passed Luffa, she grabbed her with her other arm and pulled them both.    

"Hey!" Luffa said.

"Just go and stop him!" Chronoa pleaded.  "Quickly!  You have to hurry!  If Lord Beerus turns against us... He'll... he'll destroy everything   All of history!"

There was no arguing with Chronoa, and the only way to console her fears was to pick up the affected Scroll and travel back to the altered history.   And so Luffa did, as quickly as possible.

*******

     [18 August, Age 778.  Earth.]  

Luffa arrived in West City, in front of the Capsule Corporation estate.  She had expected a major battle.   Instead, she found a party.  

"Oh my.   Are you one of Vegeta's friends?"

A blonde Earthwoman wearing denim jeans and a tube top approached Luffa from the main entrance.   She was carrying a watering can in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.  

Luffa looked at her for a moment and then nodded.  "Uh, yeah!" Luffa said.   "What gave it away?"

"Well, when my grandson Trunks was born, he had a fuzzy tail just like yours," the woman explained.   "At first, I thought that was unusual, but Bulma told me that Vegeta used to have one before it got cut off years ago.   So you must be one of his relatives from outer space?"

"Something like that," Luffa said.   "Is Vegeta around?  I have some... business with him."

"Oh, he was holed up in the Gravity Room," she said, "but I saw him join the party a little while ago.   It's so nice of him to finally socialize a little.  You should join us!  It's my daughter Bulma's birthday, you know!   She's forty-five years old.   Oh... wait.   No, that's right, she told me not to say that in front of the guests.  She's such a sensitive girl sometimes.    Anyway, she's 'thirty-eight' years old today."

Luffa regarded Bulma's mother more closely this time.   She had no frame of reference for Earthling aging patterns, but she would have guessed Bulma and her mother were about the same age.  

"Well, I don't want to intrude on a private ceremony," Luffa said.

"Don't worry about a thing!" Bulma's mother said.  "I only stepped out for a moment to water the garden.   You know, there's a lot of handsome young men there, and I'm sure they won't mind having a sophisticated lady like you to talk to."

"Uh... right," Luffa said.  

As Bulma's mother led her through the building to the rear exit, Luffa was already scanning for unusual ki signatures in the vicinity.   She located Vegeta immediately, along with several others she had met in past Time Patrol missions: Son Gohan, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, Majin Buu, Son Goten, and the other version of Trunks.    There was no sign of Demigra, or anyone under the influence of his demonic magic.   Nor could Luffa sense anyone powerful enough to fit the reputation of Beerus.

As they reached the party itself, Luffa excused herself and headed for the buffet table.   Bulma's mother was easily distracted, and made no attempt to introduce Luffa to the others, which suited Luffa's purposes.  While Luffa had met several of the guests before, none of them knew her at all, due to those encounters being excised from history.   She was a stranger here, though not so strange that she seemed to draw much attention.  

It suddenly occurred to  Luffa that there was one person in West City who would recognize her.  She had recently determined that her old friend Keda had somehow become stranded in Son Goku's era, and that she had taken up residence in West City.   Luffa couldn't sense Keda's presence at the moment, but it was a safe bet that Keda would sense Luffa, if the mission called for Luffa to use her full strength.   But there would be nothing accomplished by contacting Keda here and now.  If all went well, this entire segment of time would be altered and corrected, and anyone native to this era would remember none of Luffa's actions here.  

No, if Luffa wanted to visit Keda, she would have to do it decades further in the future, when Keda was an old woman.   It was a decision Luffa was still wrestling with.   She forced herself to set the matter aside and focus on the mission at hand.  

"All right," Luffa said as she began filling her plate with appetizers.   "I'm here.   Most of the strongest warriors on the planet are here.   But nobody's fighting.  Where's the problem, Trunks?"  

There was no answer.  

"Trunks?" Luffa repeated.   "Can you hear me?   Trunks?"

"Are you talking to me, lady?"

She looked around to find a young boy of about twelve or thirteen.   He had a bowl haircut of fine lavender hair, and he was dressed in blue overalls and a black T-shirt.    It was Trunks, but not the one she had left in the Time Nest.   That Trunks--the Time Patroller-- had lost his father to Dr. Gero's androids, and he had altered history to ensure that this version--the little boy in overalls-- could grow up in a world free of Gero's vendetta.  

At times, Luffa was surprised by how well she was able to keep these things straight in her head.  

"Oh, sorry," Luffa said.  "I was just thinking out loud."

"Are you a Saiyan?" the young Trunks asked.  

"That's right," Luffa said.  

"Do you know my dad?" Trunks asked.  

"Uh, not very well, but yeah, I know him," Luffa said.  

"Oh, then you must be with those other two guys who showed up a while ago," Trunks said.  

"Other two guys?" Luffa asked.  

"Yeah, over there," Trunks said.  He raised his arm and pointed to a cluster of tables nearby.   At one of them were a pair of aliens sampling the local cuisine.   One was a felinoid, but unlike any Luffa had encountered before.  His purple skin was completely devoid of hair.  The other alien was a humanoid with pale blue skin and white hair, not unlike the demon witch Towa, whom Luffa had recently defeated.  But this man didn't have pointed ears, so it was unlikely that he was one of Towa's species.  

Luffa could sense no ki from either of them.   It was as if they weren't even alive.  

"Oh, those two.  They're friends of your old man?" Luffa asked.   "Then I should go and pay my respects."  

As she moved away from the buffet table, she felt a tug on the left leg of her yellow pants.

"Wait, hold on a second," Trunks said.   "You're a girl, right?"

Luffa looked at him skeptically.   "Last time I checked," she said.   "What about it?"

"It's just... do you have any advice?"

"About what?" Luffa asked.  

"About girls."

"Kid, I'm kind of busy," Luffa said.  

"Well, I've got this girlfriend, sort of," Trunks said, "and I don't really know what to do with her."

He gestured in another direction, not as subtly as he probably thought he was being, and Luffa saw three Earthling children lurking near some bushes.   The tallest of these was a girl with long black hair wearing what looked like military surplus gear.  

"How old are you?" Luffa asked.  

"Thirteen," Trunks said.  

"Don't you think you're a little young to be dating?" Luffa asked.  

"We're not dating," Trunks said.  "She's just my girlfriend, that's all."

"Can she cook?" Luffa asked.

"I dunno," Trunks said.

"Can you cook?" Luffa asked.

"Does the microwave count?"

"No."

"Oh.   Well, no," Trunks said.  

"Well, one of you needs to learn," Luffa said.   "There's more to it than that, but that's enough to start you off.   That ought to keep you busy for a while."

She walked off, leaving young Trunks' romantic life hanging in the balance.  

"Thirteen," Luffa muttered to herself.   "Can you believe--?   Oh, wait."

She had forgotten that she wasn't getting any response from the Time Nest.   Luffa balanced her buffet plate in one hand while she reached for the communicator in her left ear, only to find that it wasn't there.  

"Aw, crap!" she grumbled.   Chronoa had been in such a hurry to send her on the mission that Luffa had never bothered to put the earpiece in.  

"Just as well," she mumbled.  "It keeps getting lost or destroyed anyway.   And it's not like I have anything to report.  What was she so worried about in the first place?"

By this time, most of the guests had gathered around a stage for a gambling tournament.  The two aliens whom Trunks had pointed out were sitting alone, and no one else noticed when Luffa approached them.  

"Excuse me," she said.   "Would either of you be Lord Beerus?"

"I am he," said the felinoid.  He regarded Luffa for a moment and his left eye widened with interest.  

Luffa gripped her plate securely as she genuflected.   "Then I'm honored to make your acquaintance, my lord," she said reverently.   "My name is Luffa."

"Well met," Beerus said.  "I didn't know Saiyans were capable of that sort of tact."

She rose to her full height and smiled.  "Well, I've always been an unusual kind of Saiyan," she said.   "My parents were mercenaries by trade, and they taught me that good manners get you better clients."

Beerus gestured to the table.   "Why don't you join us?" he said.  "I thought I had already met all the Saiyans on this planet, but it seems there was one more."

Luffa bowed her head graciously and pulled up a chair.   "I'm an off-worlder, actually," she said.   "And I just arrived a few minutes ago.   Vegeta is a... distant relative of mine.   I came to pay my respects."

"There, you see, Whis?" Beerus said to the tall blue man.   "There's still hope for my premonition yet."

Whis dabbed a napkin gently over the corners of his mouth before answering.  "Faint hope at best, Lord Beerus," he sighed.

"Premonition?" Luffa asked.  

"Yes, I've already asked the others," Beerus said, "and they couldn't tell me anything about it, but perhaps you know something they don't."   He leaned over the table and pointed one of his clawed fingers at her as he asked: "What can you tell me about the Super Saiyan God?"

Luffa was about to answer him until she heard the word 'god'.   Instead, she simply repeated the name.   "Super Saiyan God?" she asked.  

"That's right," Beerus said.   "Judging by your puzzled expression, it seems you've never heard of it either."

"Are you talking about Yamoshi?" Luffa finally said.  

Beerus' eyes widened with excitement.   "Ah, now we're getting somewhere!  And you said this trip was a waste of time, Whis."  

"That's not quite how I put it," Whis said evenly, "but one name does not a premonition fulfill, my lord."

"Oh, we'll just see about that," Beerus said as he shot Whis a dirty look.   "So tell us, Luffa, where can we find this Yamoshi fellow?"

"He's been dead for thousands of years," Luffa said.   "I only brought him up because he's known as the God Saiyan in my people's folklore."

"Thousands of years?" Whis said.  "My, Lord Beerus, you really did oversleep this time."

"Keep out of this, Whis!" Beerus grumbled.  

"Can you tell me about this premonition you had?" Luffa asked.  "Maybe we can sort this out together."

"Very well, it's really quite simple," Beerus said.   "Thirty-nine years ago, a very talented Seer foretold that an arch-rival worthy of me would appear.   I took a nap to await his arrival, and while I slept, I dreamt of a battle with that fated warrior, and he was called a Super Saiyan God."

"Tell her about the pop star who was supposed to move to your planet, Lord Beerus," Whis suggested.   "That prophesy might be linked to the others as well."

"That will be all, Whis," Beerus muttered.    

"I believe you," Luffa said.   "At least the premonition part, anyway.   A friend of mine was a fortune teller.  She once helped me during  a war, predicting which planets the enemy would attack, and when.   It wasn't a perfect system, but she was accurate enough.   I'm not sure what I would have done without her..."

"Yes, fascinating," Beerus said.  "But it seems you find the substance of the prophecy to be far-fetched.   Am I right?" he asked expectantly.  

Luffa fought to suppress the urge to panic.  In the short time she had known Chronoa, Luffa had never known her to exaggerate, and the Kai spoke of Beerus with great dread.   Luffa only knew the name from various myths and legends.  It was said the God of Destruction could annihilate anything just by touching it.  The fact that he had no discernible power level only made his enigmatic glare that much more intimidating.  

But this was nothing new, she told herself.  She had not always been the Legendary Super Saiyan.   Growing up, it had not been unusual to encounter beings with greater power.  The key was to be as polite and as truthful with them as possible.  They would only attack you if you presented yourself as a threat or a nuisance.  Beerus was far beyond any alien client she had ever dealt with, but the same principle seemed to apply.

The only catch was that Beerus seemed to want a Saiyan to threaten him.  It seemed rude to even suggest such a thing, but he had been the one to bring it up.

"It's... it's an exciting prospect," Luffa said, choosing her words carefully.   "You're saying there's a Saiyan out there who could challenge your power?   Well, maybe Yamoshi could have pulled that off... I'd sure like to see a fight like that."

"You're certain he's dead?" Beerus asked.  

Luffa nodded.  "The story goes that he was a martyr.  The Saiyans of that age were unspeakably wicked, bereft of honor.   But Yamoshi was different.   He knew that corruption could only breed weakness in the Saiyan race."

"As you said before," Whis interjected.  "Well-mannered mercenaries get better clients."

"Exactly," Luffa said.   "Better clients mean better assignments, which lead to bigger and tougher battles.   Sure, you could cheat your customers, cut corners, take shortcuts.   You might make a profit that way, but you won't get stronger from it."  

"And yet," Beerus said, "you make it sound as though Yamoshi failed to defeat these wicked Saiyans."

"Yamoshi was strong," Luffa said, "but he knew he couldn't take on the entire Saiyan race all by himself.   Somehow, he and his five disciples developed a technique to increase his power, but it only worked when all six of them were joined together.  He became so powerful that he could wipe out whole armies of Saiyans, but the technique would wear off very quickly, so he had to be careful about picking his battles.  That was how he came to be known as the God Saiyan.   His attacks were quick and unstoppable and completely unpredictable, and then he'd just vanish.   It was like the wrath of an angry god... or so they said."

"Interesting.  Then another Saiyan could recreate the technique he developed," Beerus suggested.  

"Possibly," Luffa said.   "But it was lost when Yamoshi died.   Just as he was on the verge of wiping out the most evil of the Saiyans, he lost that extra power, and he was cut off from his followers, so he had no way to get it back.  But Yamoshi was a man of conviction, and he saw the battle through to the bitter end.   His disciples must have known the secret, but they were only five, and they needed six to make it work.   And so, the technique was useless to them, and it was forgotten within a few generations.   Yamoshi became a legend, like the Super Saiyan..."

"Yes, I've already seen what a mere Super Saiyan can do," Beerus said.   "Son Goku arranged a demonstration for me earlier.  Impressive by mortal standards, but hardly what I had in mind."

Luffa inhaled sharply.   "Kakarot fought you?" she asked.  

Beerus shrugged.   "If you want to call it that.  It wasn't much of a battle, though I respect the audacity of his challenge."

So did Luffa.  While she had been sitting here trying to imagine a Saiyan fighting a God of Desctruction, Son Goku had already tried it for himself.  

"Well, that settles that," Luffa said.   "I've heard of you, Lord Beerus, but the stories were mostly about you being invincible and all-powerful.   They used to say the same things about me, though, so I never was sure how I'd stack up against you in a fight.   I didn't even know you had a physical form until today."

"Not what you expected, eh?" Beerus asked.  

"I don't mind saying, I'm pretty nervous not being able to sense your power," Luffa said.  "They said no one could sense Yamoshi coming either.   Maybe he really was on your level..."

"If only he were still alive to prove it," Whis said.   "Unfortunately, Lord Beerus, your premonition is beginning to sound more like a ghost story.   Yamoshi must have haunted you while you slept."

"Maybe not," Luffa said.   "You're looking for a Super Saiyan God.   Yamoshi may have been a one-time thing, but Super Saiyans show up a lot more often.   And that's not a technique with a time limit.     You just..." She waved her hands around the sides of her head.   "And you can hold the transformation as long as you want, or until you get too tired to keep it up."

"Then you believe the Super Saiyan God can exist," Beerus said.  "It's just a matter of discovering the means to become one, is that right?"

"I'm not sure... But I do believe in legends," Luffa said.  "Not just the events they describe, but the implications they have for our own lives.  The story of Yamoshi carries a warning for all Saiyans: Conduct your lives with respect, or a mighty warrior may rise up and strike you down.   But it's also promise to all Saiyans: One day you might become that mighty warrior.  Your being here, Lord Beerus, well that sounds like an omen to me."

"There, you see, Whis?" Beerus said with a smile.  "She gets it."

"You may have found a kindred spirit, Lord Beerus," Whis replied, "but that doesn't get you any closer to the Super Saiyan God than when you started.  Correct me if I'm wrong, Luffa, but you've already admitted that you have no idea how Yamoshi's technique worked, or if it could be recreated at all."

"You're right, um... Lord Whis?   I'm sorry, I'm not clear on the hierarchy here," Luffa said.

"Just call him 'Whis'," Beerus said.   "He's difficult enough as it is without anyone calling him 'Lord'."

"Well, you're right, Whis," Luffa went on.  "I am just speculating.   But I've seen a lot of amazing things in my time.  Hell, I'm making small talk with the God of Destruction."  

She paused to glance back at the others.   Vegeta was struggling to relax in a deck chair.   Gohan was embroiled in the same game as the rest of the guests.   Goten and Trunks were playing catch with a ball.   There was no sign of Son Goku, but if he had truly lost a fight with Beerus, then she supposed he was probably recovering at home.

"Lately, I've been finding that my people have a lot more potential than I ever gave them credit for," she said.  "I think that dream you had must have given you the same insight.   Give us Saiyans a chance, Lord Beerus.   I think you won't be disappointed."

"Hmm... well those are very reassuring words," Beerus said, "but in the end that's all they are.  The fact remains that there's no sign of a Super Saiyan God on this planet, at least not today.     This party has been a pleasant diversion, but that seems to be all the Earth has to offer me.  Though I will say that their cuisine has been truly delightful.   Perhaps a return visit would be in order..."

"Speaking of cuisine, Lord Beerus," Whis said, "have you tried the pudding yet?"

Beerus' large ears twitched with interest.  "Pudding, you say?"

"It's a dessert made up of a viscous fluid," Whis explained.  "I believe the flavor was 'French vanilla.'   Very remarkable."

"You had me at 'dessert'," Beerus said.  He began to lick his lips excitedly.  "Where might I find this 'pudding'?"

Whis stood up and gestured in the general direction of the food carts that had set up for the party.   "I believe they were over this way," he said.   "Oh yes, I see them now.   It looks like that pink fellow has them all."

Luffa followed them, mostly because she didn't want to appear rude by leaving without Beerus' approval.  And Chronoa had been extremely concerned about this mission, specifically because of Beerus, and so it seemed sensible to keep an eye on him until another lead presented itself.  

"Doesn't really add up, though," she said to herself.   From what she had seen, Beerus was actually quite even-tempered.  He was even something of a gourmet.  She wondered if Chronoa just didn't get along with Beerus because he didn't like her questionable cooking.   That was no reason to involve the Time Patrol, though.

Luffa was so lost in thought that she almost didn't notice the argument breaking out over the pudding.  

"No!  All pudding for Buu!"

She had forgotten that Majin Buu was one of the guests at this party.  While the Majin was no longer destroying whole cities, he still seemed to harbor some anti-social tendencies.  He now sat alone at a table, with a tray holding every single serving of pudding, enough for at least a dozen guests.   Apparently he planned to eat them all himself.   Luffa found this idea revolting.   At the very least, he should have gotten some meat to dip in the pudding.   Eating that much of it by itself was just tacky.

And to his credit, Beerus didn't care what Buu did with the rest of the tray, so long as he got a single serving for himself.  But Buu was in no mood to share, and he seemed to have no idea whom he was dealing with.   There were tales of Beerus the Destroyer wiping out entire solar systems over minor grievances. Majin Buu, apparently, had never heard these stories.

And so, when Luffa reached out and snatched the glass from the tray, she considered it an act of mercy more than anything else.  

"Here you go, sir," Luffa said as she handed the glass to Beerus.   This irritated Majin Buu, but she made sure to position herself between them so he would have to go through her to do anything about it.   "Please, forgive my... friend's... attitude.  I think he may have had too much to drink."

Beerus was so fixated on the dessert that he seemed to have already forgotten Buu's transgression. But Luffa had not.  

"That pudding belonged to Buu!" Majin Buu whined.  

"If you have a problem," Luffa said, "you can take it up with me.   Honestly, I was sort of hoping for another crack at you, Buu.  I guess Demigra couldn't resist possessing you one more time..."

But there was no sign of demonic influence.  Buu was visibly upset, but his eyes lacked any of the red color found in Demigra's other victims, and there was no purple fog rising up from his body.  If Demigra had done anything to Majin Buu this time, it was too subtle to tell.

"Mean lady take Buu's food!" Buu squealed.   "Buu turn you into candy instead!"

"Wait," Luffa said.   "If you're not under his spell, then who--?"

She turned to check on Beerus, who had spooned a glob of pudding out of the glass, and now held it up to his mouth.   Then she noticed the ball, the same one Goten and Trunks had been playing with.  Without warning, it suddenly took on a life of its own, veering wildly off its trajectory and striking Beerus' hand with such force that he dropped the glass and the spoon.  

Now Vegeta had taken notice of the situation.   Judging by the look on his face, Luffa realized that he was the only other person at this party who understood who and what Beerus was.   While he stammered a hasty apology, Luffa looked at the errant ball, which had finally come to rest on a nearby hedge.  

It was glowing with an energy that looked like purple smoke.   It was the same power that she had expected to find in Majin Buu.  

Demigra had outmaneuvered her.

"Now," Beerus said angrily.   "Now, I'm mad!"

With that outburst, the God of Destruction's body erupted with energy, bathing the entire property in a violet glow.   Beerus would destroy them all.  And there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

 NEXT: Divine Intervention

[egittae]

A fond smile bloomed in his features, undisturbed as he continued to try to dry Dimitri’s face and fix some of his hair. This reaction at least was expected- something in his mind found happiness in knowing exactly how the young prince would respond, even though they have been apart for almost five years. Typical. “I know you are no babe, if anything it brings me unmeasurable joy to see that you are growing into a proper young man. However, be it young or old, king or prince, you will always be my boy. There is no shame in that.”

Before he could say anything more however, indeed it seemed that the pups had gotten impatient with being deprived of attention. While some tugged on Dimitri’s uniform, the rest of the litter was quick to jump on Lambert as if trying to make him fall over a second time, assaulting the professor by licking his face. 

“At the very least, they seem to be good enough at conducting ambushes! That was quite the coordinated attack if I do say so myself.” He peeled off pup by pup while laughing, managing to sit up despite some insistent wolves still trying to climb on his shoulders. “As for catching up, worry not. We both have a lot of time in our hands for that now, there is little need to rush.” Armored hands held on to a particularly feisty young wolf, scratching his tummy and urging it to fight his fingers. 

It took him a while to think and pick his words, quietly mulling over the question as his gaze remained locked on the playful pup on his lap trying to bite his fingers. After a short inhale, his lips finally moved. “I must focus on restoring my sense of self. Not only my memories, but coming to fully understand the man I was. The man you saw at the Ethereal Ball was…” Blond brows twitched into a small frown. “Spineless, cowardly, lost and confused. And while I have improved since then I am still far from the Lambert you and Matthias knew. At the moment I have no title or anything under my name, as even my job is not a legitimate contract with the Academy, which allows me some freedom to conduct my own research into both the person I was and the environment I was born and raised in.”

Raising his head, Lambert smiled at the boy confidently. “I must simply keep going, moving forward even when I am not sure of my path. I shall just make it happen with my own hands.” He then finally allowed the puppy to wander off from his lap, resting his hands on his knees.

“And of course, as stated before…I also wish to find out what happened that day. The truth. So for the moment, I may take advantage of my status as a nobody, and get as much undetected progress as I can on both fronts.” A blink, then a nod. “And my teaching duties. That is my actual current job, so.”

“While I may roam the monastery occasionally, if you ever wish to seek me for any reason, I am at the Abyss. Whatever it is you need, I will come for your aid. Be it a request for a spar, or a hug.”

A hand patted the prince’s shoulder, before giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze. “I am here now. With you.”

@blaiddllodi

wolf lord

closed starter for @blaiddllodi (+1 riding)