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silverinkbottle · 4 months ago

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The Affair between Hawk and Dove-Chapter 6: Adjustments

Summary: It's time to wake up, but sometimes that takes effort.

Pairing: OC x Mihawk

Fandom: A mixture of content from both the Live Action and Manga. Spoilers will be WARNED once chapters go beyond the current timeline of OPLA.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+). Please be aware that there be sexual content, references to non-con, prostitution, graphic violence etc.

Chapter length: 6K

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AO3 Link:

A/N: The latest chapter in the ABHWD series..and the next chapter may be happening sooner than you think dear reader. I had so much fun creating a bit of non canon backstory for our lovely Warlord..and plenty more is to come.

A vast, unending void sprawled out before Iris as she tried to steady her breathing. Shame and anger intertwine like creeping vines on a wall at the childlike fear. Unable to move like she was back in her childhood home on a stormy night as the wind howled with the guttural calls of unseen creatures in the dark wanting to drag her away. That irrational fear evolved into something more practical, the fear of the unknown. What if she stepped forward into the inky void and something happened? What things lurked in the unnatural dark?

"Move. Come on. Move." Iris snarled under her breath as she stared down at her bare feet.

The ink-like substance of the 'floor' washed over them like sea foam with a single twitch of her left foot. Ink-like droplets dripped from her heel as she took her first hesitant step forward, as the dark substance stained her pale skin with each measured step. The echo of her footfalls whispered around her with growing volume. The cautious steps turned into a sprint as another sound roared about her, the inexplicable crash of waves. It all happened so quickly as the ink-like liquid lashed against her form, knocking her to her knees as the bitter taste flooded her mouth. Half gasping and half gagging, Iris bowed forward with a retch, tears streaming down her face from the force.

Raising her stained hands to her dark lips, another violent spasm shook her form as a wave of nausea forced her to expel more of the dark fluid. A mere drop in the bucket as the strange liquid gradually rose as Iris tried to raise her head to look forward. Still the same endless void. Was there a point in this little venture if only darkness awaited her?

No.

No. No. No.

The words whispered in her head like a siren's sweet call as she couldn't find the will to stand up again. The once tacky sensation of the 'ocean' turned into a familiar feeling, almost like a blanket to lull into sleep. It's what she wanted, right? Peace and quiet? Then why did it burn her throat so as she took one final breath?

A ragged gasp burst from her lips, followed by the harsh burn of stomach acid, as Iris retched over the side of the bed with what little she did have in her stomach. Salt, salt, and bile as she pressed her face against the soft sheets. Nausea turned in her guts as if she couldn't remove her sense of smell from the faint scent of sweat, sickness, and the ocean. Followed by the raging headache that came to the forefront when her blurred vision tried to focus.

"Where the fuck am I." Iris croaked as she wearily glanced about the bed.

The thick curtains blocked all but the small crack of candlelight, allowing enough light to see and avoid getting sick in the bed.

"My ship."

A flood of embarrassment sent a harsh shade of red to her cheeks as she couldn't help but jump at the unexpected voice. Followed by the realization of her pathetic state, stripped down to a sweat-stained nightgown and the almost itchy sensation of salt water covering her skin. The bed curtains were gently opened as she blinked owlishly up at her 'guest.' Said host was quick to shove a bitter-smelling cup into her hands as she couldn't help but flinch from the unexpected move.

A sigh followed by a far gentler touch brushed her forehead as Mihawk's dry expression didn't seem to shift. The strange hue of his eyes looked all the more amber in the darkened room as Iris tried to find her voice, but it was like the low rasp of some cat. Hastily using one hand to rub her throat, she wordlessly stared up at Mihawk, who gave another long-standing sigh.

"How much do you remember?"

Iris's hand tethered side to side with a shrug of her shoulders. It was like a heavy fog still clung to her mind as she winced when the throb of the headache reminded her of its presence. The disastrous meeting, the deck, her heart seized for a moment, the bodies. Gods, how many people had died because of her temper. Mihawk quickly intervened as the visible alarm appeared on Iris's face. He hastily took the cup from her shaking hands to set it aside as he continued evenly.

"Easy, most of the crew made it out with minimal injuries. A bit waterlogged, but Iris-"

His low, comforting words sent a burst of emotion through Iris as relief swept through her. She leaned forward on her knees as she wordlessly pressed her face to Mihawk's form, the faintest shudder shaking her shoulders. The taste of salt on her tongue was almost sweeter from the tears that dripped down her cheeks. She could feel the nearly phantom-like brush through her hair as if Mihawk had stopped to remember to not touch the coarse strands.

"You were the worst; Cooke did what she could with the limited medicinal supplies I have here. At least she thinks you didn't suffer a concussion from the falling debris. Just a few stitches in the back of your head. As for everything el- Iris."

His continued explanation was low and steady, and it edged into a growl of disapproval as once more Iris was on the move. She scrambled from the bed, half catching her hands on Mihawk's right arm before letting out a slight hiss of shock. She caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror in the corner.

A dark bruise took up much of her right cheek as she wordlessly brushed over the splotch of purple. Shaking fingers struggled with the tie of the nightgown as the pale fabric fell to the floor with little ceremony. Fuck, she looked like a beaten stray as with each twist of her nude reflection, she found the impression of a boot. Her knees reddened from being dragged up onto the deck as a faint noise of disgust slipped from her lips at the clear, uneven shearing of a patch of hair on the back of her head.

"You were bleeding; she couldn't exactly take her time, Dove," Mihawk said dryly as his right hand curled over her right hip bone.

Was it to steady her or to allow himself a bit of selfishness since he had evidently treated her like a fragile paper doll. His expression was guarded, but his eyes told all that Iris needed to hear, including the slow inspection of her body. Lingering over every yellowed bruise and boot imprint, he pulled his gaze from her form to press his lips to the side of her head. The brief tightening of his hand on her hip sent a jolt through Iris as she felt a pang of guilt that she had caused him this much worry.

"Now, back to bed. Drink, it's a tonic that should help with the headache..according to Cooke.." Mihawk ordered as he lightly tugged her away from the mirror. Ushering her back to the plush bed again, she found her nose assaulted by the bitter concoction that tasted as bad as it smelled with the first sip.

"She said that once you woke up, it would be fine for you to shower. But to avoid getting the stitches, we-damn it, Iris."

The allure of a hot shower was Iris needed to take a deeper drink of the tonic. A mistake as the bitter taste threatened to overwhelm her empty stomach. Her free hand hastily covered her lips with a spasm of her form, a silent dry heave that mercifully didn't return the swallowed liquid. Her watery eyes stared up hopefully at Mihawk, whose expression was less than amused but kept his sharp tongue to himself.

"Must you behave like a child when suffering from any affiliation?"

"Shower." Iris croaked out; Mihawk rolled his eyes but offered his hand nonetheless. Iris was quick to take it with a bat of her eyelashes.

Slowly pulling herself up, Iris glanced about the room. While the vast bed occupied most space, a few other things caught her attention. Scattered books here and there, and a large wardrobe that had scraped the ceiling with its height. Two portholes allowed her to see that it was still at least daytime, judging by the pale hue of the ocean passing outside the vessel. Yet, most notable was the chest that sat haphazardly packed, its lid ajar from the press of the overflowing contents.

"Joan managed to salvage some of your things; I never took you much for sentiment, Dove. She was quite adamant that I didn't jostle it.." Mihawk muttered as Iris leaned down to open the hopefully dry box.

Dresses, around two, a collection of jewelry, a tangled strand of ribbons, underthings. Her hands became almost frantic as she shifted aside fabrics and riches, heaving a heavy sigh of relief when she caught sight of the bottom of the trunk. A small, dented, almost rusted lockbox equivalent in size to a frying pan sat waiting for her. Fingertips brushed over the stained surface before flicking the broken lock open with the edge of her nail.

"I'll have to thank her next time our paths cross again. I couldn't replace these.." Iris muttered warmly as she traced the crudely crafted tobacco pipe's handle. Next to it sat a copper brooch, no larger than her thumb, the chipped painting of a fish's scale on it.

Finally, the third object was carefully tied in cloth as Iris quickly checked the knots that concealed the cylinder-like item. That was the last thing she needed to break in here.

"Reminders of your parents, I understand, but what is-"

"Something I hope I never have to use." Iris smoothly cut over his curiosity, punctuated by the loud creak of the lockbox closed shut.

She quickly pulled a ribbon from the tangled mess before sloppily piling her hair in a messy bun. At least she could shower adequately without it getting in the way. Iris couldn't help but feel a flicker of annoyance with each strand, roughly coated with the remainder of her impromptu swim. It was like gritty sand but somehow worse.

"Well, it's not like secrets between us have caused trouble before.." There was an edge of sulkiness in Mihawk's voice, followed by a hint of amusement when Iris’ eyes went wide, an apology ready. Said apology was quickly changed to a silent scowl at the unexpected teasing.

"It must be private if you consider it important enough to put it there. I won't ask, Dove." Mihawk soothed as he moved an errant strand from Iris's pink-tinted cheeks. Her flushed skin was from embarrassment and irritation as she wordlessly waved away the intruding fingers. Indigent grumbles as the gentle touch turned into a soft tug, giving her heart another flutter as he gave her that rare sliver of a smile.

"Shower."

"I wasn't aware I bought a parrot aboard instead of a woman."

"Mihawk, I am covered in salt, dried blood, and gods know what else. I have a thundering headache; now isn't the time for-"

Her plausible fit turned from the darkening clouds of a storm to a mere breeze as Mihawk lightly pulled at her left hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist. Amber eyes that could drown Iris came all too close as his other hand tilted her face up.

"Now, most of you are covered in all those things. Are you feeling better, or do you want me-"

The low purr was immediate bait that, on any other day, Iris would have willingly fallen for without a second's hesitation. However, she steeled herself with a rough pat on her lover's cheek before inching her way past him through the open doorway. Doing her best to ignore the alluring 'hm' feeling skin prickle from the way eyes raked over her naked form. At least she knew that even battered and bruised, rude or pissed off, something drew the Warlord to her.

"It's the door to the left. Linens stashed under the sink.." Mihawk directed

As confident as Iris had marched into the room, she had found herself standing dumbfounded in the center of the secondary room. Much more extensive than the bedroom, circular instead of square, as she took in the mismatch of 'rooms' crammed into the space. A small larder tucked into the back near the ladder that doubtlessly led upward. The once-appealing scent of spices made her mouth water with aversion as she roughly swallowed. Familiar, almost comforting scents of ink and parchment as a half-finished chart of some kind sat open on the large table behind a dark velvet settee. A few pillows littered the floor before the furniture; something told her that the insomniac was fond of catching a few moments of sleep on it when he could.

On the right side of the room were two tall bookshelves stuffed with literature, maps, and other things. Almost too full by her standards, Iris could feel her fingers twitch at the sight of the mess. Despite her poor show of organization during his unexpected visit, Iris was quite apt at effectively curating her workflow. Yet, it was the strange circular object that sat next to the mess of parchment that piqued her curiosity in earnest. It was like a globe made of glass but had the stanch strength of something metallic. A haze of blue over its surface aside from the singular hourglass-shaped object that sat in the center of the top.

"All that complaining, and you seemed all too willing to stand here, gawking. Not that I'm unhappy about the view." Mihawk mused from the doorway as he lazily glanced up at her form.

Her cheeks had once again turned a shade almost as red as her hair. She hadn't meant to be so distracted, but it was difficult to stifle her curiosity. Somehow, the infamous Warlord's ship was as big a mystery as he was.

"I'll explain later, Dove."

"Really?"

"To save me the headache of your curiosity somehow breaking it later. It's beyond fickle, even with all my complaints. All I receive back is that the invaluable genius of Vegapunk's invention wasn't to be questioned by lesser minds."

"Really, some poor clerk you doubtlessly pursued for answers responded with that.."

"In far politer terms. Now, go." Mihawk dismissed her with a flick of his hand. Iris rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

The interior of this room was smaller, but still, she couldn't help but jump at the loud echo of the door shutting behind her. The whirl of machinery was all the more prominent here as she would put more than a few beli on the idea that the ship's core lurked beyond tile walls.

It also made water heating quite simple as she couldn't help but feel her tired muscles sag in relief as the gentle spray of water from the nozzle overhead dripped down her. Another luxury was the design of the nozzle itself, allowing it to fall in a waterfall pattern in a pleasant flow. An unexpected giggle slipped from Iris's lips as she dipped her neck to let water drip down her salt-covered chest. It all made sense with Mihawk's indulgence with water; the man had more avian qualities than he would admit. He was one of the few people she had met who would willfully spend the money on a human-sized birdbath.

Another burst of giggles trickled from her lips as her laughter pitched from the echoing quality of the shower. The heavy steam dampened the overall volume as she lazily soaped, rubbed, and washed the tacky sensation of filth from her skin. Iris felt refreshed, indulging for fifteen minutes before reluctantly turning off the hypnotic flow. Half blinded by clouds of steam, she plucked a toward from the linen closet outside the shower, wrapping it around herself with haste as the warmth of the shower was replaced by the colder air. Chewing on her lower lip, Iris caught sight of the disaster atop her head, untouched by the blissful water. She would have to figure out something with it.

Half poking her head outside the door, she tried to be as quiet as possible in closing in behind her. The faint click pulled Mihawk's attention from the map and scribble of his quill; the pause was evident as another voice boomed out from the small Den Den Mushi in his ear. Loud enough that Iris could hear it.

"You're certain those coordin-"

"Yes. Now, about that favor I'm owe-"

The voice was familiar to Iris, followed by the controlled exasperation in Mihawk's tone as he wordlessly urged her to leave the room with a flick of his eyes. Right, world government business wasn't for the ears of pirates. But she couldn't help but feel her ears perk up at the mention of the word favor. What sort of favor would be so important to involve the Vice Admiral in. However, that question would have to wait as Iris rummaged through her trunk, with her hope dimming every passing second. It was lit anew with a glint of silver as she pulled the prized brush from the depths of the trunk.

A fleeting victory as she did her best to be gentle with a mess of hair with each pull of the brush. Now she could feel the faint tug of stitches as she set the brush down to lightly prod through her locks. There, her expression flickered from relaxed to concerned as she could feel the thick string pulling the skin together like a trussed turkey. At least she had been unconscious during that particular process, or at least she couldn't remember it. Her memory was still a mess of disjointed pieces or sensations. Had she been struck that hard? Drumming her nails against the gilded frame of the mirror, she tried to focus on the jagged flashes of memory. A flash of bright green, a crack of wood, a burst of pain and shouts. Ice, salt, and something slapping at her face, a hint of peppermint. That must have been Cooke; the older woman wasn't known for her bedside manner.

"Feeling better?" The warm notes, followed by the brush of Mihawk's solid form against her back, dragged her back to the present.

"Much, smelling better, too, I imagine. I am burning that nightgown, Mihawk.." Iris joked as goosebumps rippled down her back when his nose brushed against her throat.

His low hum vibrated against her bare shoulder in disapproval at her scent. Did she forget a spot? Her concern was shoved aside by the hot kiss against the sensitive skin and a single swipe of his tongue that sent heat to her core? It was too simple for Iris to pull his face up a mere inch to kiss him properly. The rough brush of his beard was something she was surprised that she had missed. Rough, calloused fingertips stroked over the edge of her rib cage, provoking further goosebumps as her hazed mind caught onto his intentions. Iris quickly caught the seeking hand by the wrist as he grazed the damp curls of her mound.

"Feed me before fucking me. Besides, don't forget that explanation you owe me. I may have forgotten some things, but not that conversation from fifteen minutes ago.." Iris mused as Mihawk pulled away with a roll of his eyes.

"It was over twenty. Besides, were it not for that charming call, I would have rushed in to rescue you from drowning yourself by mistake after passing out in the shower," Mihawk retorted as Iris arched a brow at him. Somehow, she could see that rescuing turning into something else entirely, despite his good intentions and the obvious potential consequences of a probable concussion worsening by elevating her heart rate.

"What was that all about anyway?"

Iris kept her tone light and conversational as she dressed in something other than her bare skin. There was a rustle of fabric as she retrieved a set of black trousers from the trunk, complimented by a stolen shirt from Mihawk's wardrobe. Her fingers possibly took too long to indulge in the fine quality of fabrics and colors as her digits whispered over them. She smiled sheepishly at Mihawk's scoff from her inquisitive inspection.

"Surprised I have other attire in colors other than whites and browns.."

"Only slightly."

"We'll try to bolster your own attire after our little stop.."

"Which is..-" Iris's words trailed off as she wrestled to put on her right boot. It was a bit snug against her right calf, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She knew the hazards of wet feet on the sea. It had all but been drilled into her by her father since she had learned to toddle aboard the deck.

"That favor."

"That isn't a-Mihawk.." Her retort fell flat as Mihawk had swept out of the room with annoying grace. Even in the enclosed space, she struggled to hear the footfalls of his boots. Did he have to maintain that mythical mystery of a Warlord at all times, or was it sheer habit after all this time? Pulling on her left boot, Iris was sure to break in its snug fit with each loud thump against the floorboard. The theatrical effect was dulled by the plush rug of the seating area as she kicked her boots up on the tea table with impatience. Her stomach contributed to the urgency with a low growl as she didn't expect her appetite to return so quickly.

"Open."

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and opened her lips. The sour, sweet scent of citrus peel hit her nose, followed by the delicate sweetness of fruit on the tongue. The soft flesh burst with juice as she thoughtfully chewed with a low sigh when she swallowed. Perching another slice of the tangerine between Iris's lips, Mihawk placed the half-peeled fruit into her hands.

"Where did you get fruit, much less fresh fruit." Iris quipped as she greedily ripped into the thick skin of the delicate treat. Hunger overrode the irritating sting of acidic juices sinking into the minor cuts on her hands.

"The Conomi Islands. It was the least the island’s tangerine farmers could do for the Warlord that graced their villages to thoroughly investigate the once territory of Arlong Pirates.."

An air of annoyance threaded through Mihawk's words. He loathed the attention of the general public, mobbing him with mindless praise, petitions, and the like. Iris had heard plenty of it as he would have preferred 'dueling' a hundred sellswords in a row than hear one more utterance from helpless townsfolk.

"Things must have been tense with the Marines if they came clambering to you instead of them.." Iris muttered as she finished the last bit of fruit.

A hint of a smile graced her lips, as did the deep sigh from Mihawk at her comment. All but confirming her suspicions, she did her best to hide her amusement when she walked past him, evidently failing as Iris could feel his stare when she washed her hands in the small sink. An insistent tug on her waist impeded her path back as she found herself in the Warlord's lap.

"Eager for your reward?" Iris teased as she curled closer to him with a gleam in her eyes.

Forcing herself to ignore the faint whispers of pain from her bruises as Mihawk's hands slipped underneath the thin shirt. He stilled them as a wince flickered over Iris's face as another sigh slipped for his lips. The intruding touch went from her body to her face as he lightly tilted her face to the side. His observation was silent, but his eyes were another story. Mihawk hastily smothered the anger, disappointment, and something else with a blink under her appraising stare.

"I'm fine. A bit banged up, but I've been in worse shape-"

"That isn't the point, and you know it. It shouldn't have happened in the first place if you had to"

The start of disgruntled 'discussion' was hastily stifled by a searing kiss as Iris pulled him close. Nails dug into the collar of his shirt as she tried to express everything that her hesitant tongue was afraid to speak. I know I'm here now; I'm sorry; all those words seemed to pass with each gentle brush. Seemingly reaching the irate swordsman, the tension eased from him with a fond brush through her hair. The intimate gesture would have been welcome, but all it did was remind Iris of the less-than-ideal state of her prized locks as she ended the kiss with a huff.

"Is your hair bothering-"

"Yes, I have half the mind to..-Mihawk, where we are exactly right now." Her words trailed off, a mixture of worry and hope curdled together in her mind.

"Somewhere in the East Blue, why-"

"Wonderful, we aren't too late then," Iris hummed as she pulled away from his loose grip with a wink. Softly laughing at the rare expression of surprise, he wordlessly followed her up the ladder leading to the upper deck. It led out through a remarkably disguised trapdoor after Iris struggled to open the metallic hatch, ignoring the quiet remarks below about turning it a bit to the left first.

"If you have to do that, then I think it's time you oiled the damn thing instead of brute forcing it." Iris snidely commented as her irritation was blown away by the quiet caress of the sea breeze against her face.

A fond smile on her face as the gull cried out their greetings at their fellow seafarers. Little did the birds know that it was about to be their lucky day.

Bunching her dark locks, Iris hastily twisted them in a makeshift braid, tying off the top with the ribbon. It hadn't been cut this short since she was sixteen. How much different would it feel now? Going from mid-back to upper shoulders would still be a dramatic change, as she could all but hear Mihawk's silent question.

"I can't manage it well enough if we are going to 'pirating.' Don't you know I'm spoiled, Mihawk? My hair is a fickle mistress even with help..besides it needs to be even out instead of looking like a half-sheared sheep.." Iris explained as she drew the knife stashed on the side of her right boot.

The faintest tremble in her hand as she saw the first few strands give way to its sharp edge. A strange lump of emotion in her throat made her pause in her cut.

"Honestly, I didn't think you were that hapless with a blade. A shaking hand will never make an even cut. Don't you want it to look better, not worse?" Mihawk's voice was low and teasing as he quickly pulled the blade from her reluctant hand

"Close your eyes; it'll be over in a second, Dove." His words were a gentle command as Iris blinked back the sting of tears, swallowed that dreadful lump, and closed her eyes.

The faintest gasp slipped from her lips at the distinct sound of a blade drawing across something and the strange 'lighter' feeling from her scalp.

"Open."

Her eyes wearily looked down at the bunched remains of her hair. It was just hair; it would grow back; the mantra ran through her head in a rhythmic sing-song tone like a familiar song. Even as a child, she was so proud of her hair; its dark red hue was a singular reminder of her mother. Even then, she pitched fits when her mother had to cut something from entangled locks—mud, seaweed, something or other that her daughter had gotten into without thinking.

"Give me some of the locks and indulge me. It's silly, an old fisherman's superstition."

Mihawk passed over one of the bunches with a curious arch of his brow. Iris's fingers carefully passed through the tangled strands as the sun's rays turned the dark shade of red into a lighter tone. The long hair caught in the breeze as she waved them at the overhead gulls, the bright colors catching their attention as she allowed the strands to fall into the gentle waves.

The contrast of color was like a lure to searching birds, who quickly dove into the salty foam. Emerging mere seconds later, prizes clinging in their beaks, the seabirds took flight once more. A faint warmth spread through Iris's chest as the birds willingly accepted her offering.

"Sea birds head to land eventually to rest, find mates, build nests, and raise chicks. It was said in my village that if a sea bird accepted your offering, it would lead to good fortune for the remainder of the voyage. That the vessel will see land again." Iris explained quietly as the bird's feathered forms became smaller and smaller on the horizon.

"I didn't take you for someone who believed in such things.."

"Well, I'll count that surprising you for the first time in quite a while. What an honor.." Iris hummed as she reached for the second bundle of hair.

Only for Mihawk to pull it out of her reach as he wordlessly pulled her towards the trapdoor. Now, her curiosity led her back down below the deck. Sitting on the settee, Iris watched Mihawk move about the room purposefully. First, he stoked the low flickering flame of the grated fireplace, coaxing its meager spark to life with a few flicks of his wrist. It soon greedily fed on a sprinkle of dried plant matter that emitted an earthy scent, the mellow scent hastily overtaken by the sharp notes of warm spice.

The heady notes washed over the room, and Iris couldn't help but feel herself lulled into a sleepier state by the scent. Or was it from the gentle warmth of the fire? Even at this distance, she could feel the comforting heat. The sharp crackle of the flames being fed something else made her sit up straighter as she watched the flames consume the red strands like hounds tearing into a haunch of meat.

"You'll collect the ash in the morning, once it's cooled, and combine the rest of it in the box atop the mantle. It's said that if the ash can be touched by the bare skin of a new crew member, the ship has accepted another passenger in its hold and will protect them on the seas." Mihawk explained as he soon joined Iris's silent vigil in watching the flickering flames. The light brush of his fingers against her wrist urged her to unclench them as she looked down at the small indents from her nails in surprise.

"So, a sacrifice will bring us luck? How morbid." Iris muttered without a hint of hesitation as Mihawk chuckled at the blunt statement. His finger lightly tipped her chin from inspecting her hands to his inquisitive gaze. She tried to find the right words to apologize for her carelessness.

"Well, then, you could call it that. There were seafarers back on my home island who considered hair an insult; offering blood or flesh to the flames was better. To provide life to the vessel to accommodate another."

"Animal blood, right?" Iris asked weakly as she blanched when Mihawk's mouth slightly ticked upward.

She couldn't tell if his words were serious as she rolled her eyes at the non-answer. Far worse superstitions still loomed in the back of some seafarers' minds as she couldn't help but think of the rumors of what some vessels were said to do to female crewmates in moments of panic. The offering of an 'innocent' woman to sate the appetite of a raging storm or the bout of bad luck that seemed to cling to feminine forms like a second skin.

"Are you still hungry?" Mihawk prodded lightly as he lightly brushed a strand of hair from her face.

His low chuckle curled around Iris like a blanket as she wordlessly pressed her face to his collarbone, her hands pulling at the fabric of his shirt for a brief moment in a wordless request and answer simultaneously. Tired, lay down, not hungry; it was simple for him to accommodate as Iris lazily sprawled herself atop her living pillow, eyes growing heavier and heavier with each soothing thump of her lover's heart.

"Conomi Island, what's there that we need? " the words came out in a low whisper, half smothered by drowsiness in Iris's voice. She couldn't help but stiffen when his fingers lightly grazed the thick stitches.

"Well, for one, a hopefully qualified doctor can remove those, and if we're lucky, we can collect that favor from the stalwart Vice Admiral. As long as that little rat takes the bait.." Mihawk's voice edged into a hiss of distaste as Iris quickly bolted upright in surprise.

"What was that?" Iris asked flatly as her hands cradled her lover's face with barely concealed impatience.

"You heard me, Dove. How would you like a little reunion with a certain rat-faced bastard? It wouldn't be long if the Vice Admiral kept his word to turn a blind eye. Who's to say how poorly the dear captain is underneath the uniform and brave face. Rumors are all but circulating about his standing, crumbling with each passing day, that he and his crew are failing to capture the remaining Arlong Pirates that still plague the East Blue. Why wouldn't he be putting on airs after the misfortune of a sinking vessel, a humiliating encounter with a certain straw hat-wearing pirate? The last thing he would expect was your charming presence in the office of the Vice Admiral-"

Each word sent a flicker of emotions through Iris's mind as she could feel the burning flicker of her anger, shame, and another cacophony of emotions bombard the thinning strand of control. It made all the worse when Mihawk's hands slid up the sturdy fabric of the fabric-covered thighs. The maddening flicker of muscle in his smirk, her sharp nails squeezed a bit harder against his face, and she leaned closer to him, almost afraid that she would mishear his following answer.

"This isn't some elaborate joke, is it? Because I won't be-"

Her eyes blinked owlishly with surprise as his laughter made her grip loosen. It was rough but charming, with a strange hoarse quality, as if he was out of practice.

"I'm being serious." Iris hissed in a low voice as she tried to tamp down the distracting sensation of his hands squeezing at her inner thighs.

"Have you ever known me for jokes, Dove? We're talking about serious matters, aren't we?" Mihawk drawled as Iris's stare could set him ablaze if she had the cursed fruit to do it.

A muttered curse slipped from her lips as there was a harsh snap of buttons. Her hands pulled from his face to fight with the stubborn buttons of her blouse as she could feel the blood race from her face to her now heated skin, feeling all too warm in the thin fabric.

Her knees reflexively tightened against Mihawk's hips as all the aches and pains seemed to be far away in the back of her mind from the hot heat spreading in her core. Still, she didn't pull away from him as she once more commanded his attention with a tap of her nails.

"Fuck me."

It wasn't a request but a demand that came from her mouth without hesitation. The thought of revenge and bloodlust sent a hum of energy through her veins, while Mihawk's touch twisted that malevolent energy into a threatening beast of lust. If she couldn't sate the thirst for blood, she would be pleased to quench the secondary component.

One that her plotting Warlord was more than willing to appease as his hand curled around her neck to pull her down to his demanding kiss.

#opla fanfiction #silverinkwrites #one piece fanfiction #opla mihawk #mihawk x oc #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk

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obutsuwrites · 4 years ago

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devotion (douma x f!reader)

summary: His pet watched as the metal was heated. Douma held the poker like it was precious; watching in delight. Black steel turning dangerously red was quite the show. Certainly, his excitement was sweetened by… her. Even now, Douma was sure she regarded him with disinterest. She would learn this was to her benefit.

"Are you excited, little one?" Douma mused.

She simply nodded, words unable to form. Her savior finally saw her bare. Heat bloomed across her face. She wanted his hands to roam her body and learn every curve. Waiting for his touch left an ache in her chest. Her breathing came out in spurts. The room felt too hot -- too humid.

warnings: blood and injury, mild gore, vaginal fingering, cults, public humiliation, branding, yandere elements, dismemberment, loss of fingers, smut, etc. etc.

word count: 3.3k

shoutout to @calslaundry for the beta read

a/n: hello friends, apologies for the lack of content! i haven't written in a while + this my first kny fic 😭

twitter | masterlist

She came to him in a miserable state -- her delicate body broken. Blood, like ribbons, flowed from her stomach. The wound was deep and hideous. Yet, the woman before him wore a serene expression, as if unaware of her current state. The sight brought amusement to Douma. His thin lips pulled into the phantom of a grin. Rainbow eyes dilated and focused on her pitiful form.

Behind her bounded a man; his skin filthy and caked in dried crimson. He looked disheveled, as if the listless woman struggled. Sweat kept his hair slick across his forehead. In his hand, his shaky little human hand, was a butcher knife.

"Stay out of this! She's…" The man trails off, waiting for the words to materialize, "My wife." The word sounds slimy, uncomfortable, coming from him. To punctuate his love, a calloused hand gripped the woman.

No sound came from her. Perhaps, she was his wife. Douma continued to observe the dramatic affair; fingers laced together. His expression was nothing less than curious. A carnal morbidity he wanted to see through.

Suddenly, the woman collapsed. Her skin lacked the rosy pigment so beloved by mortals. The man stumbled and instinctively cradled her wound. Disgust formed onto his features -- the man seemingly unaware of her state.

Douma felt blood drumming in his ears. This tiny, injured woman came to him near death, but didn't utter a single grievance. She had remained stoic despite her hideous wound. "Leave her."

Without a second thought, the man abandoned his would-be wife. His rapid footfalls echoed down the hall as Douma examined his pet. He noted how elegant her kimono was -- its silk now reddened and ruined. Douma believed the blood complimented her, and brought out her softness. Softness Douma wanted to destroy.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly. The room was unlike her little hovel. Innate gold and rubies were encrusted within every aspect; nothing less of excess. A room fit for a god. Perhaps this was her afterlife. Delicate fingers prodded her stomach -- the flesh swollen and blemished. Her fingertips brushed against the barb of wire. Lifting the simple Yukata, the woman noticed how intricate the stitching was. Black wire woven into itself to mimic the intricate shape of a flower.

"You're awake, my dear friend!" The voice was cheerful and deep. The sound not unlike the rumble in a summer storm.

Silence marked their conversation.

Floorboards creaked; a sign her mysterious caretaker was advancing. "Is my dear friend deaf?" This time, the man's voice held annoyance. A blatant disregard for his kind words left a rotten taste in the demon's mouth.

"I apologize for the trouble I caused you," she confessed, head level with the floor. The newly stitched woman was bowing before him. Had she hoped to mimic his congregation?

Unlike his devotees, her body didn't shake. No, her insignificant form stayed rigid. The slender curve of her back was straight, eyes still regarding the floor. Truthfully, Douma found himself savoring the view of this mortal. She seemed so obedient -- so unafraid of him.

The damned sentence stumbled last Douma's lips, "Stay with us; with me." Suddenly, the woman sensed a large hand atop her head, "You need to heal, my friend."

Tears began to foam at her eyes -- this man's kindness was unfamiliar. This rainbow eyed stranger not only stitched up her broken body, but offered sanctuary.

"Thank you." Douma noted the monotonousness of her voice. Here this pitiful woman was, her briny tears reeking, and yet she remained stoic. The scent was pleasant; as if crushed roses and salt had been mixed. Douma had noticed her blood carried a similar scent.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The days that followed were… familiar. Her days fell into structure. First, worship in the morning. Then, chores and her first meal followed by more chores. Finally, as dusk settled, her makeshift family gathered within the main hall for a special dinner. However, the dinner wasn't any fundamentally different. The menu still consisted of rich meats and exotic fruits, but their meal was special because of him.

At the end of their long, gold flecked table sat the rainbow eyed Douma. His face carried his typical jubilant expression. A soft smile graced his face -- leaving his eyes bright and lively. He watched his flock with interest, his eyes all too often falling upon his wounded pet. 'Pet' seemed to fit this woman far more than any word; she was compliant. The woman finished every task created for her. Her devotion to him -- only him -- brought a budding flush to his cheeks.

It was true the women of his cult would die for him. Their single-minded loyalty was stereotypical, expected. They chose to bleed for him, but once faced with their own mortality, his devotees lost steam. And yet this harpy had bled at his feet -- asked for his forgiveness.

Douma watched as the woman carefully gripped her chopsticks. Her hands were slender, and as soft as blooming flowers. In another world, Douma would have described her as delicate, but all the demon could feel was disdain. There was something so innocent about her fingers. Douma's eyes continued to flick between her face and hands. Such soft things devoid of callouses -- devoid of humanity.

His mind didn't typically race like this. Images of this woman seemed to plague him during dinner. She was a sickness that he couldn't shake. Her body had infiltrated him -- illustrating fantasies of him breaking her fingers and laughing as he ate them. Would she finally scream, finally allow herself emotion? Or would she succumb to him?

Douma's thin lips curled into a grin.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

"I don't want to ruin the elaborate textiles, sir." It was a habit to call him sir as her eyes bore into the floor. The woman acted like she was… unworthy to even glance at the demon. She seemed to make herself scarce when Douma was around. But now, she was forced ⁸to meet his face. Forced to tailor his clothing, despite the woman having no seamstress experience.

Douma didn't mind if his clothes were ruined. He merely wanted to observe his pet create with her hands.

A large hand rested atop her head, "Do not worry, my dear friend! I picked you for this. Do you not trust my judgement?" His question was more of a test than anything. He wanted to see more of her sickened devotion to him.

"I trust you," the woman replied, her hands buried in rich fabric. His clothes made her hands itch. Yet, she hid any discomfort. This was a task bestowed upon her -- it was the least she could do. This man had saved her life.

In the corner of his view, Douma saw it, the phantom of a smile. His emotionless pet still held humanity. However, the happiness stopped at her lips. Nothing seemed to reach her eyes.

"That expression suits you," his breath tickled her ear, "little one." The sensation of him -- his warmth was enough to quicken her pulse. A blush rose to her cheeks.

Before she could thank him, Douma vanished. She wanted to glance into his chromatic eyes. They held a light she hadn't noticed before. Something so spectacular and light.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Darkness naturally crept into Douma's eyes. The demon couldn't pinpoint a moment of emotion. It was as if he was born void of humanity. Perhaps that was his reason for being so disgustingly soft upon this woman.

She was in a tangled mess before him; eyes perpetually to the floor. The more he saw her like this -- the more Douma longed for her gaze. He was the only one worthy of her.

"This little runt broke the vase, my lord." Beside his little pet stood a woman; one of his most devoted. Yet, her very voice annoyed him.

Douma shifted in his throne, "What of it?" His face was contorted into happiness, but there was a callousness to him. A viper waiting in the grass.

The woman's expression hardened.

"Shouldn't she be punished, my lord?" Her question wasn't more than a whisper. This was common for his most loyal of followers; cowardly mortals that were afraid of him.

Douma leaned forward, his rainbow eyes lacking any compassion, "Are you telling me what to do?"

"N-no! I'd never, my lord! Please -- please forgive me, Lord Douma!" Her pleas flowed like a river; excuse upon excuse. Douma used to take pleasure in a maiden's distress. Now, he simply felt bored -- empty.

Certainly punishing his pet and maiming her would bring relief. Mortals were for his enjoyment, after all.

"Stand up," Douma commanded.

His voice sounded of the gods; nectar too sweet for human ears. His wounded pet felt heat rise to her cheeks. Gently, she assumed a knelt position, hands folded in her lap. They looked so delicate, so perfect for him. Saliva pooled in his mouth. His fantasy of her seemed unending.

"Sit," the demon motioned to his feet. "You are to stay until I find a suitable punishment, my dear friend." Without hesitation, his pet assumed her position. Her hands were now clear in Douma's view, tiny things clasped together.

As if satisfied, his devotee blended back into the crowd.

Even his presence was warmth; she could feel his radiance. Lord Douma was the opposite of her husband -- his chromatic eyes held nothing but comfort. He had opened his home to her, and allowed her to join his congregation. He was the sun; bright and nourishing.

His pet felt as if her heart would burst. Being this close to him -- to Lord Douma was almost overwhelming. He practically dwarfed her; his frame tall and muscular. Lord Douma's presence was suffocating above her. Lewd flashes of her savior played on loop. Silver hair slicked back, his bare chest on display, muscles flexing.

Quickly, she looked away from the demon with a silent curse on her lips.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Several days pass. Douma's pet had yet to leave his side. Her punishment was decided the second day she sat at his feet, but Douma found her presence… human. Slowly, she brought forth an emotion; serenity. Her very breathing seemed to lull him. In another life, she would have made a man very happy.

The demon's eyes shifted to his maiden. Her face was stoic as ever. She looked… Miserable? The thought made Douma's blood burn; sitting between his feet was a privilege. No other woman of the cult had been so close to him before.

Douma's thick brows knitted together in annoyance, "We should prepare for your punishment, shouldn't we?" Plastered on his face was the smile she yearned for.

"Yes, my lord."

Douma clapped his hands. Suddenly, his harem of women began to spill into the room. They looked to him like god; eyes wide and wanting. He cherished his cult for their devotion, something that would benefit him today.

He tilted his head and pointed, "Strip her." Douma's instruction was materialized before him. Her body laid in the brood of his women. Bruises marked her body like bee stings; his most devoted had such vicious means. Her exquisite yukata was ruined. Shreds hung to her trembling form.

She made him sick.

"Hold her down, my dear friends~!" Douma's feigned happiness crinkled at his eyes. To any nonbeliever, he looked human, yet his followers knew better. They knew behind the facade was a monster; a man bent on misery. "Bring me the brand."

His pet watched as the metal was heated. Douma held the poker like it was precious; watching in delight. Black steel turning dangerously red was quite the show. Certainly, his excitement was sweetened by… her. Even now, Douma was sure she regarded him with disinterest. She would learn this was to her benefit.

"Are you excited, little one?" Douma mused.

The demon sauntered over to his pet, the brand now smoking. "Stay still," he murmured. It was her shred of justice before Douma plunged the brand between her breasts. First there was silence. Then came a cry unlike any before. Loud. Anguished. Heart wrenching. It was the sound of his pet bearing her soul. Something so private, meant only for him.

He pressed the metal further into her flesh. Burnt skin reached his nostrils; her scent wasn't unlike roasted boar. Rich, gamey. His mind painted her nude and covered in sake. Underneath his regalia, Douma felt blood rush to his cock. Douma looked at her, waiting for another cry. Yet, she regained composure. Her skin was balmy and she trembled.

Finally, her eyes met his. Douma sees the hint of relief -- as if she wanted this. "L-lord Douma," she slurred. His gaze shifted to her lips; anticipating her speech. Nothing left her except a heave. A soft little noise before she passed out, limp and vulnerable. Somehow, Douma felt sorry for her.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The woman woke with a jolt; air burning her lungs. Gasping, she took inventory of the dimly lit room. The space was more of the caricature of a room. It was a bedroom, but looked almost unlived in. Everything was too perfect. The realization came as she touched her chest. This was Lord Douma's private quarters. A place reserved for his most devoted.

...and here she was, laying in his bed.

Her chest was tender. The skin was charred and bandaged. She wondered if Lord Douma himself had treated her. The fantasy brought a flush to her cheeks. She fingered the wound; gentle to trace its shape. Between her breasts was a delicate lotus; her body marked forever.

"I can hear you, my dearest friend," his voice sounded like rainfall after a drought. "Come. Bring me more sake."

Beside the futon was a gourd. The object was heavy; enough for two hands if not more. Truthfully, his pet struggled to lift it. The liquid inside sloshed around like the sea. It carried a sweet smell. Fruity. Radiant. The scent reminded the woman of Lord Douma.

Soft humming filtered into the room, the source not far. Practically dragging the sake, his pet ventured towards the sound. Towards him.

With the push of a door came humidity and steam. The atmosphere was sticky and too warm. Lord Douma had created a swamp instead of a bath.

His booming tone shook the room, "Come closer, little one." The phrase sent goosebumps up her spine.

She continued to drag the gourd across slick tile. His pet didn't want to make a fool of herself. However, with each step came unequal footing. She wobbled, trying to keep her grace and sake intact. One particularly heavy footfall was miscalculated. She fell onto the porous ground with a sharp bang; the gourd in pieces at her feet.

"Clumsy, aren't we, little one?" His tone is lousy with arousal. The sentence vibrated from his chest.

"I'm sor--"

Douma only uttered a simple phrase, "Join me, my pet."

Her legs moved without authority. Douma had complete agency over her; bewitching his prey. It was the kindness she deserved, after all. She was his most devoted -- his most prized slab of meat. Partially, Douma believed she was plagued with bad luck. First the damned woman is stabbed, then she falls desperately into his lap. She was a fawn -- clumsy and aching for attention.

Muscles were the first thing she noticed, followed shortly by ashen hair. Somehow, his chromatic eyes still shined within the haze. He had to be a deity -- someone special.

Quickly, she averted her eyes. This sight wasn't meant for a mortal like her. Crimson hung to her cheeks like warpaint, the woman more blush than skin. His pet removed her yukata without ceremony. The elaborate fabric crumpled at her feet. Douma felt air pitch in his chest and blood rush to his cock.

"Sit in my lap."

His lover looked at him; her eyes curious and wanting and wide, pupils dilated. She shuffled into the bath, like a babe taking its first steps. Gingerly, she sat beside him. A hiss escaped her lips as the hot water meets her burn. Mortals -- as Douma knew -- were devoted to a fault.

A cold arm encompassed her waist. Douma pulled the mortal closer, her smell mixing with the bath. Saliva dotted at the corners of his mouth. His polite aurora seemed to drop -- the predator now before her. "It's okay, little one," his breath tickled her neck, "you can relax. You're safe."

Safe. He was safe. Her body untensed in his grip. The woman leaned into him, her bare back pressed into his chest. Her rapid heartbeat echoed into Douma; his body rang with her life force. It hurt to hold her like this. His instincts demanded he tear her apart, her blood diluting the water. Yet, he resisted. Instead, he took inventory of her hands. They were tender -- fragile. His broad hands engulfed hers as he rubbed circles into her palms.

Douma -- with grace -- lifted her fore and middle finger into his mouth. His fawn exhaled a gasp. The sudden movement caused her to wobble atop his knee. A hand rubbed her stomach, as if to provide comfort. Slobber leaked down her hand. Lord Douma's saliva. She wanted to bring the spit covered hand to her chest -- to feel a part of him. Douma sucked at her fingers. His tongue rolled over her knuckles and savored her.

"Lord Douma --"

Her words hung in muggy air. Only one sound penetrated through the room; a sob. The woman's blood mixed with unholy drool. In Douma's mouth were two delicate fingers -- her fingers. The sudden pang subsided, yet her heart continued to race. She was stuck; fear had collapsed in her veins. Her weak, mortal body shook. The sensation was uncontrollable.

"Stay still, my pet," Douma mused, his voice obstructed by gore. He refused to relent; his tone still cheery. Her body demanded she move, but her mind screamed for him. Torn between heart and brain, she quaked in his lap. Her hand fell limp into the bath water. Red blossomed beside her.

Douma's hands trailed down her body, as if to memorize her shape. His cockhead ached for stimulation -- for her. Without the air of a lord, Douma shifted his pet, her cunt now exposed to the heat. Carefully, he removed her disembodied fingers from his mouth. "Let me take care of you." His words were little more than a command -- no -- a threat.

Harshly, the demon shoved a finger into her cunt; the very finger he bit off. Disgust and lust bubbled together in her stomach. Naive eyes looked down as Douma pumped into her. A bloodied chin rested on his pet's shoulder. His humming vibrated into her bones. Thunderous. Awful.

Heat bloomed between her thighs. Lewd sounds of her core bounced off the walls. She bit her lip, stubborn and refusing to give into the demon.

Rainbow eyes drifted to her face, "Are you not satisfied, little one?" His tone faltered before a second finger jams into her soaking cunt. The woman's mouth betrayed her. Out came a wanton moan. Loud and squealing. Douma's face contorted into a grin, his breath beating upon her. "What's that? You want me to go faster~?" His pace burst into an almost hellish speed. The fingers hit her walls, scissoring her entrance. Douma acted as if he knew her very body. Roughly, he tweaked her nipple. Another cry pierced the air; his reward for her devotion.

"Come for me," Douma commanded, heavy humming now vibrating her jaw. "Show me your devotion." His voice wasn't more than a whisper, yet she felt the warmth between her thighs explode. The bundle in her stomach dissipated into bliss; eyes closed and breathing even.

Douma rubbed her cheek. This was perhaps his only action of humanity -- of charity. As his most devoted, she was worthy.

#douma x reader #doma x reader #yandere kny #kny x reader #ive finally lost my mf MIND #kny #smut

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gh0sts-oc-hell · 3 years ago

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┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ✧

┊ ┊ ✦

┊ ✧

✦

୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ About Soot Akuji ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

★electro vision

★akin to how Gorou is, but is part Tanuki

★when Crepus first found her she was literally foaming at the mouth- my girl had rabies fr fr

★like how Yae has a fox form she can turn into a Tanuki!

★they use any pronouns!

★use a claymore but can also weird a bow well(rubs it in Diluc’s face)

★has a different flower for different times of the years and meanings that she’ll put at her fathers grave

★very chaotic and hyperactive, but can and will have moments of quiet

★usually gets paired with Tartaglia and the two have a close and good sibling bond

★likes a girl (another OC) that works at the KoF as an investigator!

★always tries to get hurt in some way to go visit and see her

★she is 15 and Calleum is 16

★soot has an eye over on her right eye when she doesn’t have her mask one due to the abyss screwing up her eye. Various parts of her got corrupted, part of that being her eye and the area around it, having weird coloration in the skin and blackish veins, a pale eye with a starry pupil that’s broken. Her legs and arms have some veins and corrupted areas, the main being her hands, tips of ears, and feet due to the frostbite before she fell into the abyss and it being infected with abyssal energy

★she’s covered in scars but is very proud of them! Each has a story and she’s love to tell them! She even has burn scars from early days with her vision

★very clumsy and reckless, not a good combo

★calls Diluc Luc or Dee and Kaeya Kae (used to call them Deedee and Yay yay as a young kid)

★loves animals

★can hibernate or something of the sort, will get very tired and lazy in winder, her hair and fur in her ears and tail thicken and her body feels heavy and constantly relaxed

★due to this diluc got her a pyro seelie for dragonspine that stays in a little charm on her belt

★at the winery or at kaeyas home when she’ll take anything that covers up her abyssal issues(eye covers/masks, bandages, arm sleeves or covers, etc.)

★still sees Kaeya as an older brother

★still tries to get her brothers to mend their relationship

★there’s an unspoken rule on the day of their fathers death. No fighting whatsoever, everyone gets along and it’s a moment to be vulnerable as they all meet up and visit his grave. It’s the one day a year Kaeya refuses to drink

★found out she can get sicknesses that animals do after contracting rabies from a raccoon she tried to pet( No Diluc, In didn’t ear whipped cream)

★sometimes takes over dilucs shifts or covers him with his darknight hero work

★took a drink of wine while she was in the front at the bar making drinks while diluc was in the back (she gulped it down right as he walked out back into the tavern…)

★loves to join Kaeya on knightly work or diluc on darknight hero work, just wants things to be like how they were when they were kids and will savor any memories

★loves sweets, really sour or spicy food, just doesn’t like bland or boring things in general

★like paranormal/creepy things; had been found having dealings with such as well

★the reddish brown in her hair is her roots (red hair) growing back in

★dyes her hair a lot

★nicknamed Fritz due to when she was younger and didn’t have full control over her vision

★lives in the winery with diluc but sometimes crashed at kaeyas placd

★visits and will stay at Liyue often

★mint jelly is her favorite food

★ she fell into the abyss at a young age, resulting in her gaining abyssal corruption

> more about it here

★little imagine of her staring up at a large painting in the winery of her brothers and Crepus and her when they were younger. Glaring up at it with tears in her eyes, fur on her tail standing up and a slight shake to her posture.

-just imagining something like this playing in the back:

#genshin impact oc #genshin #genshin impact #genshin oc #genshin.soot #diluc #Kaeya #genshin imagines #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #Spotify

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alonelytinywriter · 4 years ago

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Oh Hush You

touya-is-dabi said to alonelytinywriter:

Heyy if I send an ask for some Zeni x Dabi thirst is that allowed? Take it as far as you see fit. The thirstier the better . . . I need some Jealous dabi in my life. So maybe make shigiraki flirt with Zeni or something?

I got chu doll! I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it. Lots of love <3 <3

Warnings: There be soft smut here, Dabi being a soft guy, even if he is kinda a twat for a itty bitty, bitty bit . . . and then Dabi being a not so soft guy if you get the idea! Cursing, Jealousy, soft! Dabi . . . Enjoy!

Dabi / Zeni Devi ~ Lovely baby of @touya-is-dabi

Playlist - Love Songs, Drug Songs - X Ambassadors

Name: Zeni Devi ~ Birthday: December 6 ~ Age: 21 ~ Hair Color: White ~ Eye Color: Sea-foam Green ~ Gender: Female ~ Height: 5’4’’ ~ Quirk: Permafrost ~ Occupation: LOV Member

Appearance:

Zeni is five foot four, but everyone comments on the way she seems taller in the same way that ballerinas do, with a long neck and willowy limbs, although not many ballerina’s would have hundreds of freckles scattered across their body, nor piercings in places such as their tongue or belly button. She is slender with long legs and long bright white hair and deep azure roots - which grows blue naturally only a few inches away from her scalp - and large sea foam green eyes surrounded by thick lashes that curl and seem to brush against her cheeks when she blinks. If one were asked to describe her, they would say that she was bright and radiant, like her face was truly alive, despite the sour attitude she might show those around her. ~ She typically dresses in jeans and sweaters or coats, and always wears boots, in which she keeps small weapons hidden for when her quirk becomes to much to handle in battle. Due to the nature of her Quirk, Zeni commonly looks as if she is ready to take a trip into the snow - even during the middle of the summer - and her quirk causes the skin around her fingers, elbows, knees and ankles to constantly feel chapped. The band-aids she uses to cover the cracks and sores have steadily grown more and more ridiculous over the years and she currently goes out of her way to find the most brightly colored Hello Kitty band-aids whenever she can . . . if only to annoy Dabi, not that he needs to know that.

Quirk: Permafrost ~ Zeni’s Quirk allows her to replace her bodily fluids (spit, tears, sweat, etc.) with liquid nitrogen, allowing her to use it as both defence and weapon during attacks and missions with the LOV. The longer Zeni actively uses the power, the stronger the liquid nitrogen becomes. If Zeni over uses this Quirk, a layer of frostbite begins to seep across her skin and lungs, freezing any natural moister in its way, and due to the nature of the Quirk, her body is constantly freezing, and crying can become a horror for her as the liquid nitrogen will turn to dry ice and she’ll begin crying blood because dry ice blocks her tear glands. The only way Zeni is able to combat against the drawbacks of this Quirk is by warming up, though she finds it very hard to do so.

Power - 5/5 ~ Speed - 3/5 ~ Technique - 4/5 ~ Intelligence - 6/6 (S) ~ Cooperativeness - 1/5

Oh Hush You

~ “This isn’t right! You shouldn’t be winning! It isn’t fair! Isn’t fair! Isn’t fair!” Rolling her eyes, Zeni continued to skid her fingertips across the buttons to the controller of her Switch, even while Shigaraki tried to elbow her into messing up. “How are you winning?”

~ “I already told you that you should just do what I’m doing. It’s not like anyone actually knows how to use her yet. Everyone else is gonna be button mashing too.” Zeni laughed as she watched Shigariki’s character fly from the screen once again and snickered, racing after the dropped power-up.

~ “I am not mashing the buttons.”

~ The power up pushed Shiggy’s character from the platform once again and Zeni watched as the screen flashed GAME OVER again. “Well, then, you’re going to keep on loosing.”

~ “ . . . Shut . . . Up.”

~ And so it continued, and even though it was well past three in the morning, neither Zeni nor Shiggy were willing to set their game consoles down, and one game turned into five then thirty, and then they lost count and it became a challenge to see who would come out on top. Even though Zeni found Shigaraki annoying at the best of times, it was nice to relax and fight in a way that wouldn’t end in bloodshed but in laughter instead. And Dabi was away on a mission, so it wasn’t like she had anything better to do without him there. She knew it was getting late, but she wanted to wait for him to arrive, wanted to be there to greet him when he came through the doors. What she didn’t want to do was fall asleep with her head on Shigaraki’s lap. Specifically not long enough that she would still be in that position when Dabi came home.

~ That was the only explanation Zeni could come with with, eyes wide open as she stared around the empty room. Shiggy was still asleep up above her, his breath steady, completely unaffected by whatever it was that had woken Zeni from her sleep. Maybe it had been Twice, Zeni mused, as she forced Shigaraki awake and directed him to his bedroom so he wouldn’t bitch at anyone when they started coming into the room in the morning. Turning the television off, Zeni yawned and began to make her way to her room wondering if Dabi had made it to the base yet.

~ The question was answered for her as she walked past the hallway leading to Dabi’s door and she could hear him cursing and tossing things in his room. It seemed strange, that Dabi hadn’t woke her when he arrive home, that he hadn’t let her know how the mission had gone. And why was he locked in his room, clearly breaking one thing after another? He doesn’t even pause the first time she knocks, or the second or third. It’s not until she literally slams her hands against the door, rattling it in its frame, that Dabi’s rant inside the room seems to calm.

~ Red light filtered into the hallway when Dabi throws the door open, and his glowering stare is nearly enough to make Zeni shrink back. “What’s your problem? Why didn’t you tell me you where back?” Dabi continued to stare down at her for a moment before scoffing. “Why don’t you just go on, huh?”

~ . . . “What did you just say to me?” Zeni has never had problems laying hands on people to get her way, and when her hands land on his chest the steam the rises nearly creates a cloud that neither can see through. “What is your fucking problem Dabi?” “Not a fucking thing!” Rubbing her eyes, Zeni laughed. “Yeah, try again. You’re acting like a jerk. What did the mission not go well? Did you not get to show off or something?”

~ “Why don’t you just go to sleep, Ze.” “Because I’m not tired.” Breathing heavily, the two stare at each other for a long moment. His room wasn’t trashed, Zeni realized once she looked away. Sure, there was a broken lamp against the far wall, and she was pretty sure she could smell smoke, which meant something had been on fire at some point. “Fine, you’re not tired? Then why don’t you go talk to Shigaraki, since you’re such good friends?” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before he throws himself down onto his bed, mumbling into the pillows about how he was tired, so if she didn’t mind, he was going to be going to bed.

~ Zeni couldn’t believe it. How dare he? What an ass! Huffing, she slammed her way from the room. Who did he think he was, talking to her like that? He never talked like that before so why would he . . .

~ The door was still open and she was able to slip in soundlessly, the thick socks on her feet covering any sound of her footsteps when she moved to stand next to his bed, but Dabi does startle when she throws herself onto the bed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Her lips were on his neck when she answered, but the words were soft and Dabi nearly didn’t hear her as she threw the question back at him instead of properly answering. He wasn’t happy about it, and he tried to show her by shoving her from the bed, away from him, but she straddles his waist and frowns down at him while her hair creates an snowy curtain around them.

~ “I figured it out, you know. What woke me up earlier. It was you, wasn’t it? You didn’t get jealous because I was asleep with Shiggy, did you?” His Quirk flaring to life at his fingertips was answer enough and Zeni laughed, quickly putting out the flames with her own Quirk. “You’re joking right? You’re jealous of crusty, musty Shiggy?” He denies it of course but Zeni can’t help herself - “You are so! You’re so jealous I can see your eyes turning green!”

~ Growling, Dabi flips them over and straddles her the same way she was him just a instant before, his voice gravel as he tells her over and over that she is his, and no one else could have her. To Zeni, it shouldn’t have even been a question, but to Dabi it seemed a mantra he needed to repeat again and again, even as they rolled and fought to be on top, lips and teeth marking necks and exposed collar bones, flames and frost flashing to counter one or the other. “You were jealous.” Zeni scoffed lightly, her breathing coming in short panting gasps as Dabi’s teeth continued to scrap across her skin. “You were mad that I was asleep with Shiggy -”

~ “You belong to me.” Dabi snarled. “Maybe if you weren’t getting so chummy with Shigaraki, this wouldn’t be a problem. I wouldn’t have gotten so fucking -” Zeni cuts him off with her lips, her fingers threaded through his hair as steam rises from their mouths, the heat so intense, Zeni wondered if kissing the sun would feel similar. Her shirt was gone between one breath and the next, and so was Dabi’s. Their hands were not soft as they felt each other, their teeth sharp against the others skin. “You know I only want you.”

~ Steam fogged the windows and mirror above the dresser, and their clothes were scattered around the room when Dabi finally entered Zeni in one sharp thrust, groaning her name like a payer. He’s not gentle by any means, and deep down Zeni knew that he wouldn’t be when she walked back into the room and instigated this. Moaning into his mouth, she felt her hips begin to rock against his, her fingers threading through his hair. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, bleeding into the steam throughout the room with the sweet scent of burnt sugar and caramel. “You’re mine, you know that. Mine and only mine, Ze.”

~ “I know. I know. I know.” Zeni threw her head back, nails scrambling for purchase against Dabi’s back, as she felt the coil within her tighten. Dabi’s growls softened to a hum when he moves to palm a handful of her ass, his hips jerking when she pulses around him in response. “Dabi, Dabi - please, Dabi -” Dabi groans, whispering quite words of nonsense into her ear as he finds his thrusts growing shorter, filled with purpose as he chased their high together. Zeni looked as if she were a goddess in the darkness of his room, and her tits, heavy and perfectly sized for her body, bounced with each rantic thrust.“Dabi, Dabi, Dabi -”

~ “Mine.” Dabi growled as he felt her fluttering around him, her back arching from the bed as he was thrown over the edge as well, his nails carving into the slope of her spine as he forced her closer. “You’re mine.”

#dabi #my hero academia #bnha #bnha dabi #my brain isn't working #I don't know how i feel about this #but ive been working on it so long #and it doesn't get better #please enjoy

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mildly-incoherent-ramblings · 3 years ago

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Alturas

Derived From, And An Offshoot Of “The Weekend In The Country” Writing Prompt, Given By Adam Gnade.

A Preface: This story is awful. I have tried to work through this experience for years. This is a work of semi-fiction I suppose, but most of this really did happen, and you can guess which character is based on me pretty easily. I do not condone ANY of the actions depicted here. Please, care for your animal friends, and your elderly family, and if you cannot, find help for them. Good fucking god find some help and fucking save them. Do everything in your power. I did not sleep a full night’s sleep for months after what I saw that weekend.

CW: animal abuse, animal neglect, self neglect, dementia, guns, gunfire, themes of transphobia/homophobia, domestic abuse, toxic family dynamics, misogyny, vivid sensory descriptions of these things.

Part 1: Knuckle Bones

The drive itself was not bad. There was felt a certain nostalgia for many trips down south to San Diego to visit my great aunt with the family when we were children, or to the north to see the snow in the winter. Dad got lost for a little while, but he refused to admit it, he just angrily grumbled to himself and yelled to the backseat if anyone made a noise that broke his concentration. We rode through miles of outstretched quiet roads interrupted by the occasional rest area, and only stopped briefly at points for food and gas, and to rotate who got to sit in the front seat. On freeways and then off of them and up into the endless hills, long winding roads that almost felt like going in circles we drove, all of us anticipating the destination. We were going to visit grandma and grandpa, my Dad’s stepmom and father. They lived on a little farm out in Alturas.

Alturas is a small town nestled up in the rightmost corner of California, bordered both by Nevada to the east and Oregon to the north. When we finally arrived there, the first thing I noticed were the hot air balloons. I had never seen them in person before. Floating out toward the horizon and above us and all around were hundreds of these drifting along, wicker baskets and all. Being mostly a city kid, I had almost forgotten they even existed. Peacefully scattered near and far in an expanse of clear blue sky I saw them; big beautiful ones with complex designs in an array of bright colors; mostly red and yellow with splotches of cyan and green, bits of neon pink. They reminded me of printer cartridges or SMPTE bars on a TV screen. I fixated on them as we rode up onto the main street of the town.

We stopped at a diner for breakfast, and the realization hit me that I was with my family and in a moderately conservative area. I would have no choice but to act as a woman here, I would not be given another option. I’d have to try my best to blend at least. Dressed in a baggy T-shirt and jeans, and a baseball cap backwards like some 90′s mall bro troupe, one could say that alone was a dead giveaway. But to these people, and to my family at the time, I was a dyke at best. At worst... lets not get into it.

We ate breakfast at this little place, dusty and kind of worn down, white walls yellowed over the years with tacky décor displayed upon them. The Don’t-Tread-On-Me flag hung up in the corner made me very nervous. Dad and my brother didn’t notice, but the old folks at the table next to us, and the truckers on the other side of the room, and the CHP officers grouped together at the bar shot daggers in my general direction, some of them holding their glare on me like snipers aiming for my head from the top of a building. I tried to eat quickly and eat well, especially since I hadn’t had anything that day except for gas station coffee and a pack of hostess mini donuts several hours before. I ate like I eat, which can be stereotyped as like how a man eats. At one point my brother said I wasn’t being polite, even though his table manners were about as bad, and the reason why he felt it different for me need not be spoken. Loud and clear.

My brother had a really hard time accepting my transition. Same with Dad. Neither will admit to it now but they both were cruel to me often, and for a while hoped they could just disregard this aspect of me and force me back into the box of womanhood until I gave up. When I first came out my brother he offered me a pair of jeans he didn’t wear anymore and asked me if I needed any advice on good cologne to wear, needed any razors, etc. This enthusiasm wouldn’t last. The next time he wanted money from me, or my weed, or something of mine he could sell, or someone he could point his anger toward, he would weaponize my former femininity against me and revert back to the same misogynistic behavior I had always known him to engage in. I was a woman again when he wanted me to be one, and I had no choice in this matter. This would go on for years. He still to this day has a deep subconscious hate for women, but thankfully and in despite of how sickening these implications are I have escaped this form of mistreatment after starting testosterone.

My Dad was a bit more open, he just didn’t know how to navigate it. He wanted to allow my brother to “have his own opinion” and opted to avoid discussion of it as much as possible. He would later learn that when it comes to something like this, there are no SIDES, there is either upholding the human need to live authentically or deny that need no matter how negatively this affected me and others like me. These days, he proudly supports me and is kind to the trans people in his neighborhood, and would like very much to take his kids to pride once covid is contained and its safe to attend large events again. He got better. Thank fucking god he got better.

We checked into an Inn down the road, got out and stretched our legs. My brother and I immediately went to go smoke a joint. We hid around the back of the building hoping Dad wouldn’t notice, but apparently we stank up the whole area and came back to him seething with anger. He sparked a cigarette, tried to calm down, and we unloaded our belongings from the car in silence. Then it was time to head to the farm.

A few miles out from town we drove through the acres of desolate farmland down a dirt and gravel road that seemed to go on forever. I didn’t recognize the area until we started pulling into the driveway to their little house. Dad was swearing and smacking his steering wheel, cursing no one in particular but frustrated at how the gravel would scratch the paint on his car. We were, though we did try to blend in, hilariously obvious city people.

I recognized the shapes first, the house, the big looming tree on the right side, the wire fences surrounding the property, the rusty old truck. I had only been here as a kindergartener so my exact recollection of this place was fuzzy, but I had fond memories of the animals and how happy grandma and grandpa were to see me. I felt some excitement to return to this place that I always felt to be so welcoming, warm and filled with love. Then we got closer.

The first thing I noticed were the dogs. Two gigantic rabid pitbulls, one chained to the tree in the yard and one chained to a fence post just to the side of the house behind him. They were both aggressively barking and pulling on their chains trying to get to our car, foaming at the mouths and vicious as hell. I am cautious to describe this because I am aware of a certain stigma around pitbulls and their commonly misunderstood demeanor, and I will add that I have never known any dog of this breed to be cruel in any way by nature. But these dogs, they were not aggressive out of any sort of inherent violence and hatred, they were scared. They wanted to escape. The felt us to be a threat. Their paws were caked in shit and mud, mucus leaking from their eyes and matts in their fur. There were big festering wounds on the side of the dog nearest the truck as though he was bitten by something. Before him, the remains of a cat who had been caught and torn to shreds lay splayed open and rotting in the summer heat, the carcass filled with maggots. Bits of the poor things insides were scattered around the yard.

I turned my eyes over toward the house. The building itself had deteriorated significantly. The paint was peeling and chipped. Rotting wood was visible underneath all covered in a thick, black mold. The entire yard was littered with trash; rusty old cans and plastic bags, rotting apple cores, some unidentifiable mounds of what I can only assume had once been food waste. Weeds overgrew dusty and dry, and the front porch itself was falling away barely keeping its shape. To the left of it, the garage was wide open and I could see the stacks upon stacks of busted furniture, rusted metal piping, lengths of barbed wire wrapped in bundles and all manner of poorly kept junk haphazardly packed against the inner side wall.

My father’s eyes went wide as we all sat in silence, shocked at the appearance of what was apparently the home his mom and dad had been living in for the last few decades, and just how much the state of this place had declined since our last visit. He held his fist to his mouth, clenched so tight you could see his knuckle bones through his skin. Pushing back tears, he tried his best to shake the face of disgust and horror from himself before cautiously opening the door. Under his breath, my brother uttered the phrase “what the fuck,” which immediately resulted in dad turning toward the back seat angrily and slamming his fist on the middle console, growling at him to shut the fuck up through clenched teeth. The spray of his spit fell on our faces. His expression had shifted to be dramatically similar to the dogs. Anger and defensiveness as a secondary reaction to an underlying feeling of danger, and a desire to escape the inevitable. I have nightmares of this face.

Just then grandpa came hobbling out from the garage clutching a 12 gauge shotgun, screaming for grandma that they had burglars on the premises and commanding us to leave. He pointed it upward and haphazardly fired a warning shot which went straight through the roof of the garage and aimed the smoking barrel directly at us. All three of us had our hands up instantly. Grandma came hobbling out of the house pulling through the dirt in her walker as quickly as she could, yelling for him to stop.

“Garland, that’s your fucking SON. And the grandchildren! They’ve come to visit, we just discussed this earlier this morning FOR FUCKS SAKE GARLAND PUT IT DOWN!” She grabbed his arm and he froze, the tension in his shoulders dropped. He lowered his weapon, staring at us puzzled as he processed the situation.

“ANDREW?” He yelled. “ANDREW IS THAT YOU SON?”

“Yes, Dad. Its us. Me and the kids.” he returned. He was shaking so much in the front seat I could feel it from the back. He slowly lowered his hands to his lap, my brother and I frozen in shock.

(part 2 coming soon)

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mahimahi713 · 7 years ago

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Christmas Truce 2017

Yes, it is 2018. Yes, it is obsenely late.

But life is life and it is done. I hope you enjoy, @bluename

Its Clockwork being a troll. I loved writing it, the prompt was just too amusing.

DPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDP

To those who knew of Clockwork, he was a serious, no nonsense, but kind ghost. To the few who thought they knew him, he was pretentious and kind of an asshole. And, to those few who actually knew him, he was all of these things and also…a prankster. Those few knew to keep their mouths shut, lest they be on the receiving end of a particularly humiliating prank. When Clockwork was in the mood, no one was safe from him.

It was a typical spring day that Clockwork decided to cause a bit of “chaos” around Amity Park. Amity park was his favorite place to pick victims, other than the ghostzone. Ghosts were fun to prank (things like steaking Skulker’s suit and giving it to Klemper. Turning Johnny's bike pink, putting a muzzle on Youngblood's parrot. However, something about pranking humans was especially satisfying. He even got some ghosts to help him sometimes. Like the time he got the box ghost to switch the contents of packages people received; Teen boys got vibrators, macho men types received stuffed animals and dresses, those who hated insects received boxes of them.

Today, however, he decided to act alone. What made his pranks so fun, was that he always got away with it. After all, save for maybe three people in Amity, who could ever know to blame him? As he scanned over Amity park in his tower, he thought of what pranks he wanted to pull. He paused over a couple of teen boys throwing around a football in the park and his smile turned devious. He quickly went to the park and watched the boys, Dash and Kwan, for a moment before acting.

“Time out!” he said. His eyes scanned the park, and he quickly found what he was looking for: a squirrel mid jump.

He took the squirrel, and replaced the football with it. The football had been flying towards Dash, who’s hands were ready to catch it.

“Time in!” Said Clockworks, just after turning invisible.

“ I got i-“ Dash cried out, expecting the football. But upon seeing the squirrel flying towards him, his eyes bulged. “What the f-!”

He didn’t get to finish his statement before the squirrel, landed on his face and began to claw at any skin its claws touched.

Dash began to screech. “Get it off me! Get it off me!” He tried to fling it off, but in its fear, the squirrel clung tighter and then crawled into his shirt. His screams intensified.

Kwan watched, frozen in place. “Don’t hurt Mr. Squirrel!” he said as Dash began slapping his chest.

Clockwork, having turned to his child form, giggled hysterically. He sighed and watched aa the squirrel finally jumped out.

Dash sniffed and quickly wiped at the tears that had escaped his eyes.

“Kwan!” he yelled, shakily. “What the fuck did you do? Why didn’t you help me?!”

“I didn’t put it there! And I didn’t want to hurt the squirrel! You didn’t have to either!”

“What about me?!” Dash questioned.

“You’re fine!” Kwan replied.

As their argument intensified, Clockwork made his way to a familiar brick house.

Inside Fenton Works, Jack Fenton was getting ready to enjoy a fresh batch of fudge his wife had just made.

He quickly paused time, disabled their ghost sensor, and got to work. He looked in the fridge and in the back, found an expired bottle of tartar sauce. He mixed it with some horseradish he also found. He scanned the fridge again and was surprised to see a jar of Vegemite. He mixed that in, too, nearly the whole jar. Finally, he took some Kale, which Jack and Danny refused to eat and threw it in.

Clockwork laughed to himself as he prepared the fudge. He took some off the top, added a layer of his “concoction” and put back the fudge and smoothed out the top.

Once again, he re-started time and watched his prank unfold.

Jack took the large spoon he had (It was actually a serving spoon, but when it came to Fudge for him, the bigger the bite, the better.) and he scooped up a good quarter of the fudge. He managed to shove it all in before chewing.

He chewed for a moment, eyes closed, before his eyes bulged open and he ran to the sink and spat out the fudge. He rinsed out his mouth and cried out for Maddie.

“Maddie! Maddie, come here! Maddie!” he began pacing, or rather stomping, arounf the kitchen.

“Jack! I'm working! What are you yelling about?” She asked.

“My fudge, Maddie, my fudge! How could you?! Don’t you know not the mess with a mans fudge??”

“Jack, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

He thrust the tray towards her. “Look! I can forgive the horseradish and whatever else that is, but kale?? How could you? Kale! Of all things!”

“Jack, I had no idea how this got in here! I didn’t do it.” She assured him.

“Well! It must has been a ghost then!” he said.

“Impossible! Our sensor would have gone off, and if a ghost tried to turn it off, it would have attacked them.”

‘Unless you have the power to stop time' Thought Clockwork. He quickly left he broke into hysterical laughter.

He pulled some pranks here and there in Amity: Bugs in Paulina’s make up, turning the news reporter, Lance's hair baby poop green by putting dye in his conditioner, making it so Val’s weapons did things like squirt water or shoot out foam darts, etc.

It was getting late when he came upon his final victims. Sam, Danny, and Tucker were taking advantage of Sam's empty house to watch movies, bowl, eat too much junk food, and raid the liquor cabinet. Not that they were doing anything wrong, they were all 21. But the Manson’s had only the best, and Danny and Tucker enjoyed being able to have it for free.

He tried to do what he was planning (Alcohol replaced with Juice, taking the food, and so on) when Danny left the room, so he couldn’t sense him.

However, Sam sighed and called him out.

“Clockwork, I know you’re there. Whatever you’re thinking of pulling, don’t.”

He turned visible. “How did you know?”

“We managed to figure out, well, mostly Sam figured it out, that you're the ghost pranker of Amity Park.” Danny said, walking back into the room.

“We’ve heard about all the pranks happening today and knew you were around.” Tucker stated.

I don't get it, didn't you know we'd figure you out?” Sam asked.

“I uh, didn’t look that far ahead…” He replied.

Sam sighed and turned back towards the giant TV screen.

“Really, Clocky,” Sam started, and his eye twitched at the nickname. “You should know better.”

“You really should.” Danny chided.

“Yup.” Said Tucker.

Clockwork frowned.

“Well, you’re already here, you’re welcome to join us, if you'd like.” Sam offered.

“Oh, thank you. That’s kind, I have to get back though.” He said.

“That's too bad, but hey! Next time, get us in on that action.” Tucker said.

“Oh yeah, that would be awesome.” Danny said.

“I already have some ideas.” Sam stated.

“Oh, they’re evil.” Tucker said.

Clockwork smiled. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

He was about to disappear when Danny stopped him.

“Hey, listen, everyone thinks it's me pulling the pranks, could you maybe somehow, show that it isn’t?”

Clockwork thought for a moment.

“I can.” He replied.

“Oh great! Will you?” Danny asked.

Clockwork smirked.

“No.” He stated and he disappeared with a dramatic sweep of his cloak.

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hornsbeforehalos · 7 years ago

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Anytime, Sweetheart: Part 2

Pairing: JDM x OFC (RPF)

Features: Ackles & Padalecki Families, R2, Misha Collins & Vicky Vantoch, Norman Reedus, Andrew Lincoln, Kim Rhodes, Briana Buckmaster, Ruth Connell, Corey Taylor and other cast members & OFCs* *THIS IS AN RPF FIC**

Series Masterlist Summary: (I’m horrible at summaries, but let me try): Kylin Ackles runs to her brother’s house after leaving her abusive boyfriend of 3 years, where she meets Jeffrey. Events unfold that bring them together, as well as push them apart. Warnings: Emotional abuse, Physical Violence, mentions of rape, cursing, drinking, recreational drug use (weed), Strip Club, RPF, NSFW**, GIFs, implied smut, Age Difference, Slow burn, Emotional rollercoaster, poorly written smutt, etc… 18+ please

(A/N: This is strictly a work of fiction that I came up with off the top of my head. For fictional purposes his S/O & Son are not mentioned. I love him and his little family, though, so no hate intended. This is the first time posting anything on Tumblr, but I couldn’t get it out of my head since my ao3 fic is currently on hiatus because writers block. Feedback is appreciated. unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.)

TAGS: @jml509

The next morning, I was woken up by my screaming niece jumping on top of me over and over again.

"Birrrrrdieeeee, why do you hate me?" I groaned while I pulled her into my chest for a hug, turning over to my side on the couch with her in my arms. "Aunt KyKy! Wake up!" She squealed. "Shhhh, child, let's go back to sleep." I squeezed her close, burying my face into her hair as she continued to protest against me. "You stink!" She squeaked again, scrunching her nose. "No, you stink!" I protested, rolling over to the other side, with my back against the couch. "No!" She screeched again. I promptly shoved her off of the couch and onto the floor. She landed with an "oof," followed by a shrill giggle that made me wince. "Go find your mother, child," I instructed as I threw my legs over the side of the couch to stand up. I made my way towards the bathroom with one hand pressed against the back of my head and the other against the bridge of my nose to suppress the throbbing that had been induced by Justice's high pitched squeal. I could feel the oil seeping from my pores and when I brought my hand from my face to rub my eyes in my sleepy stupor, I felt the black smudge that was at one point my eyeliner smear across my face with my movement as I stumbled down the hallway.

"Well good morning to you, sleeping beauty." A gruff voice spoke as the door to the bathroom opened before I could reach for the knob. Standing before me, in all his glory, was a very almost naked Jeffrey Dean Morgan, clad in nothing but a low slung, barely-there cotton towel.

"Holy shit," I managed to mumble in surprise as my hangover was working its way through my body. "Sorry, love." A breathy chuckle escaped his lips as he moved around me, fist tightly gripping the fabric around his waist. "Mmmhmm" I groaned as he moved past me to allow me access to the bathroom. 'Better have left me hot water' I thought about mumbling as I closed the door behind me.

The shower was fucking fantastic. The sweat, the grime, the headache....all washed off. Using what I could only assume was Dani's razor, I shaved my body soft and followed up by using the expensive body wash that promised glowing skin and the face wash that guaranteed relief of the acne that Im sure would have graced me with its presence if I hadn't applied it as quickly as I did. After rinsing my hair I stepped out of the shower and grabbed another one of the thick towels from the cabinet. After rubbing the towel over my hair for a few moments I wrapped it around my body to make my way out of the bathroom to find where I had drunkenly stashed my backpack containing my clothes. As soon as I left the bathroom and turned the corner, I almost ran smack dab into Jeffrey's now T-shirt clad chest, the only thing stopping me was his hands that reached out instinctively for my hips. "Well hello there, again, darlin'." He smirked with his deep voice. I stood there for a moment, unable to move, before I started stuttering, "Uh-uh-uh... S-s-sorry J-J-Jeffrey," Words had never been my forte to begin with, but this situation just made it even more difficult. "A-hem" I heard from behind the tall man standing in front of me, and I peeked my head around to see Jensen standing in the hallway with my backpack of clothes lifted up in the air by his index finger by one of the straps. "Looking for this?" He questioned sternly. "Uh-uh, Yeah, thanks, bubs." I knew my face had to be 20 shades of red as I stepped out of Jeff's grasp and walked around him to where Jensen was standing. I gripped my back pack from him and ducked into the guest bedroom nearest to me. "What's that on your neck, Ky?" Jensen had followed me into the room. My hand automatically flew to my throat and pressed against the new bruise that had formed from the day before. "Uhhhhh, nothing. I...uh... had a necklace on yesterday that was super tight, I accidentally ripped it off and uh..yeah. ha..." I turned my back to him and quickly started rummaging through my stuff, finding a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt as well as a bra and underwear. "A little privacy, huh, big bro? I'm not a kid anymore." I nervously laughed, looking over my shoulder towards him before looking back to my clothes. "Hmm.... yeah, whatever." was the suspicious reply I got back. I heard his footsteps leave the room, and when I looked back the door had been shut all but a couple inches. I let out a sigh of relief as I let the towel fall from me as I worked at putting on my clothes.

"Jesus Christ, Ky," I heard Rob's voice from the doorway as I pulled my shirt over my head. I spun around quickly and pulled my shirt down as fast as possible, just in time to see Jeffrey walk past Rob in the hallway with a unreadable look on his face as he quickly adverted his eyes from my direction. Rob's eyes were blown wide in surprise that quickly altered to anger. I stepped over to Rob and grabbed his arm, jerking him forward into the room before slamming the door closed loudly. "Fuck, Robbie. What the Hell?" I growled at him. "What the Hell is this?" He growled himself as he spun me around and ripped my shirt up. "He did this?" I could hear the scowl in his voice as I felt his hands trail over the various yellowed and blue bruises adorning the delicate skin of my back and ribs. Me jerking out of his arms was enough of an answer for him. I slowly turned back to face him but kept my eyes pointed at his chest as I wrapped my arms around my self. "God Damnit, Kylin," He whispered angrily as he lifted my chin up with one hand and brought his other to gently ghost over the darkening mark Jensen had mentioned earlier. I turned my head to the left as he examined me, keeping my eyes trained the way my head was facing as the tears began to form again. "Shut up." was the only thing I was able to get choked out before I crumbled in Rob's arms as he drug me to the bed and let me bawl like a baby for a solid 20 minutes.

"Shhhh, Sweetie, It's okay, shhhh." He cooed, rubbing a hand over my hair and kissing the crown on my hair.

I responded with something of a gasp and a hiccup before wailing again, shaking in his embrace. He had sprawled us out over the bed in a cati-cornered angle and had one arm under my head and I couldn't help but feel the safe feeling return after a few more minutes of blubbering, soaking his grey shirt with my tears. Rob gently squeezed me in his arms, careful of my bruises, before pulling back and moving the hair out my face so he could look at me. "Promise me you won't let this happen again, Ky. Please." He breathed, voice broken from restraining tears of his own. "Promise" I sniffled. He looked at me in the eyes again for a moment and let a tear run down his face before nodding and bringing my head back to his chest. We laid like that for a few moments longer while my breathing steadied itself. "Better?" He asked after a while, patting my back and pulling away from me. "Better." I nodded, using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe my face as I sat upright. Rob stood and grabbed my hand and pulled me up, linking our fingers together as he lead me towards the door. I followed him into the dining room where it seemed everyone had already gathered as the morning routine of breakfast preparation had began. Justice lead the Padalecki boys on an assault against my legs, equipped with foam swords, the moment I separated from Robbie and sat down at the kitchen island. "KyKy, will you make us pancakes?" Thomas asked while giving me a set of puppy dog eyes that could rival his father's. Knowing I couldn't deny them anything, the other two small children soon followed suit with the stare. I let a huff of exasperation escape my chest as I hopped down from the stool I had been perched on and made my way past Dani and Gen to the cuppord to collect supplies, ignoring their snickers at how easily I was broken down by the tiny minions.

"Need any help there, darlin'?" A rough drawl came from behind me as I was mixing in the chocolate chips into the batter. Jeffrey stepped up beside me at the counter and peered into the bowl while licking his lips. "No sir," I said cockily, "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's this. I can make these in my sleep." I shook my head in a laugh while stiring the ingredients. I moved from my place beside him to the island where the stove was, checking the temperature of the oil in the pan. When I turned around, Jeffrey was leaning against the counter with his finger in his mouth, batter dripping downt he length of it. "Mmm-mmm-Mmmm" He said, furrowing his brows and shaking his head back and forth. I couldn't help that my breath hitched, or the bright red shade that flushed my skin at the sight. "Hey, Jeff, I think your car's here." Jensen grunted as he entered the room, glaring at me. Jeff pulled his finger from his mouth while he rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the counter. "Alright," He chuckled, grabbing his jacket from the chair it had been resting on and shrugging it on. "See you all later," He waved at everyone, but when his eyes met mine he gave me a slight wink with the sweetest smile before walking out towards the door. With a sigh, I returned my attention to the pancakes.

The day went on, spent with playing with the kids and lounging on the couch with the girls. I had received the phone call I had been wanting from my dad, him telling me he had been able to sneak into the apartment unnoticed, Anthony wasn't home, and had gathered up as much as my stuff as he could. He was about as oblivious to the situation as Jensen was, but not unlike him he did have his suspicions of the abuse as well. Jared and Jensen had been sent to the grocery store with the kids, deemed 'Mission Impossible: Padackles & co' by Gen & Danni, so when the doorbell rang as I was laying on the couch I automatically assumed it had just been the boys needing help getting stuff out of the truck. As soon as I opened the front door, I realized how wrong I was. Anthony's fist came colliding with my face with such speed and force that I flew back like I was in a fight scene on my brother's show. He flung the door the rest of the way open and stalked the four feet into the house to the entrance of the hallway. He grabbed a fist full if my hair, pulling me up as he kneed me in the ribs repeatedly. "Stupid," punch. "Fucking," knee. "Bitch." slap. Suddenly the very distinct sound of a gun being cocked was heard and Anthony finally looked up to see Danneel holding her .9mm at the ready and aiming directly at his head.

"Get out of my house." She seethed with a dangerous glint in her eyes. It was a big enough distraction for Rob and Richard to rush him and bring him to the ground, but neither of the two men stopped there. Richard held Anthony by the throat as Rob clobbered his face repeatedly with his fists as they both had him pinned to the ground with the rest of their bodies. It wasn't until Jensen and Jared busted into the hallway and Jared pulled both men off of him while Jensen took the gun away from Danneel that they finally separated. "Oh look who it is, the whores big brothers, here to save the day." Anthony spat the blood pooling in his mouth onto Jared's shirt as he was hoisted off the floor. Rob and Rich rushed to my Side, Rob picking me up bridal style as Rich stood in front of me, shielding me with his back. I let my hair hang over my face as I clutched to Rob's shirt and sobbed uncontrollably. "Damn straight you pathetic piece of shit. you'll never lay your fucking hands on her again." Gen raged, coming out of the dining room and pushing past everyone. "I'm sorry, you did what?" Jensen pushed Danneel behind him as he re cocked the gun and stepped forward to Jared's side, "I know I didnt hear that right." "The bitch is so stupid, she deserves it. Needs her head bashed in every now and again." Anthony responded darkly, bringing his eyes to where I was shielded by Richard. Jensen brought the barrell of the pistol to rest on his temple.

"Jensen, stop, its not worth it. I'm not worth it," I managed to squeak out between my sobs.

My brother turned his head towards my voice in disbelief. He moved past rich to grab my face in his hands and turn my head to look at him before he spoke, "Don't ever say that again. You are worth so much more than this. Than him." He kissed my hair before turning back around, aiming at Anthony again. "You will get the fuck out of my house, away from my family. You will not go any where near any of them, or you will find out how much my sister means to me and how little your life does," Jensen grabbed Anthony out of Jared's grasp and in one adrenaline-fueled heave, he was sent crashing back through the front entrance. Jensen stormed after him and proceeded to kick the ever living shit out of him all the way to his car. Anthony fell into the driver's seat a bloody mess before speeding off. Jensen rushed back inside in a huff and scooped me from Rob's arms and into his own, soothing my crying with "shhs" and kisses to the top of my head as he carried me into one of the guest rooms. He laid me down on the bed as I continued to bawl before climbing in with me and cradling me in his arms. "I'm so s-s-sor-r-ry, bub-bah" I managed. "No, no, no, sissy, no. I should be the one apologizing. I knew. I knew, I knew and I didn't do anything about it. I should have beat his ass the first time you came down here. Oh, Kylin, I'm so sorry. Kenzie, Josh and Dad are gonna fucking kill me." He breathed through his own tears into my hair as he rocked me back and forth, giving me a gentle squeeze for emphasis. We laid there for a while and sobbed together, him doing his best to comfort me while his own guilt tried to eat him up inside. I let him know I wanted to be alone so he decided that he was going to check on everyone else, and that everyone else would be in periodically to check on me and make sure I was okay. True to his word, about every hour or so someone would open the door and ask if I needed anything until I finally succumbed to my exhaustion and fell asleep.

I was plagued with horrible dreams but my body kept me in my own subconsciousness as a defense mechanism. It wasn't until sometime the next afternoon that someone was finally able to shake me from my screams back into reality. "Shh-shhh-shhh, baby doll. you're okay." A gruff voice soothed from behind me as a hand came to rub my back comfortingly. I whimpered at the unfamiliar touch and jerked slightly away. the hand quickly moved away from me and I felt pressure being applied to the other side if the mattress followed by a deep sigh. It was silent for a while before he finally spoke, "I can't even begin to imagine what's going on in your head right now, and frankly, I dont think I want to." He started, taking a deep breath before continuing, "but I've heard that talking about things, when you're ready, helps more than anything. You've got a great support group here, and I have a feeling that they'll have your back and keep you safe." I replied with a sniffle. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through something this fucked Up, but he'll get what's coming to him, Darlin, be sure if that." he assured, voice gruff and low. Another sniffle. "I've got a flight to catch here soon, but I wanted to come say good bye, and that it was nice to meet ya. Know that if you ever wanna talk, you're more than welcome to steal my number and give me a shout." I felt the sensation of a hand nearing me before retreating back away, like he thought better of it. I felt the release off the bed as he stood up, and his foot steps across the floor to the door. "Thank you," I choked out meekly. A small chuckle floated its way through the room before he spoke the words that would inevitably be my downfall, "Anytime, sweetheart."

#jeffrey dean morgan #jeffrey dean morgan x ofc #jeffrey dean morgan rpf #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #negan thirst squad #john winchester #supernatural rpf #the walking dead rpf #the good wife #watchmen #jdm rpf #Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles rpf

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stimtoybox · 8 years ago

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This is probably something you've answered before, but it's been on my mind recently. I've had this nasty habit of chewing on the insides of my lips until they bleed, biting the skin around my nails, and scratching skin (particularly my scalp). I hadn't even realized it until the spinner trend caught my eye but I saw that other people had the same problem and that things like chewables and stuff can help. (1/3)

I used to carry a stress ball but always ended up tearing them apart cause I would chew it. Though I’ve never been diagnosed with anything I mentioned to a friend in passing that I was thinking about buying something to help. I think the exact words I used were “fidget toy” and basically got yelled at because “they aren’t for people without adhd/autism/etc.” I didn’t even mean it to be disrespectful and I’ve honestly been looking into it since the problem gets bad during school to the point where my mouth bleeds. Would it be disrespectful to purchase one with the intention of stopping the constant harm I put my fingers and mouth through?

Anon, I answer this question at least twice a week. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad about asking. You’re all asking because you need someone, even if that someone is just a random internet stranger, to tell you that your attempt to practice self-care is valid because some ableist arsehole ripped your right to freely access those tools from your hands. And I will try, as best I can, to respond to those asks with something more than just you can stim because I know you’re asking from a place of pain and hurt, and that’s so far from right and acceptable I don’t even.

I’m saying that I answer this question a lot to highlight the problem society has in denying people who need it access to stim toys by shaming them with words like “disrespectful” … all while dropping the name of my diagnosis.

(This autistic, by the way, is going to stop being polite about this: everyone who namedrops my diagnosis while denying someone else the tools that might help them better cope can kindly step barefoot on a Lego brick coated in barbecue sauce. Hell, you can walk barefoot down a hallway covered in sauce-coated Lego bricks! You’re not helping or supporting me. You’re just being an ableist arsehole. If you know any autistics at all, you’d know the vast majority of us are horrified at the thought of denying someone who is hurting themselves access to tools that might ease or stop that. You do not get to mention autism or ADHD in the process of enforcing ableism. No. Shut up and go back to the hell from whence you came. Stop shaming our anons!)

I’m saying that the horrific rate of people who come here afraid that they’re somehow hurting me for taking care of themselves is appalling. I’m saying that I’m becoming more and more suspicious of the real intent behind this. I’m saying this so you understand that the confusion and hurt you’re feeling is sadly normal, that you are not alone in being the target of this gross, disgusting ableism.

Anon. People are telling you that you should be hurting yourself over getting yourself a stim toy. People are telling you that you shouldn’t explore safer ways to function in the world. The degree to which this is ableist, hurtful and cruel is downright mindblowing.

It is not disrespectful, anon, to get yourself a stim toy.

It is absolutely disrespectful (and worse) to tell you that self-injurious behaviours are preferable to using a toy.

Stim, anon. Stim.

I will mention, though, that stress balls really aren’t designed for chewing. It’s easy for pieces to break off, and the chemical composition of the foam probably isn’t safe for being in your mouth, especially not if done regularly. I would very much push you towards exploring chewables and chew pendants (links to tags collecting various posts on this blog). @safechewablethings wrote a list of things to keep in mind when purchasing a chewable, which might also be helpful to you.

I don’t really know enough about your habits to know where to direct you: frequent chewing might indicate a need for a firmer chewable, but stress balls suggest you might like something lighter or springier. Perhaps check out this ask on spongey/airy chews!

In the meantime, you might also like to look at DIY chewables made from braided T-shirts: the simplest require you to only cut up an old T-shirt, braid the strips of cloth and knot the ends. It might give you something on which to chew straight away, which I think you need.

For as a replacement for scratching, you might like to look at a lot of intensive hand-use fidgets. There’s a good list of hand-use fidget toys at the bottom of this ask. This recent ask collects a lot of links about stim toy care, varying stims, where to buy toys, how to make toys and basic starter toys, so that also might be worth checking out. Lastly, if it’s the feel of the scratching, you might find some of our picking and peeling alternatives at the bottom of this post to be a useful replacement, too.

Lastly: anon, consider seeing a doctor, especially if none of the above helps or it takes too long to put in place, but also just because you might need context, support or a diagnosis. Your family doctor/GP/primary care provider can provide you a referral. I can absolutely understand a reluctance to do so, but you deserve to not be bleeding. If you’re bleeding a lot, if this is severely detrimental to your ability to function, you might need a lot more support and care than is the scope of this blog. A professional, too, can help you if teachers take issue to what is, for you, a disability aid: you might need someone with authority in your corner or a diagnosis with which you can silence ableist arseholes. It can be extremely empowering to be able to put a name to the symptoms that make your life difficult, and it might be worth doing for this alone.

But stim, anon. Not only are you more than welcome to explore stim toys to help improve your life, you should.

- Mod K.A.

#ask #anon #text #not a toy #reassurance post #discussion post #ableism discussion #BFRB discussion #self injurious behaviour discussion #long post #very long post #mod K.A.#self care discussion #category: chewing

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meditationsinausterity · 6 years ago

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Self Care on a Shoestring: Skincare

I can't help but be annoyed that the phrase 'self-care' these days means little more than an excuse to instagram yourself in the bath or buy a new nail varnish, when to those actively participating in any kind of therapy it means so much more. It's the endless chronicling of activity to notice patterns, the developing of coping strategies and systems to break them, the non-stop monitoring of behaviours that take you away from or towards your goal. Not to mention reminding yourself to eat, to get fresh air, to spend time around the people that make you feel like you can truly be yourself. Sometimes it's as simple as opening the curtains; sometimes it's as intense as having a conversation with someone about the fact that the social behaviours they expect of you are in direct conflict with your best interests.

Still, it is what it is, and self-care has become tied up very much with the idea of personal grooming, so it's the term I'll go with. I'm not going to deny that there is an element of wellbeing maintenance in taking care of your appearance. i know for a fact that if i get anxious, the way i look is often the first noticeable sign of slippage. And conversely, that sometimes standing under the shower methodically shampooing my hair can feel like the most infinitely head-clearing, mindful experience.

In an appearance-obsessed culture it's a dangerous gambit to propose that you have to look good to feel good, and it's not one I'm prepared to set my stock in as a way to live. For one thing, I don't have any beauty products to sell you when you get the subsequent fear. For another, everybody's mileage varies on what 'best' means, and that is fine. i get bored of adverts telling me I'm not enough, and i don't really want to add to that noise.

I am, however, incredibly vain, or rather, incredibly honest about it. I have been reflecting lately on a lot of my flaws; impatience, stubbornness, etc. and realizing that I'm not much more so than a lot of people I know, i just admit to it openly, but more on that another time. I'm also very interested in fashion, and by extension, beauty. When I have money, I do splurge on products for my appearance, but when I don't, I'm also pretty good at improvising solutions to take time for the beauty rituals that make me feel put together, pretty and stylish, without spending. The beauty industry thrives on the thrill of the new, of the purchase, of the sale, and it's pretty easy to get caught up in that product-lust, and feel all the consumer envy and anxiety that comes with not having enough spending power to participate. My approach to it all is a lot more laid back than it used to be; I focus less on the purchase, more on techniques and ritual that are of benefit and feel relaxing and luxurious.

So I thought I'd talk about how I keep myself feeling and looking on point with fuck all in the bank. And given a discussion with my friend Lou and I had over breakfast the other day in which I announced that I prioritise skincare over makeup because 'I can wash off a drawn on face, I only get one real one', I thought i would start with skincare. I mean, it's the building blocks of anything else you do to your face, and you do it every day, so it's important, right? I'm only going into what I do here, because it's all I'm qualified to talk about, so if you're happy with soap and water, or you want a full ten step k-beauty style regime, go you. But if I can teach anyone how to save a quid or try something they didn't know about in their grooming, then I'm doing what I set out to do.

(I didn't want this to be a product picture heavy post as that goes against what I'm trying to tell you, so I dug out a load of makeup free pictures of myself to illustrate that I have quite a good point when it comes to skincare)

Buying skincare

Okay, I know I said this wasn't about the purchase power angle, but obviously there are certain things you will regularly buy. So this is my hustler's advice to get them for the cheapest you physically can.

The first thing I'll say here is, HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO BRAND LOYALTY. If a beauty brand wants you to ship them, you shouldn't have to pay for your shit. Sure, if you find something you love, and wanna carry on using it, and it's within your means, go ahead, but these products are not essentials, or must haves. They are jars of goo. Mostly very similar ones. Most products that claim to do similar things will, indeed, do very similar things, at radically different price points. I love fragrance and packaging as much as the next person, but they don't make me feel ten times more beautiful, so I'm not paying ten times what I would for them.

On a related note; buying a more expensive product and skimping on application is a fool's errand. Get the cheaper one and use it as it was intended. Active ingredients have a job to do, and if you're not using enough of them, you may as well not be, so buying something that you feel is 'better' because it costs more and then applying it as though it were irreplaceable unicorn tears is a ridiculous waste of your time. Plus, it's not very self-caring to treat your face as if it's only worthy of half measures now, is it? you're gonna need the full whack for proper facial massage and shit anyway. Be realistic.

And back to brand loyalty. Don't be loyal where you shop, either. Everywhere needs your business these days, we're in recession. Anywhere that sells skincare will have countless promos on it, and you can use this to your advantage to stretch your buck as far as possible. I will admit, i do gravitate back to superdrug regularly, because they do court my business in such a way: they almost always have 3 for 2's combined with freebies and great introductory offers, but I also consider: supermarkets, health food stores, ethnic groceries, poundland wholesalers, and the fronts of magazines I'd be buying anyway (or that work out cheaper than buying the product); when I'm looking for what I need. By the same token, I'll warn you off blindly buying at the supermarket. Unless we're talking about the two teutonic loves of my life, Lidl and Aldi, it's not a given that what you chuck in with your fruit and veg will actually be a better bargain than you get elsewhere. Sometimes it really can be (it's worth keeping your eyes peeled for reductions because of packaging changes, for example), but oftentimes they rely on the fact that you are being economical with your time to charge you more for what's probably a pretty basic product.

And lastly; the more you know about your skin, the better you can treat it. When I talk about what I do, I'll be focusing pretty intensely on what works for my skin type, knowledge of which comes from years of having lived with my skin, reading about skincare wherever I can, listening to people who know what they're on about (but not always buying what they were selling), and some trial and error. having some basic knowledge of what active ingredients work for you and what to look for is your ally in avoiding unnecessary spends.

By the same token, if you try something and it doesn't work, give it to a mate. It's better than it sitting on a shelf unloved, and it'll probably make your mate's day, as it's an unexpected little treat. My friends and I have been doing this for years, and it's an excellent way to both give and receive a little mood lift, and make sure nothing goes to waste.

(even as a heavy smoker my skin hasn't aged that much, so there must be method in my madness)

Cleanse

This step is so key. When I slack with it the difference in my skin texture is noticeable almost immediately. This may be because i have savagely oily skin so my pores block up at the drop of a hat, but getting into a proper cleansing routine has drastically improved this. I favour an old school, oil based cleanser and facecloth route, so that I can incorporate facial massage, because I clench my jaw in my sleep and when I'm stressed. I am currently using superdrug's own B. range micellar cleansing oil, but i dot about buying whatever is cheapest or on best offer. I've been known to use coconut oil (that holy grail of versatile beauty products, I've got a cracked lip and am applying it as lipbalm as we speak), or in a pinch, whatever oil is in my kitchen cupboard, the important thing is the technique.

Apply it liberally to your face and neck (I use about a 50p sized amount to start and add more if i've not got significant lubrication). use small upward, circular motions to massage the skin. If you have large pores like me you may actually be able to feel some physical extraction and unclogging of your pores. Gross, but satisfying. I take the time to do some tension relieving massage as well; using my ring fingers i apply pressure in outward streaking strokes along my eye sockets and browbones, then I rest the cups of my palms under my cheekbones firmly, and slowly open my mouth (you'll feel real muscle resistance and then release as you do this - it's amazing for if you grind your teeth in your sleep or when you're stressed). Lastly I use the bent knuckles of my index and ring fingers to firmly work outwards from my chin along my jawbone in small, tight circles (again, if you have any points of tension you'll feel them and be able to concentrate on those areas). These massage techniques are awesome for puffiness in the morning and your facial muscles feel super relaxed after; they are also effective with a foam based facewash if that's your bag.

To take off the cleanser off I soak a lightly textured facecloth or flannel in hot (not too hot, let's not get any broken veins here) water, hold the whole thing over my face for a brief steam and a few deep breaths, then in brisk upward circular strokes, set about removal, focusing on problem areas (for me, my nose and chin). Squeaky clean, and relaxed.

As a footnote, I will say that I can't always be arsed if I've been up late, or I've got better things to do like get laid, I used to rely on facewipes to save the day. I still currently have a pack in my bag for when I stay at he who I shall call the bedfellow's house (I knew I'd cave to a moniker for convenience's sake eventually), but I'll actually vouch that Micellar water and a cotton wool pad is far better value for money per use. not my preferred method, and for me, not sustainable for any lengthy period of time, because my pores suffer, but far better than no cleanse at all.

Tone

I tend to fuck toner off a lot of the time. It's actually not a beauty industry secret that most of them don't do an awful lot, and counter girls the world over, if asked to sacrifice one step of a three-step program, will axe toner without blinking. It's not on your skin for as long as anything else, so it's not as crucial. Its job is to remove any last vestiges of cleanser, and tighten the pores, and you know what else does that? Freezing cold water. I can't remember the last time I bought a commercial toner. If I'm having a particularly breakout-y vibe I'll either buy a bottle of witch hazel, or brew some green tea and have it in the fridge to swipe over my face. but mostly, icy cold water does me beautifully, especially since my face is already wet given my cleansing method.

(unless you count the glitter smeared on me here by a three year old, the no makeup vibe here is strong, I don't think I'd be as confident in my skin if I didn't take care of it)

Moisturise

The most vital step. And the thing you should spend most money on, as it is actually absorbed into your skin. Having said that, I can't remember the last time I spent more than a fiver on one, and the almighty coconut oil can step in here again if needs be (If you take nothing else from this, take the fact that one jar of coconut oil can do everything you need, and it costs 2.99 at Lidl, and considerably less in most Indian and Caribbean groceries). I'm currently using B. for Superdrug's B. radiant day cream (are you feeling that 3 for 2 vibe yet?) but I have a bag of bog standard Boots own fragrance free moisturiser in my bag for bedtimes and mornings when I am not in my bed. I also have a half a tube of Soap and Glory's The Fab Pore on my dressing table, that I use sparingly because it's got some aggressive AHA's (alpha hydroxy acids - they basically kick skin debris in the dick, it's like sandblasting your face), which my skin occasionally needs if I'm suffering dullness, but if I use it regularly I get irrritated skin.

Moisturiser is probably where you most need to look for key active ingredients for your skin type, which is where that basic awareness of your skin comes in. Bear in mind, though, that the industry thrives on the new, so these ingredients will trend and then be superseded by something new in order to sell more shit. There'll always be new breakthroughs because there'll always be more product to sell that way. My age, and my oiliness taken into consideration, I tend to look for vitamin C, anything that says brightening or radiance boosting, and hyaluronic acid, an ingredient that locks water into the skin cells . But as i said, I'll take anything, as long as I can apply it liberally, in upward strokes, and always to the neck as well. never forget your neck.

(Fresh out of the shower and freshly moisturised, I actually often wish I could preserve this glow all day, which is what products that contain hyaluronic acid strive to do)

Additional products

Now, that's enough, really, if kept up regularly. And the routines and techniques performed day and night do feel luxurious, and like you're looking after yourself. You don't necessarily need all the serums, primers, masks, and targeted creams that you're told you do, but they can feel like a nice extra treat for you on a shitty day, and they do get results, so I'll run through what I must regularly indulge in.

Masks.

Oh masks. If you believe Instagram, we've reached peak face mask. There are so many different kinds that there aren't enough weeks in the year to try them all, and still they come. I acquire most of mine through three-for-twos, or as samples. I try and do at least one a week, usually two. One a deep cleansing clay-based one (at the moment i've got Soap and Glory's The Fab Pore, which also has glycolic acid, another great skin-resurfacing enzyme, but I've had that jar since Christmas and it's showing no signs of quitting on me yet), and the other a glycolic peel (B. by superdrug's at the moment). Because of my skin type, constantly clearing surface debris is really good for the condition of my skin, and anything that deep cleanses is always a good shout. I can also be tempted by thermal clay masks in winter, to boost my circulation, I seem to remember the most afforable one I found was by Sanctuary, and not more than a fiver in boots.

If I do not have time or access to such products, however, I do not cry about it. Life goes on, and I doubt anyone really notices but me, it's so much more a ritualistic thing that I do to feel like I am taking time for myself.

Eye Creams.

About the only sign I have of aging bar the odd grey hair is little crinkles around my eyes (I smile a lot). I don't really like them. I also get puffy eyes a lot (it's easy to make me cry, which is not a challenge by the way). I am not fussy about what I use, mine's from Aldi's Lacura range, and cost me about three quid, but kept in the fridge, and patted on when my eyes feel tired or sore, it is the most soothing thing. I can't honestly say if it makes a difference or not, but it feels so good that when I can make it part of my routine I do.

Spot treatments.

Fuck them. a bottle of tea tree oil is much cheaper, does the same thing, and has multiple other uses. Likewise TCP if we're being real here.

So concludes my initial skincare on the cheap outline. I imagine it'll be one of the more in depth pieces I write on self care, because I don't mind admitting that I am pretty lazy in a lot of other areas, and somehow manage to spend even less. I'm a sucker for a good beauty tip, especially a budget one, so I'd be really interested to hear everybody else's.

#personal blog #meditations in austerity #self care on a shoestring #skincare #cleanse #tone #moisturise #skin #beauty #self care

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trigafy · 8 years ago

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Fractionated Coconut Oil Premium Therapeutic Grade 16 Ounce Liquid Carrier Oil For Aromatherapy Relaxing Massage and Diluting Essential Oils With Pump and eBook

Product Description

Includes a lifetime manufacturer's warranty and satisfaction guarantee .

Safe for adults kids baby dogs cats children this large 16oz bottle of base oil starts out as cold pressed coconut oil and is then steam distilled and refined to be a tool for aroma therapy . Used with essential oils in a solution for a diffuser for soothing couples massage increasing the shelf life of valuable organic essential oils moisturizing hair in the shower making soap or simply finding serenity in relieving dry winter hands and skin .

Made from the whole nut of the coconut tree the meat is dried and the essence squeezed into a extra virgin raw oil . Now the oil is exposed to heat and steam to separate the fatty acid chains . The completely saturated chains the MCTs are collected . These are soft to the touch and carry nutrients deep into the layers of the skin like our body did when we were young .

More than just a high quality oil at a low price with an adorable label Invivo Essential is about value quality integrity and caring . We believe in harvesting what nature has made living peacefully on earth and giving back .

You're going to love this oil in a glass roller bottle . Just dilute your favorite essential oil roll it on your skin to allow it to work and store it in your purse so it can travel with you .

Price: $12.99

Includes free pump dilution guide and bonus eBook (arrives as an email attachment) plastic amber bottle protects oil from the UV rays of the sun

Loaded with key vitamins nutrients antioxidants MCT (medium chain triglycerides) Capric and Caprylic acid

100% pure all natural Cocos Nucifera is feather light kidsafe odorless clear won't stain sheets or clog pores

Great gentle plant based moisturizer for hair face and nail growth with emollient properties that are the best for sensitive skin

Can be used for DIY beauty recipes Ayurvedic medicine as a sexual lubricant oil pulling for teeth and mouth care filling roller ball bottles homemade hot oil treatment healing stretch marks and more

Product Description One Year Warranty Do you still worry about your oily T-zone, black heads and dead skin? Now SKINFUN Facial Cleansing Brush (FDA Certified)is born to make your facial cleansing routine to a new level. It can deeply cleanse your pore and effectively exfoliate to reveal a radiant, youthful skin,much better than cleansing with two hands alone. Why choose SKINFUN Facial Brush, not others? 1. IPX7 Grade Waterproof 2. Stylish designed handle stand: to dry the brush after using and make your desk neat. 3. Optimal brush bristles: cleansing without causing red spots and irritation. 4. Exclusive High-Tech: to foam facial cleanser quickly and evenly. 5. 3 speeds for all types of skin. Do you still upset about much time wasting on facial brush operation? This is a time-saving facial brush. The whole face cleaning process can be easily completed only within 3mins. Do you have to give up skin care when in travel? Portable SKINFUN Face Brush is convenient for you to enjoy the simple and comfortable SPA experience even in travel due to its light weight and compact size. What surprise SKINFUN face brush can bring to you? Make overall skin tone improved and collagen production by moisturizing your face better, minimizing pore and reducing the appearance of acne scars. It is strongly recommended by cosmetologist and dermatologist. Most Complete Interchangeable Brush Attachments: 1 Body Brush 1 Facial Brush 1 Face Sponge 1 Massage Ball 1 Pumice Note:4 AA batteries are required(but not included).

Price: $3.00

Rotating 360°Clockwise & Anti-clockwise: Improve the skin circulation effectively and fade away fine lines and wrinkles.

3 Rotating Speeds (Traditional ≤ 2 Speeds): Make it suitable for different types of facial skin. Low speed for delicate sensitive skin, medium for normal and high for abrasive skin.

IPX7 Waterproof Facial Brush: Handheld cordless awesome water resistant to allow using in shower and rubberized silicone(ABS+TPR) hand grip to avoid slipping.

Intelligent Circuit Protection System: The unit will stop automatically when brush rotation is blocked unexpectedly and resume to work once the block is removed, which is good to extend its life span.

4 AA Batteries (Traditional ≤ 2 AA Batteries) with Great Power : Rotating more powerfully for up to 3 hours even in the highest speed so that black heads and flaky skin can be exfoliated thoroughly.

What To Expect When Starting Testosterone Replacement Therapy

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Please SHARE, LIKE, COMMENT, and even FAVORITE THIS VIDEO if you found it useful or if you know somebody who it may benefit. Thank you.

My Story

My name is Noah and on May 18 2011, I had a rare reaction to a vaccine called VIVITROL and consequently spiraled into a major, agitated, suicidal depression with depersonalization. I lost 25 lbs in 4 weeks and was in full panic or near panic for 8 weeks straight mixed with the darkest most painful depression I cold have ever imagined. I immediately could not work and had to move in with my parents who along with many siblings and friends had to watch me 24/7 as I was so suicidal. I was eventually hospitalized. Getting through each day seemed truly unbearable and I knew I would surely die. I have been put on many many different SSRI’s SNRI’s Tricyclics, Mood stabilizers, anti psychotics, holistic meds, acupuncture and even a form of shock therapy called RTMS. I barely saw any improvement in my condition for a full year. It was decided I had treatment resistant depression and I spent nearly every moment in tears. Weeks after starting my newest round of medications (Seroquel & Nortryptaline) as a last ditch effort, I had my blood drawn for possible hormone imbalances and my Testosterone levels came back 200 ng/Dl and 150 ng/Dl. The average 25 year old male has 750 ng/Dl. With this discovery I for the first time had any type of possible explanation as to why I was not getting better and why I might be so so sick. The symptoms of such Low T are very similar to those of major depression. I started Testosterone replacement therapy soon after and have been checking in with the world and documenting my experience with treatment as well as giving my insight and perspective on various topics of mental health. I am blessed to say that I have slowly, over the last year and 4 months, been improving and becoming more stable which I never thought to be possible. My low T manifested itself in the form of Major depression, anxiety, and depersonalization/ derealization for over a year. Gaining some mental stability back is nothing short of a miracle as I was near death for what felt like forever. I do not consider myself to be totally healed yet but I am closer now then ever before and aim to use what I have been through to help or at least offer support to others in need.

I was able to successfully come off my Seroquel and Pamelor.

I work out all the time as a part of my mental health recovery!!! Weight training and all kinds of cardio rule much of my free time!

The age of men and testosterone level are inversely proportional. As the men grow older, the testosterone level drops down. The fact that testosterone level in your body is dropping down might not be as worrying because it is a natural process. It can happen due to the growing age or sometimes due to some kind of sickness. The thing that matters is that the testosterones are responsible for many bodily functions.

When their level in the body decreases, it can have a very strong impact on a person’s lifestyle. People with low testosterone levels can face problems like irritability, low energy levels, low libido, etc. So if you are suffering from this, then it becomes important for you to get the low T treatment.

The signs caused due to the low testosterone levels are usual for a few other ailments. Consequently, a specialist needs to totally analyze you in the past low T treatment is encouraged for you. The examination of an expert doctor is essential, because if you take the treatment without the insufficiency, you might be exposing yourself to risk of unneeded outside bodily hormone treatment. When you are particular that you choose the therapy, you are able to pick from countless readily available approaches of inexpensive testosterone solution.

There are various kinds of hormonal substitute treatments obtainable for reasonable testosterone degree. There are different medications offered for the treatment. These medications are mainly in the form of gels and patches. When the therapy starts, the testosterone levels in your body will definitely start to rise once more, and also you will steadily begin to bounce back from all the manifestations, which you have been dealing with.

Once you are certain that you want the treatment, you can choose from many available methods of low testosterone treatment. There are different types of hormonal replacement therapies available for low testosterone level. There are various drugs available for the treatment. These drugs are mostly in the form of gels and patches. Once the treatment starts, the testosterone levels in your body will start to rise again, and you will gradually start to recover from all the symptoms, which you have been suffering from.

Are you looking for treatment for low testosterone information? Always look for some reliable resource for male hormone replacement

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