#ive finally lost my mf MIND

[nqify]

can you do thigh riding hcs?!?!?! it's been on my mind all day literally I need it so bad!!! I love your miles stories/fics! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

YEYSYEYS!!! I LOVE!!! a lot of people also asked for this!! so I’ll be combining everyone’s requests here!!

thigh riding. — miles quaritch ☆

pairing. na’vi!miles quaritch. fem!reader

content warning. daddy kink. lil choking. edging. lots of dirty talk. overstimulation.

note. kitty has BIG thighs for sure!!! like daddy I’m begging u PLS just be real

Okay so this could go two ways!! this MF loves you ofc, cherishes you and everything but!! I feel like thigh riding can either be for he’s too busy and can’t get pleasure u rn or he’s punishing your ass. There is no in between

let’s just say your sitting on miles’ lap while he’s doing his work in his office. Your thighs spread around his and your arms wrapped around his neck, giving him little pecks. you grind your clothed pussy on his bulge, causing some friction.

“mama, cmon behave for me” he’d tap ur butt. you’d just whine. like daddy pls!!! you’d start to kiss along his jaw to his cheeks, “baby, you know we can’t do this now, I’ve got work to do” still kissing him you say, “pls mwah ive mwah been so mwah good!!!” he thinks ur so cute omg

he chuckles at you and pulls you away, finally making eye contact with you. he grabs you by your chin, “this work is very important to me right now, so can you sit on my lap and look pretty while I finish this?? then we can play for as long as you want baby” but that wasn’t enough. You need him now. you need release now!!

you grind on him again, “daddy!!! but I’ve been such a good girl today!! I’ve done everything you’ve asked!! pretty pls” you pout ur lips and flutter ur eyelashes. AWW HE LOVES U!!!! he shakes his head, “tsk, baby, you know I can’t say no to you”

“but I still need this work done, so ride my thigh mama” girl HUH??? u froze, you’ve never done this before at all!! “what ma?? too scared” he teased. he pulls your body onto his left thigh, flexing it a bit. “here mama, you know how to love to grind on my dick, it’s like that but on my thigh. you can do that right baby??” you nod your head. “but what about u??”

omg he’s so INLOVE with you!!! the fact that you care about him getting off too!!! “aww baby aren’t u the sweetest thing, don’t worry about me mama, I’ll be just fine watching you get off” GIRLLLL!!!

you slowly start to grind on his thigh, rubbing ur poor pussy against it. miles doesn’t acknowledge you at all and u hated that. like daddy come help me out pls?? he’d just be doing his work while you would try to get off on his thigh.

more pleasure rose from your heat, your pussy getting wetter by the minute. He could feel his thigh become damp. LORD he’s trying so hard to focus rn. he’d take a little peek now and then to see your beautiful body and my god he loves it.

“mmm!! d-daddy, feels so good” this fucker is not focusing on his work anymore. He’s now leaning back on his chair, one arm hooked around ur waist while the other is slowly rubbing your clit. “yeah baby, u like that?? u like daddy’s thigh huh?? yeah u do. look at ur pretty pussy getting off to it”.

he is loving the sight. You getting lost in ur own pleasure, ur hands grabbing his thighs for support and ur head rolled back. “a-ah!! m-milesmmm!!! so close” he’s into now omg. “already mama??? fuck ur so hot, letting daddy take u like this. s-shit gimme a kiss” you lean into him and kiss him. tongue dancings together.

“u gonna cum baby?? my good girl gonna cum for daddy?? all over his thigh right? yeah that’s my pretty slut” GIRLFIRL you’d grind faster, chasing your release. “p-please!! talk to me more daddy”

ohmygod now he is going feral, “yeah baby?? you like my voice huh? Gets you off now doesn’t it?? such a fucking slut mmm” and if u thought that wasn’t going to make u cum, “cmon mama, wanna see ur pretty pussy cum on me, need it bad, s-shit can feel u clenching baby, u like that huh???” and BOOM u came!!!

now this fucker will take thigh fucking to the next level!!!! see if ur a brat…girl u better run. he will edge u over and over again on his thigh. Like not even on his dick or tongue.

you’d be facing him, his hand on ur neck while his other was on ur hip. you’d be a sobbing mess, tears coming from ur eyes down to ur cheeks!!! lips all pouty and pink omg!!!HE LOVES THIS SIGHT

but bc u were being such a brat he’d can’t show that he likes it, he just looks mad. “awww baby r u close?? you know u can’t cum until daddy says so, and u want to make daddy happy again right??” Ur nodding ur head, grinding on his thigh.

“d-daddy please!!” u cry out. “nah uh mama, your not getting away with what u did that easy. just keep grinding on daddy’s thigh, be a good girl for me” HIS WORDS HIS VOICE SO DEEP!!! the way he speaks to you makes u WETT like girl.

he can clearly see when ur about to cum or not, when u r he’d pull ur whole body up and you’d cry!!! he’s denied you so many times now omg.

“you wanna cum so bad don’t you mama? you wanna cum for daddy right? yeah I know u do, cuz ur such a slut huh? just needa cum all the time dont you?” okay girl u crying rn. But you couldn’t hold it in this time, your release ur juices on his thighs. u r in big trouble now.

”can’t even listen to a single thing i say. I asked for one thing mama, fucking slut”. oh MYGOD “you wanna cum mama?? yeah go ahead cum again” u look at him confused. “w-what?” “You heard me slut” you go back to grinding on him and feel urself getting close

“cmon baby, cum for me” and u did. Why is this fucker LAUGHING??? “aww u thought it was that easy didnt you?? u think u can just cum all you want, uh uh baby, since u wanna disobey daddy ur gonna cum over and over again until ur fucking brain dead” OHSJIT!!

this MF is overstimulating you now. you’d cum so many times that all u would see were stars. He is loving it.

you’d be a babbling mess, trying to form words, “m-miles aaahhhshn f-fuck p-pleaseahh too muchmmmm!!” omg he thinks this is the hottest you’ve ever looked, so fucked out and just for him. “just one more baby, you can cum one more time right?? yeah I know u can, daddy wants to see u cum cmon mama” GIRL!!!

you’d release all over him one last time, he’d kiss your forehead, “you gonna listen to me now right baby?” You nod ur head, “that’s my good girl” he’d pull you to the bedroom, giving u lots of kissing and rubbing your thighs with his thumbs.

lord this man loves you. even though ur the biggest brat he knows he still loves u!! “love u so much mama, u did so well for me, good girl” you’d smile at him, “only for you daddy” HE SMILING, “atta girl”

[srlkiller]

ive realised that my self esteem & just general ‘sense of self’/love for myself is so awful & low.. horribly dependant & reliant on something or someONE else these days & i absolutely fucking loathe myself for ittttttt bc im beyond self aware.. yet ive jus never been loved my entire life by even my own parents to be shown that im worth a singular fuck so the bar is so low for humans… i seemingly will jus allow the fucking worst bc i guess subconsciously that’s what ive always been taught/shown/drilled into me by my parents to believe that i deserve? wen i know it’s not at all bc literally NO ONE deserves to be treated like shit by another human being. i have trouble saying the words no to other people. i have a lot of trouble just standing up for myself these days.. especially the lonelier i get, the more isolated i have become & older ive gotten. i found comfort in being alone & definitely got to know myself sm better.. then i went thru horrible shit all over again & lost myself completely.. all over again.. & haven’t been able to rebuild myself back up since then.. ive only gone downhill.. over & over & over. i know that I AM the only one that inevitably can help myself & save myself.. i have to do the work & put in the effort etc etc but it’s so hard with absolutely ZERRROOO support system of any kind & feeling like you have nothing & no one.. not one family member.. not one pet.. nothing at all anymore. everything has been ripped from me, taken by force or by death itself. I’ve been broken sm times but now that ive finally been able to let someone in again on some kind of romantic level.. im terrified.. so im letting them jus walk all over me which is the total opposite of who I am & everything i stand for, emulate as a woman & my whole fucking energy as a being. i don’t recognise myself at all so ive totally seperated myself from whoever this is.. the body, the mind.. the soul. i numb every feeling n thought i can.. whenever i can. but wow just having this huge surgery & putting my body under such duress & jeopardy was lowkey such a wake up call bc wtf?! IVE NEVER DONE NO SHIT LIKE FHIS BEFORE FOR ANYONE ELSE?!?! AND FOR WHAATTTT?!?! HE HAD THE PERF OPPORTUNITY TO DO EVERYTHING FHE RIGHT WAY N STILL FUXKED IT UP TO SATISFY HIS OWN SELFISH NEEDS.. so wtf am i doing? what am i doing risking myself for someone like that… i look stupid, feel stupid.. & could get left at any minute which would send me spiraling for someone who is quite frankly… not even close to what i need in a man or what ive ever wanted. im simply cheating myself out of a great self help story.. as i turn 29.. i reach my last year if my 20’s & I’ll b damned if i waste that shit on some young dumb n full of cum mf who doesn’t even give a fuck ab my health in any capacity who is probably lying n doing god knows what behind my back anyway… I seriously just need to put myself first.. just try.. I need to try. bc remember when I did? how proud I was? how it worked? it’s always worked. time to start writing goals n writing shit down again.. as we start approaching this date n it gets closer n closer.. on the 25/11/23 I’ll be 29 yall. it’s the 13/11/23 today. 11 days to get things in order. my goals don’t even need to be big I jus need to get things ‘in order’… ‘ready for 29’ sounds like a cool lil title.. as my bday is pretty much leading into the New Year anyway it’d b cool to get a lil head start on others too. like the needles into my head for alopecia which I have an appt for jus before my bday.. lashes n brows I have that appt for.. i needa get my actual hair done somehow.. before nye!! change my piercings to cold & possibly get another?! more tattoos!! coverup of the Drake matching one for sure. Look into studying pharmacology or some other career pathway course.. possibly something with units I’ve completed already at uni?? i need to write a list.. basically is what I’m saying as some things are more easy fix small goals that are appearance self care based, some are medium level, some are mental, some are spiritual, some are academic, some will take

[obutsuwrites]

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. 

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. 

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.  

[miyagihawk]

“idfc; blackbear (again it’s so easily related to hawk vibes, maybe he’s afraid to open up again for a relationship after moon so he acts like he doesn’t care about the reader but the mfs actually so in love😩✋🏻)” - @hawkwhore

ugh i love this sm and blackbear 😛 ty for the request as always <3

idfc | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

warnings: just cursing?

summary: based on idfc by blackbear :) hawk doesn’t like you and you don’t know why

a/n: soooo i kinda strayed from the song LOL sorry but this is kinda more cutesy and less angsty than the song. i actually like it though :)

You don’t know why he seemed to hate you.

Ever since you walked into the dojo for the first time, it was like you couldn’t escape his death stare.

Eventually, you got closer to Miguel, his best friend, so you two started going to the same parties and hanging out more often. But he never seemed to warm up to you.

Miguel said Hawk was just intimidated by you because you always beat him when Sensei calls you both to spar. So you let him win one time, but he seemed to hate you even more after.

Which is why you started Operation Get Hawk To Like Me.

It seemed like a fun challenge to get the broody boy to enjoy your company, but you also sincerely wanted to be friends with him. When he would laugh with Miguel and he smiled like the sun, it made you sad that he was so cold towards you but so warm towards others. You wanted the sun.

You decided that the first part of O.G.H.T.L.M was to subtlety be nicer; you didn’t want to be desperately kind out of nowhere and make him dislike you even more.

“Hey!” you called after the red haired boy who was about to open the door to the dojo.

Hawk turned around slowly at the sound of your voice, and you winced at the annoyed look on his face.

“I- uh, I got this for you,” you held out a blueberry smoothie. When everyone hung out at Golf N Stuff, you saw that he got that flavor and took a mental note.

The boy stood in front of you with a twisted face, not reaching out to take the drink. “Why?” he asked.

You shifted awkwardly, feeling nervous under his stare. Was this too forward? “Um... I accidentally got an extra one?” you made the excuse lamely. “Just take it.”

“Give it to Miguel,” Hawk turned around and sauntered into the dojo, leaving you with a frown. But you wiped off any trace of your disappointed expression and walked into practice too.

-

You tried everything.

You waved at him every time you passed each other in the halls. You got him drinks at parties and you even offered to be the designated driver so that he could get wasted with Miguel.

When you two sparred, you lost on purpose each time. Sensei even pulled you aside to ask if something was wrong. “Hawk is getting better,” was all you said, but he didn’t seem convinced.

The list of things you were trying to do for Operation Get Hawk To Like Me seemed endless and you were totally kissing his ass. His feelings about you weren’t budging, and it seemed like this was just a hopeless mission.

“I just don’t get why he hates me so much. I’m trying so hard,” you groaned.

“Maybe that’s why. You’re trying too hard,” Miguel said across from you with a mouthful of fries.

“Well I don’t know what to do then. I want him to know I’m trying.”

“He knows,” your best friend nodded his head nonchalantly.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, causing Miguel to give you an amused look. “Then why doesn’t he care? I’m starting to think there’s just something wrong with me,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“You should just talk to him if it’s bothering you so much,” Miguel shrugged.

“I guess I should,” you slumped, feeling intimidated by the thought of confronting Hawk. Was it even worth it? If he didn’t want to be your friend now, then what would change if you talked to him? If he would even agree to talk.

-

Tonight. The final step that would determine if you were going to give up on Hawk.

The truth is, it really hurt your feelings how little he cared about you. And it hurt even more when you went out of your way to get him to even acknowledge you as an acquaintance.

You don’t know why it affected you so badly; maybe you’ve always had a teensy crush on him. And maybe this little plan you formulated was actually motivated by your subconscious desire to really get to know him, even though you passed it off as wanting to simply be his friend.

So tonight, at the party you were all going to, you were going to talk to him. And get the truth on why he was so persistent in shoving you away.

“Woah, slow down Y/N. Miss lightweight,” Miguel eyed you cautiously when you downed another cup of beer.

“I just need some liquid courage to face Hawk,” you licked your lips, already feeling the effect of the alcohol clouding your mind. You started to sway without noticing, making Miguel laugh at you amusingly.

“Well good luck with that. But that’s enough, or you won’t even get any words out,” he took the cup from you and you pouted. Miguel subtly motioned behind you, and you turned around to look.

It was the red haired boy you’ve been avoiding all night; the one who made your palms sweat when you thought about the conversation you were planning to have.

But with the alcohol giving you a rush of confidence, you walked up to him with no anxiety. His eyes widened when he saw you rushing forward, and he almost looked afraid.

“Can I talk to you?” you said solidly, feeling braver than you usually are. Hawk looked at you, confused, but nodded to his friends before following you to go somewhere quieter.

He traced behind you as you opened the door to go outside, where there were less people and the music wasn’t so loud.

“Um... is something wrong?” Hawk stood awkwardly in front of you, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Of course there’s something wrong,” you replied in a meaner tone than you intended, but you brushed off the guilt.

“Well what is it?” he asked in his usual annoyed tone that he used only when he needed to speak to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up with frustration. “Why don’t you like me?” you blurted out, and the expression on his face told you that he wasn’t prepared for it at all.

“W-What?” Hawk stuttered, his previously composed persona was gone.

“Why don’t you like me?” you repeated, more forcefully. “I am so nice to you. But you just hate me and I have no idea why! And you’re just best buds with everyone else, so I know you aren’t incapable of having friends. Do you know how shitty that feels? Especially when I try so hard to just get you to treat me decently!” your mouth ran on and on and words were coming out without you thinking.

Your blurred vision from your anger cleared after you caught your breath, and you focused on his shocked expression. It was the most expression he’s ever shown you.

“I-I-” Hawk stammered, but you cut him off.

“Look, I’ll leave you alone if you just tell me to. But tell me why, so I can give up. I’m sorry, okay? For whatever I’ve done that makes you not even want to be near me. And I don’t even know why I feel like I need you to like me, I just-”

This time he was the one to interrupt you. “I do like you.”

You blinked in confusion, taken aback by his words.

Hawk licked his lips anxiously, taking a breath in before speaking, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a dick. The truth is... I’ve been... um... catching feelings for you. And I guess I was trying to protect myself by pushing you away.”

Your mouth dropped open at his confession. Out of all the responses you were expecting when you were overthinking about the conversation, this one was one you could have never seen coming. But surprisingly, it made your stomach turn and your heartbeat accelerate.

He continued, this time looking into your eyes with his blue ones. “I don’t hate you at all. I just... I just felt like last time I caught feelings for someone I just got hurt. And I was all in, but they weren’t. That’s why I keep myself from getting close to you. I’m sorry Y/N,” Hawk confessed his whole heart, leaving you speechless.

After barely getting a few words out of him everyday, his confession of feelings was overwhelming. But you finally understood him. You knew about his relationship with Moon and how it went down from all the school gossip, but for some reason you never pieced together that it was why his guard was up so high.

“I don’t really know what to say,” you admitted, still feeling woozy from both the alcohol and his speech. You weren’t sure about your feelings and you didn’t want to say something you didn’t mean. Yes, you had feelings for him too, but everything was going so fast.

Hawk gave you a smile that calmed you from your worry. “It’s okay, sorry. It was a lot. But if you still want we can be friends.” He reached out his hand for you to shake and confirm your partnership.

Instead of taking it, you took him by surprise by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He melted into the hug after a few seconds, and you smiled from behind his view. “Friends,” you pulled away and he beamed at you warmly.

You finally got the sun.

a/n: omg bye this was not like the song at all SORRY there wasn’t that much action it was just fluffy IVE BEEN WATCHING TOO MUCH MIRACULOUS LADYBUG like they r so soft and u can see the influence of it on my writing lmaoo anyways hope u enjoyed!! :)

[haoies]

okay i dont mind solangelo in fact i think the pairing is super aesthetically pleasing im a sucker for good contrasting looks,,,but like the fanon solangelo. there is so much that we need to criticize about canon!!! will really only exists to give nico a boyfriend????? mans rlly put the disabled boy with a healer,,,, nico had a romantic relationship and suddenly its like all his trauma has healed,,,i think toa was like six months after the battle agains gaea right? AND ALL OF A SUDDEN NICOS TOTALLY COMFORTABLE AT CAMP AND FRIENDS WITH ALL OF THE APOLLO CABIN AND HAS A DEVELOPED RELATIONSHIP WITH WILL and like yea ive heard that he has therapy sessions with mr d but like,,

boy was thrust into a new world and immediately lost his only family at age 10, ran away and was homeless living between the labyrinth and underworld for a while (and both of those places are known for driving people insane) and then he bounces back and forth between the mortal world and the underworld where his father is emotionally manipulative and abusive until he fights in his first war at age 12 get continually treated like shit and isnt trusted by anyone despite the fact that he truly wants to help. then he knows another war is coming and he’s probably barely even 14 so he goes looking for the doors of death alone in TARTARUS and gets KIDNAPPED and kept in a JAR while his “”friends”” debate if they should even bother saving him???? if it wasn’t for hazel being like “THATS MY MF BROTHER” and piper realizing he’s important to the quest they 100% would have left him there AND THEN HE HAS TO WATCH HIS RELUCTANT CRUSH AND SAID CRUSH’S GF FALL INTO TARTARUS AND HE HAS TO LEAD THE OTHERS TO THE DOORS OF DEATH DESPITE THE FACT THAT THEY DONT TRUST HIM and then what happens oh yeah HE GETS VIOLENTLY OUTTED IN FRONT OF JASON while he’s still dealing with intense internalized homophobia????? and then after the doors of death are finally closed, despite the fact that nico is incredibly weak and malnourished from being homeless and then being kidnapped, he has to use his powers to transport a giant fucking statue and two other people across the globe by himself???? while everyone knows that using his powers drains him further????? and they’re constant attacked on the way and he gets mauled by a werewolf and when he arrives and he’s immediately thrust into battle again?????? GETTING A BOYFRIEND DOESNT FIX THAT

[dailykatrina]

PART I

The primary purpose of this blog was to publish the picture of my friend Elīna wearing a red beret. First time we interacted was at our coursmates movie night at his place far away in 2010. We didn’t like each other first. I don’t remember how exactly we became friends (as I don’t remember what was the movie we watched that night. Was it a film by Coen brothers? Or something from Clint Eastwood?). Nevertheless, something more important became evident soon after - we were about to embark on a journey of imagination together and enhance the everyday in such ways that no object would be left as ordinary. 

PART II

This blog became abandoned. It is true. I moved to France in 2016 and it took me about 3 years to fully settle. I’ve traveled a lot during this time as well. There was a lot happening and a lot of effort was put into learning new language, taking care of seemingly never-ending bureaucratic procedures and money earning activities. I didn’t post much during that time and there’s another reason for that. I’ve got a 35mm vintage Canon camera and it didn’t feel right to mix those well framed shots with random everydayness from my phone camera on the same platform. 

I’ve posted some photo series on flickr. There’s only two (or three) that I personally find succesfull and feel the importance of. 

PART III

I went to a film and photo developement workshop as a present for my 29th birthday. It’s been a dream coming true. I knew that I want to experiment with developement and to be more in charge of how sensitive my photography is. However, I continued to develop at an external film lab. My Paris apartment was too small to welcome a darkroom.

PART IV

I got my first real* camera when I was 16 or 17. It was a digital Canon EOS 400. I can still summon the feelings of pride about the marketing speech I gave to my father (in order for him to sponsor this lavish desire). I loved taking black and white and low iso pictures with that camera and a few years later I even expanded my lens collection. However, I loved shooting with the basic 18-55mm lens the most. As much as I almost always shoot on Program with my vintage Canon still today. 

I had a blog on Blogspot. It was called '1000 airplanes on the roof'. That blog was important. I erased it. I even erased the archive of the images I had on my computer from that time. But it was important and there are images I can still recall in my memory that don’t exist in any other realm anymore. JV was following that blog. He asked me to have one of the pictures in full size and I shared it with him. It’s the only picture left from that blog that has a materiality today. 

*I had a point and shoot sony pocket camera before, but my mother lost it a year after I got it. 

PART V

I’ve started using instagram when I moved to France as a way to communicate with my friends. A place for everyday randomness and stunning French landscapes. I love taking pictures with my phone. I am not a farmer of a photography who willfully cultivates and constructs his images. I am a hunter. Or rather, outside of these binaries, I'm just perceptive and sensitive towards objects/elements existing outside of me and them falling into certain ‘images’ that pierce me. I feel like things are cinematographic. And I love to archive things. You know by now that I can be manic and a compulsive eraser, having an inner fight between a desire to share and a desire to keep to myself. Not that there ever was an ambition - even after years of (intermittently occasional but ever-present) shooting, I still considered painting as my primary artistic interest. Painting would be the one I would give my time to. Not photography. 

PART VI 

I am not a painter today. I even developed a fear of a brush. It makes me feel anxious. My last painting teacher criticized my way of being too detail oriented (lack of confidence) and I was vulnerable to that. It made me cry. I am hoping to come back to it one day but for now I need more time for the expression to ripen. 

Things happened photography wise, things that I've already mentioned and some other things that I haven't. I got a Ricoh pocket camera (my digital Canon died of being unused a long time ago already). I realized that I lack literacy, awareness and vocabulary about my own pictorial expressions. I realized that most of my photography is not well served by the small digital format (thanks JV!). I realized that I don’t want my pictures (don’t mind about the phone pictures but not the 135 and MF) to be a scroll through in the middle of the instagram garbage and adds (thanks SF!). I realized that I want the images I capture to be tangible (Thanks to both JV and SF). 

PART VII

It took time to understand what kind of enlarger woud fit my needs best. I didn’t think I’ll get there on my own. But like with everything - persistence and diligence are likely to take you anywhere you want to get to. 

The everyday is important and I am still trying to capture it. Elīna is not here with me but our friendship is a shared book where we both keep writing our experiences. It might not have an immediate visuality. But we'll talk about it and make it alive once we're together. Life continues to be beautiful and ugly and final in both of these expressions as always. I snap this and that and post it here and there. The medium for that is inconstant. 

Sometimes I get into the habit of sharing 

and sometimes 

I get out of it. 

But this place, 

for now 

it’s a place 

of memories 

of an era. 

[sargentr]

my fave drarry fics of all time, part one

so, after discovering i’ve officially been reading drarry fanfic for 4 years now, i decided to show my (quite big) list of favorite drarry fics. there are 46 in total, but i’ve listed 10 down below. the first three are my absolute favorites but the rest are equally as good

most of my notes are fresh from when i wrote them post-reading. i’ve changed some, seeming less like a crazy unstable bitch, but fuck these were all emotional as fuck. enjoy

ps: i dont really know how to tag people i dont follow. i cant try and tag the authors later. soz!!

pps: most of these i read when i was really into a bottom!draco phase, so most of them contain that, some are switch tho (as it should be, yikes past me)

1. Everything That Happen is From Now On / ~43K 

After surviving a brutal assault, Draco tries to navigate the tumultuous waters of his mind, and embrace a bit of love and trust in his life. After all, the smallest steps forward can begin to heal the most fractured of souls

okay so before i get in to how beautiful this story is, i wanna say that it does touch on rape quite explicitly. i cried like an idiot reading the entire thing, because draco’s pain is navigated in the most beautiful and realistic way. it touches on a subject very risky for me, very personal, and i still can’t think of a better drarry story. draco’s very draco about it all, and harry is very harry about it all. it’s just perfect, and messy, and tender, and sad. i’ve reread it more than any other fic, and it doesn’t disappoint. 

2. Pocket Full of Starlight / ~46K

When Scorpius Malfoy and Jamie Potter meet at Quidditch camp, they take an instant dislike to each other. Then they discover their lives are more connected than they could possibly imagine.

ah yes. the magic of kid fics. the TASTE

parent trap au. i read this one recently, like 3 months back, and absolutely fell in love with everything about it, partially because the parent trap is legit one of my top 10 favorite movies of all time. its just. the essence, the IDEA, is soooo mf beautiful. i cant get enough of reading when harry or draco finally meet the other twin, or how they cant stop loving each other even after 11 years. my heart clenched throughout the whole thing. 

3. Temptations on the Warfront / ~180K

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes. 

this was the first drarry fic ive ever read, and before this mf i HATEDDD this pairing. so you can imagine how much it took to convince me otherwise, bc i was 100% scorbus before this.

to be fair, horcrux hunting with draco involved is, possibly, my favorite trope ever. its unique. theres tension, both sexual and life threatening. in some ways it romanticizes the war, but fuck it it aint a real war. 

slowest of burns. amazing. life changing. long as hell. nothing else to be said except read it right now i demand it.

4. Clouding the Senses / ~58K

As everyone returns to Hogwarts for a final eighth year, some people are coping better with the aftermath of the war than others. After encountering a very drunk Draco Malfoy one night, Harry realises that maybe those that lost loved ones aren’t the only ones trying to escape the war. Blaise Zabini seems to think Harry can help Malfoy, that the Slytherin might actually listen to him. Harry is not so sure. Dependence is a tricky thing, and one addiction can quickly shift to another.

everyone that reads drarry loves 8th year fics, but this ones just kinda different from all those normal (yet entertaining) ones. draco’s an alcoholic in this, and one night harry tries to help him and whoops, one thing leads to the other and they start having casual sex. its really, really amazing how both draco and harry navigate the addiction, i really cant say it has any flaws. 

i know the author got a lot of hate on their fics and thats why they took them down, but they’re truly one of the best drarry authors out there. i’ve reread this a couple of times, and the tenderness, the love and confusion is all very on character. a+

5. Restraint / ~153K

Someone casts the Imperius curse on Draco Malfoy, and whatever the instructions may be, Harry finds himself an unwilling target. The encounter leaves him torn between pleasure and revulsion. As they fight in the aftermath, a tense game begins. Harry fights to convince Malfoy, and himself, that he was not affected by that initial encounter, or any of those following it.

Faced with a series of escalating encounters, Harry must come to terms with desiring things he never thought he could, things he wishes he didn’t respond to. They each use signs of arousal as weapons against each other in a mad struggle to finally shame the other into backing down for good. 

But it’s only after the game is over that Harry starts to understand.

this is by the same author of clouding the senses, and i read this just this week. at first, it’s shocking, because it plays around with consent in a very unsettling way. when communication comes in, and its starts getting healthier, you can really understand where the author found the idea of playing with consent. it is, in my opinion, 100% characteristic of how they would behave post-war, with that grief and confusion. it’s also dom/sub in some parts, and that’s mf hot. 

it also has my favorite tropes in it, but it’s a spoiler to say which one. i’ll probably mention the trope in the list along with a bunch others, but when u finish reading you’ll know which one ;)

6. Humbug / ~30K

Draco has been taking his casual relationship with Harry for granted. Visits from four key ghosts the night before Christmas just might shake up his priorities in life.

(felt like it was valid to just paste what i wrote in my notes app after reading this)

(FUCKKKKKK HOW TO EVEN START?!!!?? just a fucking bonus, draco is THE best bottom o ever exist i love my bottom son so much. this story isnt only amazing it’s excruciatingly painful to read, harry and draco have been sleeping together but harry is completely in love with him. draco doesnt see how much harry cares for him or how much hes hurting harry by treating their fling like its just that, a FLING. with that, draco is haunted by three ghosts. one of the past, the present and the future, AND THEY SET THAT IDIOT STRAIGHTTTT 1800000/10. the gays DO KEEP MF WINNING!!!

7. in your arms, rests my world / ~24K

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it.

“You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

the friends with benefits trope doesnt ever disappoint, top 5 tropes fr, especially if its also 8th year. harry and draco get into their little thing, but of course nothing ever is simple between them. by the preview, you can clearly see how much draco likes harry (also another 10/10 trope, the ��i’ve been in love with harry potter since i was 11′ one). my only tiny issue with this is that harry fucks it up just a tad, but it of course adds up to the drama of it all, which i absolutely love.

noting it also touches on non-con/rape and, and all in all, is extremely angsty. one i was tense from beginning to end. but i am gonna say it ends amazingly and v happily.

8. Playing the Hero / ~29K

Nobody kissed me like Harry did. He kissed like he flew; he kissed like he duelled - with his whole being, not caring about anything else. I had never felt as vulnerable as I did when he kissed me, seizing all and any control I had over myself. But when Harry kissed me, I felt free...

so the thing about angst is that it ignites that mf feeling side u that even tho it hurts you cannot get enough of. this fic was EVERYTHINGGG. it made cry and laugh and smile. also another trope i absolutely adore is them breaking up and not being 100% ok with that, bc ding ding!! YALL STILL LOVE EACH OTHER!! 

i cant describe how i felt, honestly. i would just paste my notes (i wont bc spoilers) but it looks like i went thru sum shit. deadass

9. fine i’ll hold my breath / till i forget it’s complicated  / ~ 15K with the two parts

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

u know, fluff is a drug. i dont know if its beucase 90% of drarry fics are about angsty get-togethers, but i had butterflies in my stomach when i read this. its adorable. draco is so clearly in love, he jusT SMILES A LOT I CANTTT. 

its cute. i love it to death. have some fluff before starting your day.

10. Un Noël très parisien / ~14K

When Draco crossed paths with Auror Potter at a political function in Paris, he was not expecting their former animosity to change into something rather more intriguing. But he could be certain their casual flirtation would not last more than the night, couldn't he?

look. i know i named a lot of my favorite tropes here, but i cant end this without mentioning how much single dad draco affects me. i love scorpius and how much he changes draco in every fic he appears. i love parent draco and i shant be silent about it (especially when scorpius is legit just a year old in this. i died)

as it states, harry and draco have a one night stand but draco thinks thats it, that it was all he was ever gonna have. he’s wrong of course, and the path it takes, with both scorpius and harry there, just melted my mf heart.

well kids that’s all i have for now. imma work on a part two with 10 other fics i really love!1

[ferretfreedomfighters]

⁣JUSTICE FOR SITKA - A Marshall Ferret Story

❌⁣ ❌⁣ Marshall Ferrets is the leading ferret mill in North America. They supply most of the pet stores in the USA with ferrets and pet stores across all of North America with ferret supplies. Marshall Ferrets is first and foremost a ferret mill. Ferret mills force female ferrets to breed out of season by injecting them with hormones, take their babies away from them when they are far too young, and over breed their females in order to meet the supply and demand needs put forth by their customers. Along with this, Marshall Ferret’s products are absolutely awful for ferrets: their malt paste and treats contains harmful sugars and carcinogens, their ferret kibble is essentially McDonalds for ferrets, and their toys are easily destroyed which creates choking and blockage hazards.

But, capitalism persists. This company rakes in millions of dollars every year, and they won’t stop until the money stops coming in. Please consider boycotting Marshalls and not purchasing any ferrets from pet stores, or buying any products that come from this terrible and unethical company. ❌⁣ ❌⁣

Here is Sitka’s story:

“This story is not easy for me to tell, I will.

For Sitka.

I bought Sitka from Petco on March 2nd, 2019. I knew nothing of Marshall Farms and their unethical and inhumane handling and breeding of ferrets. All I knew was that I had spent two years dreaming of owning a ferret and was finally ready to bring one into my heart and home. As soon as I saw Sitka, I knew he was the one. But looking back now, Sitka was way too young to have been in that display case, open for just anyone to purchase. He should have still been with his mother and siblings for at least four more weeks. Sadly, this is the case for all ferrets sold by Marshall Farms. While they claim the kits leave their farm at 8-9 weeks of age, I, along with many others, believe this is not the case and that most of the kits are ripped away from their mothers earlier than claimed.

Once I got Sitka home, I immediately noticed that he was scratching vigorously at his hears. During his first vet visit, the veterinarian confirmed that he had an ear mite infestation and an infection in one of his ears. Again this is the case for many ferrets purchased from Marshall Farms due to the poor and unhygienic living spaces. 

Although I wasn’t the perfect ferret owner while I had Sitka, I feel like I could do a lot right now. I never fed any of the pastes, supplements, or treats made by Marshalls. I switched him to a much better kibble than Marshall’s and used a water bowl instead of a bottle. I only used oatmeal to bathe him and gave him 24/7 free roam in my room. Sitka and I were inseparable. Wherever I was, he was. There were even more mornings that I woke up and found him sleeping in the bed with my pillow.

It saddens me knowing that Sitka never had another ferret to play with and while I know humans can never replace ferret companionship, I made sure that Sitka was stimulated every day and had hours of playtime with me. And trust me, we played hard.

Flash forward 6 months lager, we had just moved into a new apartment, and I started to notice that Sitka was sleeping longer and longer. At first, I thought it was because he was stressed from the move, but then I noticed that his hind legs began to wobble and move with difficulty. I scheduled a vet appointment and took him as soon as I could the vet found that he was running a high fever and was dehydrated. She gave him some fluids subcutaneously and prescribed me with Metronidazole which is an antibiotic used to treat many infections.

I gave Sitka the Metronidozole every 12 hours for a week, but I saw no improvement. Instead, Sitka’s condition got even worse. he was extremely lethargic and his hind legs had given out almost completely. The only time he would move was to go potty, but he would only make it a couple of inches before he’d give up and relieve himself where he was. During this entire week, I was also syringe feeding and watering him since he would not eat or drink on his own. I took him to the vet again. He had lost some weight despite my efforts to keep him fed. His fever was still present, and now his head tilted to one side permanently. This time we had blood work, x-rays, and an IV done. While palpating his stomach, the vet also felt a mass in his midsection. Since there were no overnight veterinary hospitals in my city, I had to take Sitka home with me. Every hour or two for days, I would inject fluids into Sitka’s IV. I was exhausted and drained from the worry of losing him and lack of sleep. I prayed that any call I would get from the vet would tell me that it was something I could fix. But, this was not the case. The vet called and told me that the x-rays showed that his spleen, liver, and kidneys were enlarged. The blood work also showed that his organs were beginning to fail. I held Sitka close and told him over and over again how much I loved him. I didn’t want him to be alone for a second.

The following day I took Sitka back to the vet. while in the exam room, the vet explained to me what she believe was his diagnosis. Ferret Systematic Coronavirus. FRSC is simple to the dry form of Feline Infectious Peritonitis (FIP), and like FIP, there is no cure. A more common coronavirus seen in ferrets is ferret enteric coronavirus which causes epizootic catarrhal enteritis (ECE), but more and more cases of FRSC have been reported from the United States. Like ECE, FRSC is extremely contagious and transferred from fecal matter. The only way to prevent FRSC is by avoiding exposure from ferrets that are infected, and to keep cages clean and disinfected.

To be sure this was what Sitka had, we did an ultrasound. I can’t remember exactly what the vet saw, but it did confirm our fears. She further explained to me what the results of the blood work meant, but I was not in the right mind to listen or learn. All I was thinking about was that I was about to make the hardest decision in my life. There was a choice to potentially treat his symptoms, the vet explained that it was clear he had suffered from central nervous system damage since he had hind limb paralysis and had a head tilt. I made the decision to end his suffering and humanly euthanize him. I stayed there with him and thanked him for being my companion for the short time I had him, and told him over and over again how much he was loved and how he’d be missed. The vet announced that he no longer had a heartbeat and I held and kissed him for the last time.

After talking with my vet and one of the animal science professors, we have concluded that Sitka must have been infected by his mother. Like FIP, his virus must have started off asymptomatic and then later mutated and infected and spread throughout his body. Marshall Farms does not keep clean and disinfect cages. They do not test their ferrets for diseases like these and they do not care how genetically healthy their breeder ferrets are. They only care about producing cute and exotic colored kits no matter the issues that come along with them. I wouldn’t wish any ferret owner to experience what I did, but knowing that Marshall Farms will continue to mass-produce and inbred ferrets in unclean conditions, it is bound to happen again. Sitka was only 8 months old when he left me. He and all the others like him deserve justice. Please boycott Marshall Farms and all their products.”

Sitka is not the first, and certainly wont be the last, Marshall ferret to leave his owners much too young. Unhealthy breeding practices are the tip of the iceberg when it comes to problems with Marshall Ferrets. Do your part to stop the breeding of ferrets at ferret hell (aka MF). Do not buy ferrets from pet stores. Do not purchase any Marshall products (this includes toys, cage accessories, food, treats, and shampoos). We have the power to make a difference for ferrets across North America.

If you have a story about a mill bred ferret that you would like to share, please send it to our submit box so we can use it to help educate.

[princeofyorkshire]

hi love i saw your post! you are not pathetic!!! one dee/larrie is a huge part of a lot of peoples lives and i think the main reason for me at least is because they make me feel safe? like im not out to my family but i am here and harry and louis and all my friends ive made on here always make me feel so safe and loved. and that’s how i know it isn’t pathetic ya know? but anyway, im on break finally we love to see it 😌! louis turns 28 so soon can you believe!! - ss💘

hi love!!! yeah i know, and i can relate to that. this fandom has always made me feel safe and helped me accept who i was because i’ve also struggled a lot with my sexuality. i owe them a lot you know 🥺 i love it here (most of the time), i just had this weird. breakdown or whatever last night because i’m getting old and seeing people moving on and i’m still Here it’s kinda weird? but i love and enjoy it a lot so i know there’s nothing wrong with it. i’m just sensitive and i don’t want people to make fun of me or whatever jdkdkdks but i’m ok now, last night i kinda. lost my mind i guess KDKDKKDKS thanks for this message lovely santa, and god i keep forgetting louis’ birthday/christmas is SO soon like. jesus. 28!!!! that’s my mf babey. wild!!!!

[ecotone99]

[MF] To Love The Wind_A Simple Beauty

So ive been wanting to write a novel for a long time now, but it never seems to pan out for whichever reason, mostly i have a hard time finding good inspirstion plot wise. Tonight, me and my girl were reading a short story about the God Of Arepo, and she asked me if id be able to write something similar. What i came up with is kind of metaphorical for both of our lives, so its a little sappy, and honestly im a pretty meh writer in general so also meh. But it felt good to write again for the first time in a while, and if j can continue to find the inspiration, i may expand this into a short novel. Either way its not done, and ill probably be posting the next couple parts soon. Also im new to reddit so be gentle if i dont get how this place works. But dont be gentle on the story, rip me a new one, reafirm all my self doubts and self loathing please.

To Love The Wind Over the ages, people have made a dozen limericks and expressions about love, and how it can save you. But Sevi never thought much of those old tales. Something about it was off to her. If you need it to save you, is it really love? If someone can really love someone, did they ever need saving? No, since she could walk, Sevi fought tooth and nail not to love people, not really. People could be fun maybe, but the more she started to love someone, the more she worried they changed her, claimed her.

She would rather love the trees and the wind. The meadows and the winds, the road beneath her, the worn sandals that kept her feet from bruising on the stone, everything she could find to love. For but a moment, as she scrambled for something new. She never really stopped loving, not once she had started, but rather just leaped and ran, constantly scouring for something new, someone new, something to outshine the last. The dew on the grass never lost its shine, the blue copper that streaked the mountains never lost its luster. But who could remember that, when staring at the sun.

For most of her young life, this suited Sevi just fine. Her feet always licked by thorns and brambles, but if you just keep running, the sting never really stuck. Until one day, she got herself caught. As she looked at herself in a creek by her favorite meadow, something just didn’t seem right any more. No longer did her hair seem to shine, her eyes seem to luster. And on that day, she gave up her love. She stopped running, and lay down to weep, and eventually, to rest. Others still saw her beauty, but to her, she was like bark on a tree. So like a tree, she planted herself, down in her favorite meadow, where she could be alone in her favorite patch of moss, in the shadow of an ugly old oak tree. And from that patch, she never rose, not when people came to wake her, not when family came to leave offerings of flowers and jewelry at the roots of her tree.

A Simple Beauty People rarely starved in the valley between the green hills, and rarely were they put to flame. But rarely did they see the beauty of the outside world; the shining seas, and high peaks, the gilded halls of lords, or the mosaiced temples of gods. But the people of green hills were happy with their simple beauties. One such beauty, was a particularly ugly oak tree, in a particularly plain meadow. It sat on the banks of a thin, muddy stream, shading a patch of moss, where old folks often sat down for lunch, and children or young lovers sat to skip stones.

It was an ugly tree maybe, but its boughs gave shade for beautiful things. And from time to time, people around the meadow would take turns tending to the tree, to the little patch of moss they all visited from time to time, but no one thought much of it.

One day, some soldiers came through town, brandishing no torches or swords, but searching for more who might. With them came a young soldier, one from a town nearby, who didn't really know why he’d joined. His whole life he’d had little to fight for, and money was a good enough reason he supposed.

As he strolled about, his hand resting on the pommel of his new sword, he lifted his eyes a bit for the first time, proud in a small way to see himself as a man. But without a way to prove it, he knew it wouldn't last.

On his walk, he chanced upon a small meadow, where a young couple sat beneath and old oak, and he thought to himself “That’s what I should fight for. For a place I can call my own, a home with simple beauties.” But try as he might, the words rang hollow in his mind. Still, the small beauties of the valley did him well, for the months he stayed there.

But the soldiers who marched over those hills one frigid winter cared little for their simple beauties. The green hills had burned before, and surely they would again, and the people who lived there simply left, with tired eyes, and heavy hearts. Not everyone could run, but the local soldiers laid no claim to the valley, and decided to leave rather than defend it. But as one young soldier strolled about the hills in his camp, he looked down on what felt like his home, saw what felt like his family he never knew, the old or long rooted, the few who defiantly refused to run.

He saw them being slaughtered by men with swords and horses and fire, and he though to himself, “This is what I’ll fight for, for people I can call my own, So others can live their lives in peace, without worry.” And though the words rang hollow, he charged down the road to help his neighbors, not caring if an arrow found his heart, or a sword his throat. But it wasn’t an arrow or a sword that found him, but a stray hoove, that set his eyes to black.

When he woke, he found a village in ruins, the last of the fires smoldering in the cold wind. As he stumbled to his feet, he searched for a place to rest, someone to fight, someone to help, anything to make him feel lucky to be alive. But all the houses had burned, all the soldiers gone, and the villagers dead or captive. And as he started to lose hope, he found himself lying in a patch of moss, near a small creek, kept running from the muddy water that wouldn’t quite freeze. And he looked up, at his favorite, ugly oak, its boughs torn and frozen, its meadow set in snow and ash and gore. But despite everything, it still stood, sheltering its little patch of moss from the storm and war.

He looked around with tired eyes, and found himself hungry, starving really. For a day he lay there, too tired and dazed to move. But the tree sheltered him, and the moss eased the pain in his back, the gurgling of the creek soothed him. When finally he sat up, calm, but famished, he saw the wilted offerings at the base of the tree, old flowers and jewelry, and thought to himself “I must not be the only one who loves this tree”.

“I guess I owe you a favor eh?” He said, half bored, and half lonely “I’ve not much to offer. But you can have this… I won’t be needing it any more.” And he laid his sword at the base of the tree.

He set about, and looked for something to eat, but all the fields and stored had been pillaged and burned, the game all scared away. After searching for what felt like hours, he sat back down in his patch of moss, despondent. But as he did, he saw something new, something he hadn’t noticed before. In the muddy little creek, was a small noose trap, likely set by a child in hopes of catching a minnow. And in that trap, was a small, shrivelled fish, still wiggling. As he went to pry the fish, he found a bush of berries, hidden away by the boughs of the oak.

Looking at the great oak, and some of its branches, scattered across the ground, he decided to make a fire. “Im sorry tree” He said as he lit it “Already you’ve done me so much, but it seems ill need your help some more.”

The fish, though shriveled, felt satisfying to him, and the berries delicious. “You’ve done me so much, but I’ve never got your name” He said, half to himself, “Well you can have mine if it matters. I’m Aren.”

Much to his surprise, the tree responded, in a quiet, feminine voice “I'm Sevi.”

submitted by /u/ByTheBurnside [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Ll9UeB

[noteventalented]

There's no hood like Motherhood

I always wanted to be a mom. At a very young age I knew it would be my biggest accomplishment and I couldn’t wait for it. I remember during school when the teacher would ask “where do you see yourself in 10-15 years” I wouldn’t instanstantly think “with a family first of all….”

I had just turned 24. I worked at a huge Neurology clinic. I was the medical assistant of an amazing woman Doctor whom I owe a lot of my knowledge to. Anyways, I was one day late but I’m the type of person that has to know what is up with my body at all times. I love doctor visits but that’s beyond the point. So i took a test since we had them for the clinic. I put the test in my pocket because we had hella patients. 10-15 mins later I came back to my desk and saw the biggest surprise of my life! No one ever prepares you for those two lines I swear to god. I couldn't breathe. I believe I cried for two days straight. Let's fast forward..

My pregnancy was amazing, almost perfect. My first appointment was two weeks after I found out and I was 7 weeks pregnant. There I was listening to the most beautiful sound ever, his heartbeat. I remember crying during first trimester begging God for one day of peace (I threw up 4-5x daily for 4 months!!). Last trimester testes you like a mf. Besides that I ate/eat healthy for the most part so I believe that plus excersice were major factors in my pregnancy being so fab. I had a good job at the time so it gave me the opportunity to have a great OB and deliver in a even greater hospital, which were also a plus.

Two days before my due date I went in for my last appointment. I actually already had my induction scheduled for the following week incase I went past due. I had a uterus massage which is as uncomfortable as it sounds. The remaining of the day I felt light cramps as if I was about to get my period. I went home and finished my bag, cleaned my house, took a long shower and took my nails off because I desperately needed a new set. Midnight hit, boyfriend and I laid in bed and played an episode of Jessica Jones. Thinking back I realize I might of jinx us by saying “as long as the baby doesn’t come while we go to bed because I’m sleepy af”. Mind you, I was still getting mild cramping then I noticed they were getting closer and closer. I started timing them with my phone and they were literally 5 mins apart. We still decided we would wait, it was prop nothing. Welp, my water broke about 30 seconds later.

I was as chill as Kourtney Kardashian was when she was having Mason. We arrived to the hospital. You know paperwork, testing, IV got put in and then there was the painful ass epidural (seriously it was the most painful part.. to me). I love needles, blood, medicine so I felt in my zone the whole time. At this point I had done tons and tons of research on childbirth. I kept reminding myself “I’m a woman, we are meant to have children, I got this. I got this”. Fast forward a couple painful hours and three hours of pushing I finally delivered my son. I always replay it in my head to forever remember every single detail. I cried instantly. The room went quiet like in the movies. I was slow motion but the room was racing. I stared at my beautiful baby, every inch, counting his toes and fingers. He was perfect, more than I could of ever imaged. The happiness you feel is unexplainable. You’re complete. After labor, the honeymoon ends. Delivering a placenta is hard work. Picture this, you popped out this baby that’s been in your belly for almost a year. Your organs are all over the place (literally, nurses have to massage your uterus to go back in place. It will make you scream) and you still have to keep pushing to deliver all this extra stuff. No count me out. I was dead. Oh and let’s not talk about how you feel the next day. I felt as if I got run over by a train. I couldn’t walk, sitting was a bitch and every inch of me was sore. Sore as fuck. Thank god for pain meds.

Guess what though? I would do it all over again. I actually consider myself so blessed and lucky. I thank God every single day for giving me my son. A son at that. I always saw myself with a son first. My pregnancy was beautiful. I felt beautiful the whole time. I went half on a child with someone I love dearly. My son changed me, he made me a better person. I wasn’t near decent, I was actually an ugly person on the inside at a point in my life. Someone I take great advice from once told me “ask the universe and you will receive”. I did just that, I prayed for forgiveness and guidance to the right direction. I was always a lost child. The universe gave me my child. Everything makes sense now. Life has never been more clear for me.

[ecotone99]

[MF] The old rocker

I have been wanting to write for probably 10+ years, and finally this month something in me actually made it happen and ive been playing around. Put together this short story tonight and would love advice/critique. Don't be afraid to be harsh, I'm not pretending to know at all what im doing. The story doesn't have much mean or reason but it is what came out..

He was seventy-five years old, and dressed the same as he ever had, like a rocker. White sneakers, tight jeans and small white t-shirts. A leather jacket in the colder months. He lived alone and barely ventured from his house, except to go to the bank and supermarket. He had no car, nor a license, so he made good use of the bus stop directly outside his house when needed. His small house was run down, and the garden was not over grown, but completely baron apart from grass. The house was sat in one of the nicer areas of town – a good end of the city. Upon the death of his mother, with great help he had brought this place with his inheritance, leaving enough to live off until his pension kicked in. He had never had any urge to make money, nor any head for it, but he sufficiently managed his essentials. The only kind of leisure that he spent his money on was that of rock music. Mostly on CD’s, he had inherited a decent stereo, sometimes he also brought guitar strings. He listened to rock music and played his guitar daily – although he was terrible at guitar. He had practiced for over 30 years, and though he could play along with his favorite songs, he never had that connection of really feeling the instrument and using it to express himself. Still, he believed after so many years that his taste in rock was incredibly refined. He knew if ever questioned or entered into a discussion about classic rock music, that he would be completely at home and confident in discussing the obscure and fine aspects of the genre, and the thought of it excited him greatly - although he was yet to have had the chance Despite the rock, throughout this simple life he was a sober man, never drinking or taking drugs. A lucky man whose mind operated on the base line of existence, captivated and distracted enough by the sane things, to never really feel a turmoil in him. Never wanting to see that line from above, or below, only right on top of it. And despite the repetition of his life, he escaped endlessly in his music each day and night, before retiring to his small and plain bed. Every morning he rose without a wakeup call before 6am, to go and sit on the bus stop outside his house, to drink instant coffee and watch the sunrise with a smile. The sun would peek up from behind the adjacent houses, closely trailing the golden haze that melted the morning cold and fog, hitting his feet first and then the rest of him as he sipped on his coffee and thought about his favorite bands.

He always felt truly alive sitting here and often thought that as long as the sun rose each morning, he would be happy. He would watch the traffic pickup over the course of a couple of hours, the odd person here and there heading off to work before there was light, slowly building into the commuter frenzy peaking at eight thirty. They were all part of a world that seemed to move at a different pace than him, not that he ever seemed to care, or consider this. On Saturday and Sunday mornings he saw all manner of sights as he sat. Girls coming down the footpath, holding their high heels, stumbling forward as if still wearing them. Inebriated men, still trying to ride the night, walking past directionless. Occasionally solo dogs walked by with pace, not even turning to look or sniff at him as they passed, clearly having somewhere to be. More rarely so a group of teenagers or a worser man would slow and say something nasty to him, but he always cluelessly defused these instances by smiling and sipping his coffee. Those encounters were few and far between here in this part of town. He never greeted the morning people that came by on foot, and in ten years had never talked to or befriended any of them, but the daily dog walkers now expected to see him sitting there as they rounded the bend and it was somewhat comforting for them, although they never admit it - sometimes whispering to themselves as they passed “isn’t it sad, that lonely old man”. The bus drivers all knew not to slow or stop for him. He felt no need or miss of the possible interactions, regardless he had barely time enough to listen to the infinite stories and genius of his favorite bands. He would sit until a little after 9am, multiple coffees down, and then head back inside to put on a morning song. Contact from any distant family was years gone, and didn’t seem to bother him.

One cold august Saturday morning, around quarter to six just as the night died, a young man possibly 20, walked towards him as if fueled by something. As he began to pass, the old man heard an unmistakable sound blasting out from the teenager's headphones, the Grateful Dead's Scarlet Begonias, muffled lyrics of “well there aint nothing wrong with the way she moves”. The man felt a strange feeling in his chest and looked at the kid as he passed. The kid turned, smiled, took out one earphone and spoke. “Morning” he said. “Hello” said the man. The kid promptly sat next to the man and slightly slurring proclaimed “I’ve been up all night; I think I’ll barely make it home”. “Ahh” proclaimed the man. “I’m just having my coffee”. He looked at the direction of the muffled song, still playing out of the headphones, the high frequencies of the guitars dimly jabbing into the morning air. “Scarlet Begonias” he said. The kids body seemed to perk up now, he sat upright and removed the other earphone from his ear. “You know them??” he said, bloodshot eyes wide. He looked down at the old man and noticed now that he looked straight out of a seventies rock band with his tight black jeans and a worn leather jacket. He had on a gold chain and his hair was curly and unkempt. He looked the part just as much as the combination of age and theme looked inappropriate. “Scarlets one of Hunters best” replied the man. “They rocked it over 300 times live”. “Did you ever see them” said the kid. The old man smiled, “no, that would have been nice though”. “Hell yeah” replied the kid. Then he thought of asking about other bands the man liked, or what he had done in his life. He then thought to maybe ask just what the hell he could do in his own life. But the comedown of the nights drugs and drink, was on the tail end of almost 36 hours without sleep, so most of the thoughts he made were conjured by this and then lost or zapped out by his brain, before they got anywhere near his mouth.

Beside him the old man, finally feeling like he had a friend he could talk to, was unfortunately finding himself too with nothing to say – although this was normal for him. He sipped at his coffee and for a couple of minutes they sat there with only the dim sound of the song coming from the headphones, light now starting to raise up behind the house and tree lines adjacent to them, both smiling and feeling something new. “I... got to sleep” said the kid finally. “Yeh, better” smiled the man. The kid stood carefully, bracing himself on the seat, looked at the old man and smiled back. He set off slowly, putting his headphones back in his ears. He found now he felt a little better, walking off thinking of that old man. “He is onto something” he said to himself. “He’s truly living, what am I scared of. He’s old and hasn’t lost anything”. In that moment, growing old didn’t seem as bad to him as it had before. Meanwhile, the old man stared down into his empty coffee cup, and while thinking of his favorite rock bands, decided to go inside for a refill before heading back out to his bench.

submitted by /u/swtadeline [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2VQg2NI

[ecotone99]

The Endless Road [MF]

I

How long I have travelled. How far I have come. Yet there still is nothing.

It wasn’t always this way, I used to live a normal life, a life of fun, happiness and pleasant times…

Where did it all go wrong? Why am I stuck here? On an endless road; a road of desolation and suffering. I do not remember when it was that I first came to this road, has it been weeks? Months? Years? Have I been here all along and my normal life was a mirage? These questions run through my lonely mind as I travel down the road through darkness on foot.

The road is old, worn and cracked, the scenery around the road from what I can make out in the darkness is a barren wasteland of dirt. The only light is a dim, flickering road light on the side of the road every now and then casting a dull warm white light in a spotlight on the road ahead. It’s unsettling not being able to see anything except the road ahead, but I have no choice but to keep going forward, hoping to find an end to this seemingly endless, dark and lonely road.

There has been no people or life in sight for ages, the desolation is getting to me, it feels like I’m carrying a heavy stone in my chest instead of my heart. I want nothing more than for this to end, for me to find purpose again in my life, to find a way out.

It felt like years before I noticed any life. But then, I saw her. There was a person walking down the road in front of me! Was this reality? Or was my lonely mind playing a desperate trick on me to stop my loneliness from devouring my sanity? I took the chance anyway and called out to her to hopefully get her attention and hopefully prove to myself that she was real.

It turns out she was real.

She was just as shocked as I when she heard me call out. She told me that she thought she was travelling this dark road alone and that she was grateful that she was wrong.

We became friends as we travelled the road together. Her name is Ruby. I told her my name too, Ashton. It isn’t so bad anymore when you have company. We both were equally puzzled as to how we ended up on this road. It seems we both had a similar experience of suddenly being stuck here and not remembering the events that lead up to this moment.

As the weeks rolled on it seemed we weren’t getting any closer to anything...there was no shops, no pit stops, no petrol stations, no toilets, no pay phones, no vehicles, no roads turning off. It’s almost like the road and the scenery repeats itself over and over again, like an endless, repeating roll of film. Ruby was getting tired of this never ending journey and she expressed her frustrations more often as we journeyed down the road but she was trying her best to be more positive than negative. I was also getting tired of it but the more further we went, the more I felt like just simply giving up.

Ruby wouldn’t let me give up. She felt that maybe this road was a trial that was set for us to conquer. I thought that was crazy. How could this be a trial, and if it were a trial how would this kind of thing even be legal? Just taking random people, removing their memories of how they got here and making them walk an endless road for all eternity.

Which makes me think actually...why is it that I haven’t felt the need to eat, drink, sleep or use the facilities? Now this was another mystery that couldn’t be explained. Are we even mortal? Are we human? What are we? Where are we? Who are we?

When will this end.

​

II

Ruby and I found something peculiar today on the barren road. There was something akin to smoke coming from a crack in the bitumen a couple of metres in front of us. We both ran quickly over so we wouldn’t miss it. It was so exciting to see something other than dirt and road.

When we got close to it though we both heard a soft wailing. It sounded like a person crying in despair. It crept into my chest and my heart felt even heavier than before. I felt the deep despair the smoke voice was emitting and I stood there motionless, just staring into the smoke for God knows how long. I woke out of my suffering to Ruby shaking me with a concerned and worried face. When she saw that I awoke she almost cried and hugged me. I hugged her back and asked what the hell just happened, because I don’t remember much...except that immense feeling of despair.

Ruby told me I started looking dead. Not dead on the outside but on the inside, she described me as having lost the light in my eyes and the will to move forward. She had to drag me away from that smoke. I wondered though, why was it that Ruby wasn’t affected? Was she immune to the power of whatever that was? Ruby didn’t have an answer but she said we must keep going. We were walking for a while before I brought up anything again. I asked Ruby what she thinks that smoke was and she asked me with concern if we really should be talking about it since what it did to me wasn’t pleasant. I didn’t care, the smoke couldn’t harm me anymore since we weren’t near it anymore right? Ruby reluctantly agreed and she told me her idea of what the smoke could have been. Ruby said that she thought the smoke could have been energy left over from people travelling this road who stopped and let despair take over.

To be honest that seemed logical, but it also scared me. I almost succumbed to despair because of it. If Ruby wasn’t with me...if she wasn’t there to save me from my despair...I would have become a waft of despair; a tiny smoke trail emitting from the bleakest road...left behind as the only memory of me.

III Time rolled on and I noticed Ruby was starting to seem a lot more cheerful despite our predicament we were stuck in. I asked her what has got her so gleeful and she didn’t know. She just told me that her heart was feeling less weighted and that she felt as though the road will come to an end soon. Oh how I wish she was right. The road didn’t end, but Ruby vanished.

She left the road with no trace left behind. I was now completely alone once more. Maybe Ruby was right? Maybe this is some kind of demented test and Ruby just passed hers? That’s why she left right? She wouldn’t just leave me like that. She was my only friend I had here with me on this road of desolation. I kept on walking forward despite everything. I wasn’t in the best of moods, my heart still heavy within my chest and I was weakening by the day, I just felt like I couldn’t go on anymore. But something in the back of my mind told me to not give up just yet, that it’s not worth it and the world still needs me. I thought of my friends, my family, my pet, the things I would be missing out on. Remembering the good times I had as a kid and before I somehow ended up here helped me alot and thinking about Ruby and what example she showed me in the short time I knew her for. I remember her always saying to never give up and that all things come to an end even this road. I kept those positive thoughts in my head as I travelled onwards, I even walked past more smoke whilst thinking of the positive thoughts and it affected me less and less. I also felt as though I was going to find the end of the road. I felt the road is only endless if you believe it is. Ruby believed the road would come to an end, and right after that, she disappeared. I have hope that the same will come to me if I just keep my spirit positive. As I walked on, the road started to appear less dark, the sun was rising in the distance which is surprising since it has never risen ever, the whole time I was walking this road. It brought a smile to my face. But what I saw next was even better, I saw life, I saw trees, I saw insects, I saw flowers, I saw the ocean in front of me. I saw my friends, family and my pet waiting for me on the dock.

I started running forwards at a fast pace, the fastest I have moved for centuries with a feeling of relief welling up in my chest, I felt lighter than I have ever felt before.

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Then I woke up.

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IV

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Was it only just a dream? Life went on like normal. It’s like I was never gone. My family said that I seemed a lot more livelier recently and less tense. They were right, I felt better than I have in years. I felt as though my mind wasn’t clouded by anxiety and depression any longer. My spirit felt liberated and I felt like I could work on my problems I have been facing instead of putting them off because they’re not important or ‘as bad as they seem’.

If you don’t believe there’s an end to your suffering, you’ll never find the end. If you forget what’s important in life, there is only darkness to see. I think Ruby was right. This was a test, a test of the mind. My mind wanted to be stronger, it wanted to escape from my endless despair, self doubt and pain. Thanks to Ruby and my willpower I have finally been set free. I know Ruby is doing fine too, wherever she is in the world. I owe my life to her.

Just remember always; there’s always hope, even in the darkest places you can find hope. From that tiny sliver of hope; even more can spawn. Ruby was my first sliver of hope and the more I believed, the closer I got to the end. The more life I saw, the more happiness I felt. The truth was revealed to me. I have been set free. The End

Authors Notes: Hi everyone, this is my first ever story. I know it is not that good but I am pretty proud of it and I hope the meaning gets across to you all and that you like it somewhat. Thank you for reading!

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