#kill the voice within you who wants to defend men

[uramitashi]

when my friend implies a boy we know is a misogynist, i still have the impulse - you know, to defend him. To say "he's actually not that bad as a male, he's one of the good ones!"

i used to do that all the times when i was younger; i learned it from my mom. I remember being 12 and asking my mother why, why those nude photos of a girl my age circulating are embarassing for her? Why is it not embarassing for the boys who look her up? And my mother having to explain to me, men don't care about you as a person that much. Men will masturbate on the photos of 12 years olds - you included. I remember asking but is dad too? but is my brother too? how can i trust them if they are like that? and with an almost offended frown, she'd snap at me with an oh, but not all men are like that! Why would you even think that?

Growing up, she would do it all the time. Boys being pigs and my female classmates being groomed were just me exaggerating, me acting too much like a radical feminist instead of a normal one.

My mother has hated, without fail, every single one of my boyfriends. She would always remark that i am way, way better than any boy i have ever given attention and they should be grateful someone like me even looked in their direction. But oh how drastically did this attitude change, when i was the one venting about them. How i would become a stuck-up, exaggerated nagging girlfriend who can't accept that no one is perfect and men are just kind of worse than women. How everytime i would lament some sort of injustice - from my brother, from a boyfriend, from a male friend - she would be on first line defending him with sweat and blood. They are not all bad, you know. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he means well. Maybe you are exaggerating.

A boy in my uni college acts like a textbook misogynist. He uses girls for their body and services, openly insults women. Some of my old male friends have a single recurrent topic: insulting women. My mother speaks within me: but maybe he's not a lost cause. Maybe they are just dumb in a teenager way and will grow out of it and don't really mean it in a way.

The voice of my mother is the one of a scared girl who can't stomach to see the bigger picture of men's behaviour, of a girl who just want to coexist with them freely; but i have the moral duty not to inherit that.

hes even worse than i thought. maybe he is the one we should stay away from.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Biting- Geralt x Vampire!Reader

Description: Your friend Geralt helps to quench more than just your thirst for blood

Word count: 1,673

A snarl sounded deep from your throat, and hissed passed your fanged teeth as Geralt tried to approach you once again.

“I just want to help you, y/n.” He explained gruffly, as he sat back down on the rough ground of the dark cave with a huff.

“A Witcher wanting to help a monster. Seems to go totally against what you are.” You smirk over to your friend, a joke you often make at his expense.

It was rare, if not totally unheard of, for a Witcher to befriend a monster, and yet that’s exactly what happened with yourself and Geralt.

He’d one day been tasked to hunt and kill you, but after finding out that you had only attacked that town because of the vile men that lived within it, he decided to spare you.

Most of your kind feasted on easy prey, innocent people who can’t defend themselves. You decided long ago to use your need for blood to help defend those innocent people, only going after those who deserve it.

“You know with how old you are and how long we’ve been friends, you think you would have thought of a better joke.” He chuckles deeply at you.

“And I would have thought with how old you are, you would have grasped the concept of ‘no’ by now.” You snap back at your friend.

Your head rested against the cave wall as you closed your eyes, trying hard not to focus on the sound of Geralts heartbeat, or his intoxicating smell. It had been too long since you had fed and you were starting to notice. Geralt had offered to let you drink from him, but you couldn’t hurt him.

Geralt had spent the last hour trying to convince you to drink from him, whereas you had spent that time convincing yourself that it was his blood you craved and not the way his skin would feel against your body. Geralt was a friend and you couldn’t cross that boundary with him, no matter how badly you craved to.

You must have been focusing a lot harder then you thought, because the next minute you felt Geralts hand on yours. As your eyes flung open, they glared into the witchers eyes.

The deep red of your eyes and the dangerous look you wore would normally scare anyone, but not Geralt. In fact if anything, it made him more bold. His hand left the top of yours as it made its way slowly up your arm, to gently cup around your neck.

It felt as though you were paralysed, locked in place by his intoxicating scent. Your rational and animalistic mind fighting a battle of wills as his head bent down to whisper in your ear.

“I can smell that it is more than just my blood that you crave.” Geralt whispered seductively in your ear, his other hand now rubbing up and down your inner thigh.

Your self control was bending but not broken, that was until he began to press hot and deep kisses onto your sensitive neck. With feel of his intoxicating kisses on your sensitive skin, and his scent so close, your control fully snapped and you became ravenous.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pushed him against wall, landing aggressively in his lap as you now straddle his large thighs. With a hand in his hair, you pull his head back to expose his strong neck.

Geralt knew that in your hungry and desperate state that you’d be stronger than him, and honestly he seemed to like it.

“Is this what you wanted, Witcher? Wanted me to lose my composure? To hurt you?” You growled closely in his ear, accentuating your point by tugging at his hair harder and beginning to grind into his lap.

“Yes.” He sighed out, a cheeky smile both in his voice and on his face.

“Are you sure?” You ask seductively, but also as a way to really check this is what he wanted, as you sharp fangs began to lightly trace his neck.

“Mhmmm, I trust you, y/n.” He confirmed breathlessly.

Trying to prove his point or maybe just to get you to hurry up, he put one hand on your ass, to guide your grinding. Whereas the other carded through your hair, pushing your face closer to his neck.

Chuckling into his neck at his obvious excitement and mutual arousal, you began to lightly lick and kiss his neck, wanting to tease him for as long as you could.

With both of your heightened senses, you could both smell just how desperate the two of you were. The strong scent of his arousal and the delicious blood pumping through his body was driving you half mad, but you could hold off just a little longer if it meant teasing the Witcher.

“Y/N, stop teas-“ Geralt was promptly cut off as your fangs bit into his neck.

The feeling of your hot bodies pressed together and the delicious blood finally reaching your mouth, made a fire erupt all through out your body. Once that first drop touched your tongue it was all over.

Your whole arm wrapped around Geralts head, pushing it into your breasts as you began to hump and grind against his growing impressive bulge. You were like a woman possessed, pushing yourself further against him, not being able to get close enough to his body for your liking.

Finally breaking away from his neck, you let out a desperate moan as you began licking and pecking at his wound. You were fed but it still wasn’t enough.

Grabbing him by his white hair once again, you push his head back and away from your breast. Now looking at his face, you see it set in a dazed and dopey smile, hooded eyes looking into yours.

“So tell me, Witcher. Did you just want me to drink your blood or did you want to help me with my other cause of desperation too.” You whispered hotly against his lips, teasing him with an almost kiss.

“Well that’s what friends are for.” He smirks at you.

His once and usual manly stoic look was now wiped away, and instead a lust drunk smile of a boy takes its place. Geralt would not give up control to anyone, but in this cave and with you, it felt like there was no better way.

Smirking and looking into his eyes, you hungrily capture his lips in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry and desperate, his hands digging into your ass as you begin to unbutton his trousers to release his hard and desperate cock.

Freeing his cock and pulling away to stand up, leaves him grunting in protest.

“So you don’t want me to ride your cock then?” You taunt him as smirk cheekily, beginning to undress yourself.

Geralt quickly began to behave as he watched your little show you began to put on him for him. Each item of clothing revealing more skin that Geralt desperately wanted to lick, kiss and touch.

“Yeh that’s what I thought.” You wink as you straddle his lap once again.

Taking his impressive cock in your hand, you stroke him a few times before lining yourself up with him.

Geralts head is pushed against and the cave wall and his eyes are closed, enjoying every ounce of pleasure that you’re giving him.

“Look at me, Geralt. I want to see your face as I sink down onto your cock.” You gently order, shifting your hips to tease his sensitive head.

Peeling away from the wall, his eyes look both desperately and hungrily into your own. Both begging you to use him and asserting his dominance all at once.

“Good boy.” You cheekily coo as you begin to sink down onto his cock.

You both seem to moan in unison as you hold each others gaze, both of you being filled with immediate pleasure and relief. It takes a moment to get used to his size, but once you are and you’ve properly bottom out, you begin to move immediately.

Grinding into him quickly turns into bouncing, causing Geralts hands to fly to your breasts. He groans as he takes one in his mouth and his other grabs at your ass.

You continue to bounce and use his cock for your own pleasure, drawing moans from both of you. Geralt feels blessed to be used in such a way by such a beautiful woman. His mind filled with nothing but how tight your pussy feels and how good your tits feel in his hand and mouth.

The cave is filled with both of your mixed moans and grunts. The sound of skin slapping onto skin getting louder and louder and you bounce faster and faster.

Pulling Geralt away from your breasts by his hair, you place his hands on your hips. His strong fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as your breasts bounce deliciously in his face, leaving him staring at your form, hypnotised by your beauty and power.

“Fuck! Geralt! You feel so good! Such a good fucking boy.” You praise as your fingers come down to play with your clit.

Geralt can’t help the way his moans become almost animalistic, as your pussy clenches around his cock. Grunts and groans leave his beautiful parted lips and echo around the cave as you both reach your end.

“Fuck, Geralt, I’m so close!”

“Me too. Fuck! Cum with me, sweetheart.” He grunts out in response.

You were wound so tight and from just those words alone, you couldn’t hold on much longer. The tension in you snapped as you came with a loud roaring moan, your head flying back.

Geralt took a tighter hold of your hips as he thrust into you powerfully, finishing only seconds after you.

Panting deeply with sweat covering both of you, you push your forehead against his as you both catch your breath.

“Maybe I should come to you when I’m thirsty more often.”

[opencommunion]

a voteblue told me the other day that if I don't vote, my government "won't know I exist" and therefore won't know my grievances. I had to laugh because my governments at the state, federal, and local level have longstanding documented policies of surveilling my ethnic group! the government knows very well that I exist — from the moment I was born they identified me as their enemy, an "anchor baby" and "sleeper cell," a demographic threat and a national security threat. before I was old enough to form any opinion about my government they had already labeled me an enemy of the state. they know all about Arab grievances and have 0 interest in listening to us because they do not see us civilian constituents who they serve, they see us as hostile foreign others.

you have to get this through your head if you want to understand how Arabs in the so-called US move politically. we move with the understanding that this country is by default antagonistic and hostile towards us on the basis of our race, and to whatever extent we engage in electoral politics, we do so knowing that our government is fundamentally not on our side and getting our perspectives heard (much less empathized with) requires a lot of extra work beyond casting a vote. policies of surveilling Arabs are consistent across red and blue states and admins, and at every level of government (which is why I roll my eyes when I'm told to vote down-ballot — all the candidates at the local level hate me too!)

to give you a glimpse of how our relationship with our government actually works, here are some excerpts from a 2022 congressional testimony by Maya Berry (executive director of the Arab American Institute):

"The federal government has justified counterterrorism and other law enforcement practices in the name of national security for what is a seemingly endless 'war on terror.' In the process, the government has viewed specific communities, including Arab Americans and American Muslims, as a threat to national security and in so doing, has securitized their relationship. ... While not an attempt at a comprehensive list, the following are select examples of government and law-enforcement policies that have targeted Arab Americans (and in some cases, American Muslims and South Asian Americans) or viewed them through a securitized lens. .... In each of these cases, government or law-enforcement policies can be seen as facilitating discrimination rather than functioning as policies of a state actor obligated to safeguard and defend the rights of its citizens. In the wake of the killing of Israeli athletes in a terrorist attack at the 1972 Munich Olympics, the Nixon Administration created the surveillance program known as Operation Boulder. The program sought to silence Arab and Arab American voices within the United States through investigation, surveillance, and harassment. It 'specifically targeted Arabs with U.S. citizenship, resident aliens of Arab descent, non-Arab Americans sympathetic to Arab causes, as well as the relatives, neighbors, friends, and employers of Arab individuals.' Operation Boulder officially ended in 1975 after it was deemed 'not worth it' by law enforcement, though its demise would be announced in a major media outlet as 'A Plan to Screen Terrorists Ends.' In 1987, seven Palestinian men and a Kenyan woman were arrested in Los Angeles for distributing a magazine of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, an organization then considered an advocate for world communism. For the students, known as the 'L.A. 8,' this was a deportable offense under the McCarthy-era McCarran-Walter Act. In 1989, a federal judge declared the charges unconstitutional and, in 1990, Congress repealed the Act. However, two members of the L.A. 8 faced the continued threat of deportation for decades until the government finally ended their effort to deport them in 2007. ... The case of the L.A. 8 is well known among Arab Americans. First, it targeted pro-Palestinian activists and raised the question of whether Arab immigrants or Arab Americans who advocated for Palestinian human rights were indeed protected by the same constitutional rights to free speech and association. Further, in proceedings of the case, it was discovered that the DOJ had a plan for a detention camp called, 'Alien Terrorists and Undesirables: A Contingency Plan.' ... In 2004, it was learned through a Freedom of Information Act request that the Census Bureau had shared demographic data about Arab Americans with the Department of Homeland Security on at least two occasions, in 2002 and 2003. Without a Middle East and North Africa (MENA) category on the Census, it is well documented that Arab Americans are an undercounted community. Yet, DHS was provided with data showing cities with more than 1,000 Arab Americans and zip code-level data broken down by country of origin.

In 2011, the Associated Press published an investigative report on New York Police Department (NYPD) counterterrorism and surveillance programs that directly targeted Arab American Muslim businesses, mosques, and communities in New York and New Jersey in the immediate aftermath of 9/11. The revelations of the breadth and depth of the NYPD’s surveillance program were shocking, with use of widespread 'ethnic mapping,' and reporting on innocent people going about their daily routines. The NYPD’s spying program and others like it are not only unconstitutional, but are also ineffective and significantly harmful to the communities they infiltrate. Not a single lead on terrorist operations resulted from NYPD’s spying activities. In 2011, the Obama Administration released the 'Strategic Implementation Plan for Empowering Local Partners to Prevent Violent Extremism in the United States.' The plan was introduced as a domestic counterterrorism strategy and became the foundation for the federal government’s Countering Violent Extremism (CVE) programs. In 2016, DHS began the Interagency CVE Task Force, which essentially approached community outreach to American Muslim communities as part of counterterrorism programming. Beyond the serious issue of the lack of an evidence-based foundation for CVE, these programs sought to deputize local community members and organizations to surveil their own communities on behalf of the U.S. government.

In 2011, a series of reports by an investigative journalist exposed biased FBI counterterrorism training material. Characterizing American Muslims and Arab Americans as prone to violence, some of the material’s 'highlights' include statements that 'mainstream American Muslims are likely to be terrorist sympathizers,' comparisons between Islam and the Death Star from Star Wars, and assertions that the 'Arab mind' is 'swayed more by ideas than facts,' and that unlike the 'Western Mind' being 'even keel,' in the Arab world, ‘Outbursts and Loss of Control [is] Expected.'

... In 2021, the Biden Administration established the Center for Prevention Programs and Partnerships (CP3). While appearing to be an extension of the Obama Administration’s Countering Violent Extremism (CVE) programs, Biden Administration officials have distanced themselves from previous CVE efforts saying they have taken a new approach. However, like its predecessors, CP3 seems to rest on flawed concepts about 'radicalization' that perpetuate stereotypes of communities and undermine public trust in government."

the US government pays very close attention to us, and it's only to our detriment. invisibility is not the issue here, white supremacy is, and you can't vote white supremacy out of a nation built on it

[detectivestucks]

Akatsuki Concubine I

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Tobi x F!Reader x Konan

Summery: Coming from a poor background you were sold to the pleasure house at a young age even though your dream was to one day be a shinobi. Instead, as you grew up, your mistress got tired of your attitude and sold you to the first duo who asked. These two were none other than members of the formidable Akatsuki.

Warnings: NSFW, DubCon, Female receiving oral, threats of violence,

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is an AU where all the Akatsuki members are alive and together. New mini-series. More parts coming soon.

Sold to the pleasure house at a young age, you were familiar with a life whose path is set for them. You knew you were to serve noble men and their kinks before being sold and married off to the highest bidder. Only you weren’t one to be touched against your will. You had always wanted to become a ninja but you weren’t born into a shinobi family. You were born into a poor family who couldn’t afford to keep their only child. So you read and you practiced, all by yourself. Every day, from the time you were young till now, you centered your chakra, allowing it to flow from point to point. Feeling its life-giving strength fuel your power. You developed what you read was an unusual combination of Fire and Water style jutsus. Your favorite one to use was phoenix flower jutsu. The balls of fire dancing in the space between you and the latest toolbag who tried to touch what he didn’t pay for always made you feel protected. Little did you know it couldn’t protect you from everyone.

Back at the Akatsuki hideout, the crew was getting rowdier than ever. Constant missions had kept everyone apart for months but the burnout was obvious so their leader, Tobi, assigned missions closer to home. The issue is that a band of ruthless shinobi such as the Akatsuki don’t do well within close quarters. 

“Give back my detonating clay!”

“Nice try blondie. I know you were in my room trying to steal Samehada last night. She told me so.”

“Was not!”

“As if I believe you. Maybe I’ll feed this to Samehada, see if she’s as good of an ‘artist’ as you.”

“Wait! I need that for my art!” 

“Psh, you speak of art as if it’s your god. Come to the way of Joshin and you’ll never worry about your silly art again.”

“SHUT IT Hidan!”

“Or what?! Wanna become Joshin’s next sacrifice!”

The purple-haired man swings his scythe at the young artist when the tall shark-like swordsman snatches up the boy by his long blonde strands. 

“Hey! Let go or I’ll-”

“-What, kill me?”

“All three of you need to shut up! When’s our next mission so I don’t have to suffer you idiots?”

“Sasuke, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say to your brethren.”

“Not now, older brother.” he retorts with a pinch to his nose. Soon a half white, half black figure pops into the room.

“Can someone tell me what it’s like to poo?”

“Ah, gross Zetzu! Why’d ya have to bring that up again?!”

“Well, when someone answers the question, maybe I’ll stop.”

“ENOUGH!”

The voice was deep and commanding. An orange-masked man rounds the corner in his scarlet clouded cloak and all members fall silent.

“You are shinobi of an elite organization. Act like it.” 

The man named Tobi strides through the room catching Pain on his way out. 

“Pain, Konan, come.”

A tall orange haired man with a face littered in piercings and a slender woman with a paper flower in her hair follow behind into a spare room. 

“These idiots are always bickering.” Tobi’s baritone states with exhaustion.

“They’re bored sir.”

“I give them respite and they thank me by acting like a bunch of children.”

“Maybe they need something to do…or a way to blow off steam.” Konan defends

“They should be training.” Pain says with a firm nod.

“...or…uh, I…nevermind.”

“Out with it woman.” Tobi’s words spit out like venom.

“Maybe they have…urges…to release?”

“Oh they do, do they?” Tobi presses “Are you speaking from experience?”

With flushed cheeks Konan’s lashes fall.

“That’s what I thought.” Tobi looks towards Pain, “You’re dismissed.”

Both shinobi turn to leave when the deep voice speaks up again, “Where are you going?”

A slender hand raises to tuck lavender strands behind one ear. “You said we were dismissed.”

“No, I said he was dismissed. You haven’t finished serving your purpose.”

With a thick swallow, Konan stands up straight and turns back towards Tobi. “What do you need?” 

With each word he steps forward.“Tell me more about these urges? How do you suggest we satisfy them?”

With one more swallow, Konan finds her composure “I would suggest concubines sir.”

“Concubines, eh?”

“Yes, I believe there are several pleasure houses in the nearby village.”

“Good, I want you to check them out.”

“Check them out?”

“Yes, find some pretty merchandise for your comrades.”

“Don’t you think you should vet them first? You’ve been so picky with who you’ve let into this organization and these girls will be privy to our secrets.”

Tobi muses to himself before agreeing. “We’ll do reconnaissance tomorrow.”

You finish your supper as your lady enters the room. “House is busy tonight. You’re taking the next caller.”

“I’m not putting up with any funny business.”

“Try to be desirable for a change. And stop scaring away the customers.”

“They’re dreadful and disgusting.”

“And pay well”

You scoff at her. “I’ll be in my room.”

“You scare off one more customer and I’m selling you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time!” you call over your shoulder as you walk to your room in a huff. You wish to slam the door as hard as possible but she was right, you could hear your sisters all working. The sounds of men groaning come from every corner of the house and it would be unwise to create a ruckus on such a bustling evening. 

You sit at your looking glass and brush out your hair. You allow it to fall down your back and tickle your neck before you lean forward to apply a small dusting of blush and smear rice water cream over your lips to soften them. Just as you finish, you hear your door begin to open. You look up to a stout man entering your room and raking in your appearance with obvious hunger. You felt your stomach tighten at the thought of entertaining him but you plastered on a sweet simper and move to sit on the mattress, patting the place next to you. 

Meanwhile downstairs Konan approaches your misses.

“Excuse me ma’am. Would you happen to be selling any of your girls?”

“Who’s asking?”

“I am.” Tobi’s tenor voice crashes over the lady as her mouth falls open in fear upon seeing the masked man with the glowing red eye. She realizes her state and quickly closes her mouth while wiping her hands on the front of her dress. “No, I am not selling any of my girls.”

Across the home you hear a man shouting in terror “FIRE! FIRE! HELP THERE’S A FIRE”

“...Except for that one.” she finishes with rage.

Tobi and Konan immediately head towards the shouting to check on the source of the commotion. Upon entering the room they see a beautiful young woman with hair fallen around her face and a disheveled kimono open in the front, exposing both breasts and her pelvis.

“Oh relax” you say, weaving hand signs for your water style cannon to extinguish your phoenix flowers. “Now go, and don’t come back. We don’t need your type around here.”

“Yes we do!” your mistress chimes in, pushing Tobi and Konan to the side to scold you for your behavior.

“No we don’t! He’s a pig! And who the hell are they?!” you say gesturing towards the cloaked shinobi.

“Your next customer”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well that’s too bad cause they intend on purchasing your worthless hide.”

“Like hell they’ll take me.”

You weave the tiger sign to once more scare away these newcomers with your phoenix flower flames only to be met with a ginormous fireball to the face. Quickly you switch your jutsu to water style to combat the masked stranger when he voluntarily stops. 

Your hair falls in your suddenly sweaty face as you gauge the man before you. 

“My, my. Aren’t we a feisty one? And a user of ninjutsu as well. That’s a first.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Well too bad for you because I am. Konan, give the lady the money.”

“Good, take this ungrateful slut off my hands. Maybe you can knock some sense into her. I don’t need my house set ablaze every other day. I’m done.”

You feel your chest constrict with anger and sadness. To be cast aside, demoted to the value of a coin, yet again, and be forced to go to a new home once more. What’s more, is your tricks won't work on this one. He can out master your flames. You give a panicked look to the one with a paper flower atop her head before your teary eyes stare up into the dark hole of the orange mask. 

A gloved hand glides up and cups the bottom of your chin, “Don’t get soft on me now kitten. I enjoy the spark.”

You rip your face away from his hand but he grabs you by the arm. “Konan, test her out for me, please. If you like her we’ll keep her, if you don’t we’ll kill her.”

The sadness in your heart quickly spins to fear as you realize how dangerous your new owner must be. 

“But sir-”

“You said you had pent up urges.”

“I-”

“What? Were you going to ride the face of that Pain puppet? That seems a bit chilly, don’t you think? Why not try someone with a little more body heat?”

The pain and insult were obvious on Konan's face but she did as she was told and approached you. 

With cold and hooded eyes she demands, “Knees.”

You swallow, remembering his words. There was no way out of this one. You were going to have to do what you were trained for and earn your keep…along with your life.

‘You’re the whore; you know what to do” 

Your hands rifle past the noir cloak and find the ties of her pants. You pull the skin tight spandex down past her knees and gently lift her leg to tenderly slide the fabric over her ankle and off her foot.

The pants now removed, your hands hold open the front of her cloak similar to your open kimono. You lift yourself off the heels of your feet and bring your mouth to the front of her cotton panties. You kiss her heat over the cloth before your teeth find the waistband and pull down. 

“Good girl.” you hear the masked man purr from the entrance of the room. 

One hand slides under the thick bamboo fabric of the scarlet and black cloak to graze over her cheek and sink your fingers into the soft flesh of her behind while your other hand wanders up her pale inner thigh, finding her labia and slipping two fingers up into her slit.

Grip tightening on the muscle of her rear, your fingers thrust in and out, hooking inside her squishy insides, feeling how they tighten around your digits. Once she gasps you pull them out and look up at her face before wrapping your lips around your fingers and sucking them clean. The taste was sweet, almost like a baked treat and your lids flutter slightly before she grabs a large section of your hair and pulls you up to your feet.

“Arms folded behind you and lay down on your back.”

You do as she instructs and find her crawling up on the mattress to straddle your face. Her robes fall over your head and you are plunged into darkness, completely blinded by the cloak.

As her weight pushes against your face, you open your mouth to kitten lick at her entrance made wet by your foreplay. 

Just as you open wider to sink your tongue between her lips she reaches back and pinches your nipples earning a cry from you that vibrates against her folds. A satisfied hum can be heard from the place where the masked man stood and you knew he approved.

You jab your tongue out as far as you can and stroke forward inside her heat, slurping up her juices with loud wet sounds. Her hips rut against your face as satisfied signs leave Konan’s chest. You wrap your lips around her little nub at the front of her entrance and rub the tip of your tongue back and forth along the bump. 

Her legs close around your head before suddenly releasing. She repositions herself so that she is facing down your body rather than towards the head of the bed and as she sits back down, your nose prods against the crevice between her cheeks. 

With better access to her swollen bud you seal the perky tip between your pillowy lips and suck. Her thighs squeeze against your body and she weaves hand signs so that two paper butterflies appear and fold into clips. They flutter towards your nipples and you feel their wings brush against your skin before the clip on their bellies opens and traps your sore nipples between them. 

You squirm and whine at the discomfort but really it causes you to clench around nothing. Your legs kick out feeling desperate to get up but your mouth obediently continues to pet her clit. 

Konan lifts her hand and brings it down harshly between your legs, slapping your folds and protruding clit. 

You scream, the vibrations tickling between her legs causing her to lower more of her weight onto your head. Your legs snap closed. “No you don’t.” she says smooth as butter. Grabbing one of your legs in her arms, she holds your leg against her chest and continues her assault on your folds. 

Her rutting against your face as you scream causes the noises to come out muffled and broken which only makes Tobi’s member stiffen in his pants. The spectacle of your squirming beneath his comrade mesmerized him and he knew he wanted you to himself. 

You open your mouth wide to drag your tongue all the way from the hood of her clit, along the front of her entrance and point it as it enters her heat where you dance it in and out of her hole causing her to fall forward and rest her weight on the hand pushing into your waist. 

The butterfly clips attached to the tips of your breasts tightened the more you please the female ninja, who eventually falls all the way forward and returns the favor, sucking on your own swollen nub till your legs shake with pleasure. 

The harder she sucked, the harder you sucked, till you feel her gush on your face and both of you collapse from orgasm. She dismounts, panting from the feeling and nods at her masked counterpart. “This one will do.”

“Well, well, looks like you’re coming with us after all.”

Before you had a moment to realize the meaning of his words you feel yourself being pulled forward and suddenly you are in a dark gray abyss filled with large chunky blocks. You look around realizing it is just you, naked, aside from your small kimono that you pull over your shoulders for comfort. You are standing there alone, all by yourself, with no idea where you are or how you got there.

Masterlist

Coming Soon:

Part 2: The New Master

Part 3: The Uchiha Slut

[edenmemes]

asoiaf: clash of kings starters

❝ people often claim to hunger for truth,   but seldom like the taste when it's served up. ❞ ❝ the brightest flame casts the darkest shadow. ❞ ❝ lawless men are everywhere in this dark time. men with cold steel and colder hearts. ❞ ❝ there's no shame in fear, my father told me, what matters is how we face it. ❞ ❝ he who hurries through life hurries to his grave. ❞ ❝ if half an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. a man is good or he is evil. ❞ ❝ some men are like swords, made for fighting. hang them up and they go to rust. ❞ ❝ sometimes i feel as though you are the best friend i have and sometimes i feel you are my worst enemy. ❞ ❝ i want to weep. i want to be comforted. i’m so tired of being strong. ❞ ❝ crowns do strange things to the heads beneath them. ❞ ❝ i see a deep sadness written upon your face. could it be the sadness of a lost dream? ❞ ❝ this is not you, not your way. you were always just, always hard yet never cruel. ❞ ❝ if you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words. ❞ ❝ how i have yearned for the sound of your sweet voice. ❞ ❝ i do not like being lied to. leave me out of your next deception. ❞ ❝ i will hurt you for this. i don't know how yet, but give me time. a day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid. ❞ ❝ there are no men like me. there’s only me. ❞ ❝ i will not claim to bear you any great love, no, but i cannot hate you either. ❞ ❝ the only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. ❞ ❝ there is a sweet innocence about you. ❞ ❝ mercy. that’s a bloody trap. too much and they call you weak, too little and you’re monstrous. ❞ ❝ it is better to be seen as cruel than foolish. ❞ ❝ i’ve waited for you, oh, so many times. now you must wait for me. ❞ ❝ no one has ever died of restlessness, but rashness is another matter. ❞ ❝ i’m not a child, to be soothed with empty promises. ❞ ❝ only blood can wash out blood. ❞ ❝ don’t ever touch me, or i’ll kill you. ❞ ❝ we have leagues to go, and dangers to face. you will need your strength. ❞ ❝ i cannot sleep at night for thinking of your beauty. ❞ ❝ so many vows...they make you swear and swear. defend the king. obey the king. keep his secrets. do his bidding. your life for his. but obey your father. love your sister. protect the innocent. defend the weak. obey the laws. it’s too much. no matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other. ❞ ❝ somehow i have a feeling i am not going to like what you’re about to say. ❞ ❝ kings have no friends. only subjects and enemies. ❞ ❝ you must be still, you are grievously hurt. you will do yourself great injury. ❞ ❝ your heart is noble, but learn a lesson here. we cannot set the world to rights. ❞ ❝ i mean to be a king, and not of a broken kingdom. ❞ ❝ when i make threats, you’ll know it. ❞ ❝ do you want me dead? is that it? the truth now. ❞ ❝ this time i have to find my own way, and it is hard. so hard. ❞ ❝ i am afraid, but i must be brave. ❞ ❝ it grieves me that it must come to this. ❞ ❝ the kingdom bleeds, and no one lifts a sword to defend it. ❞ ❝ we shall see who is laughing when all of this is done. ❞ ❝ the unseen enemy is always the most fearsome. ❞ ❝ would you like one? you’ve never tasted anything so sweet, i promise you.❞ ❝ i knew a man once who told me i smiled at the wrong things. ❞ ❝ i would be glad to leave this city, if truth be told. ❞ ❝ there is an empty place within me where my heart was once. ❞ ❝ men like that...too honest to live, too noble to shit. ❞ ❝ if truth be told, i’ve never liked you. ❞ ❝ song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. ❞ ❝ only a fool humbles himself when the world is so full of men eager to do that job for him. ❞ ❝ the storms come and go, the waves crash overhead, the big fish eat the little fish, and i keep on paddling. ❞ ❝ mountains rise and fall, rivers change their courses, stars fall from the sky, and great cities sink beneath the sea. even gods die, we think. everything changes. ❞ ❝ i will not be mocked to my face, do you hear me? i will not! ❞ ❝ most sellswords would betray anyone for enough gold. ❞ ❝ tell me that none of this troubles you...and i’ll name you a liar. ❞ ❝ was there ever a war where only one side bled? ❞ ❝ great wrongs have been done you, but the past is dust. the future may yet be won. ❞ ❝ i am growing strangely fond of you.   i may kill you yet, but i think i’d feel sad about it. ❞ ❝ ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow. ❞ ❝ courage and folly are cousins, or so i’ve heard. ❞ ❝ a curious way of fighting. it looks suspiciously like hiding. ❞ ❝ whatever enemy waits out here will not find us so easy to deal with. ❞ ❝ love is poison. a sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same. ❞ ❝ schemes are like fruit, they require a certain ripening. ❞ ❝ i can smell the fear on you. ❞ ❝ when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. ❞ ❝ no royal is ever late. those who arrive before them have come early, that’s all. ❞ ❝ power resides where men believe it resides. no more and no less. ❞ ❝ you would not force me to reveal all my little secrets, would you? ❞ ❝ sorcery is the sauce fools spoon over failure to hide the flavor of their own incompetence. ❞ ❝ there are ghosts everywhere. we carry them with us wherever we go. ❞ ❝ you stop feeling, you stop thinking, you stop being you, there is only the fight, the foe, this man and then the next and the next and the next. ❞ ❝ terrible times breed terrible things. ❞ ❝ i do not beg. of anyone. mind you remember that. ❞ ❝ betray me, and you’ll wish you hadn’t. ❞ ❝ i do not require your understanding. only your service. ❞ ❝ would that bones could talk. this fellow could tell us much. how he died. ❞ ❝ the wide world is full of people wanting help. would that some could find the courage to help themselves. ❞ ❝ a frightened man is a beaten man. ❞ ❝ the ones who look the most suspicious are likely innocent. it's the ones who look innocent i need to beware. ❞ ❝ it is peaceful here, but for how long? ❞ ❝ the man who kills his own blood is cursed forever in the sights of gods and men. ❞ ❝ a sweet dream. now put it aside, i beg you. it can never be. ❞ ❝ you’re as bad an omen as any raven. ❞ ❝ this is no game, so don’t play the child with me. ❞ ❝ my life is a poor thing, but it is yours. ❞ ❝ they will not love me, you say? when have they ever loved me? how can i lose something i have never owned? ❞ ❝ they're all afraid of me. no one will hurt you again, or i'd kill them. ❞ ❝ i had begun to fear for you. did you meet with trouble? ❞ ❝ i grow ever more admiring of you. ❞ ❝ i’d sooner hold a wine goblet than a battle-axe. ❞ ❝ a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition. ❞ ❝ if you have something to say, say it. ❞ ❝ how can i do my duty if i do not know where it lies?❞ ❝ don’t look at me, not...not like this...not you. ❞ ❝ i’ve broken laws, but i’ve never felt evil until tonight. ❞ ❝ are you here to serve me? or to vex me with arguments? ❞ ❝ men do not love me. they follow me because they fear me. ❞ ❝ why would people run off and leave their homes and everything? what could scare them so much? ❞ ❝ fear cuts deeper than swords. ❞ ❝ let us not get into the habit of names. names are dangerous. ❞ ❝ i do not relish being played for a fool. ❞ ❝ you have said nothing that requires forgiveness. ❞ ❝ perhaps you are wiser than i knew. ❞ ❝ a good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. each should have its own reward. ❞ ❝ you set us a battle we cannot hope to win. ❞ ❝ learn to use your ears more and your mouth less. ❞ ❝ sleep a bit. when you wake, all this will seem a bad dream. ❞ ❝ why should men fight and die for you? ❞ ❝ fuck your questions. you’ll choke on them before you get any answers from me. ❞ ❝ i am certain of nothing in this fickle and treacherous world. ❞ ❝ a good lord comforts and protects the weak and helpless. ❞ ❝ is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it? ❞ ❝ look around you. they’re all liars here...and every one better than you. ❞ ❝ i have a role to play, and you must do the same. ❞ ❝ sadly, no victory is without cost. ❞ ❝ this is evil, unthinkable...please, listen to me. ❞ ❝ is that what troubles you, that some fool call you cowardly? ❞ ❝ you must forgive me if i have spoken to you harshly in the past. ❞ ❝ a sweet offer...yet sweets can be poisoned. ❞ ❝ how beautiful you look tonight. ❞ ❝ the day is won, and yet you do not smile. the living should smile, for the dead cannot. ❞ ❝ the time for talk is done. now we see who is stronger. ❞ ❝ i am no stranger to nightmares. ❞ ❝ so much villainy; it sings a sad song for our age. did honour die with our fathers? ❞ ❝ some men are born to be killed. ❞ ❝ come if you like, but if you can’t keep up, don’t think that i’ll nurse you along. ❞ ❝ i will kill him. i swear it. i swear it. ❞ ❝ this is madness, but sooner madness than defeat. defeat is death and shame. ❞ ❝ does it give you joy to scare people? ❞ ❝ when i require your counsel i shall ask for it. ❞ ❝ will you put away your blade? ❞ ❝ need an escort? the talk is, the streets are dangerous. ❞ ❝ it is ill to keep a lady waiting. ❞ ❝ kneeling won’t save you now. stand up. ❞ ❝ you’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you? why? ❞ ❝ do you think i wish to be here? ❞ ❝ don’t you know how i have cared for you, lived for you, loved you despite all? ❞ ❝ see, there is nothing to fear. ❞ ❝ you have a cheerful way of grieving. ❞ ❝ a dream, that’s all it was. it meant nothing. ❞ ❝ a dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats. ❞ ❝ the gods give with one hand and take with the other. ❞ ❝ only a man like you would be proud of such an act. ❞ ❝ i cannot answer for the gods. ❞ ❝ it’s swords i need, not blessings. ❞ ❝ you look very lovely today. ❞ ❝ they said you were dead. ❞ ❝ all sorts of people are calling themselves kings these days. ❞ ❝ you need me, whether you care to admit it or no. ❞ ❝ be quiet and kiss me. ❞

[idkyetxoxo]

Seven | Allure | The Last Kingdom

"He just loves burning things," 

"He would love hell." 

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───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

Standing beside Finan and a now recovered Osferth, we awaited Uhtred's arrival. "Sihtric has left with the prisoners," Finan revealed once again, and Uhtred nodded in acknowledgement. I couldn't shake the feeling that this for some reason didn't surprise him, he accepted it too easily.

His gaze flickered to me. "I am sorry, I know how you felt about Dagfinn," Uhtred offered, his voice tinged with remorse. I simply shrugged, masking the turmoil churning within.

Internally, I felt a profound sense of betrayal. Sihtric had once been among those who defended me from Dagfinn, yet now, his decision to join their side felt like a knife to the chest.

"I know how to break the curse, but reaching Skade is a near-impossible task," Uhtred continued, his words laden with the weight of uncertainty. I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Sihtric's departure has unsettled the men, they blame you," Finan disclosed, his expression grave as his voice quieted towards the end of his statement. "Some may not want to go looking for her again, rightfully so," I said, acknowledging the legitimacy of their concerns.

"What about Ragnar?" I asked quietly, pulling Uhtred aside as the others granted us a moment of privacy. His gaze met mine, a solemn understanding passing between us as we delved into the depths of our shared sorrow.

"A blade must be wet with Ragnar's blood, and with that blade, the man who killed him must be killed," he revealed, his voice tinged with a somber resolve. A flicker of relief washed over me, knowing that Ragnar's restless spirit would find solace in the halls of Valhalla.

"That way Ragnar will be free to enter Valhalla," Uhtred continued, his words carrying the weight of our collective grief. "We will use my blood," I offered, determination coursing through my veins. Yet, his suggestion caught me off guard.

"Yours or Thyra's," he proposed. "I will do it. It's the least I can do after the pain I caused him," I demanded, my voice heavy with regret and longing.

Uhtred's hand found the back of my neck, drawing me close until our foreheads touched. "We will do it together, the man who took Ragnar from us will pay," he vowed, his words a solemn pledge of justice and retribution.

As Uhtred departed to confer with Aethelflaed, a sense of purpose enveloped him, his resolve unwavering in the face of adversity. With a speech prepared, he rallied his men, his words resonating with the clarity of purpose and determination. In that moment, the fractured bonds of loyalty were restored, united in their pursuit of vengeance and redemption.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

Uhtred, Finan, Osferth, and I rode into a village nestled deep within Daneland's heart. Approached by Guthlac, the thegn of the village, we requested nothing more than food, shelter, and a tankard of ale. His reluctance to host us was evident, especially when he insisted we surrender our weapons with our horses, an offer we vehemently refused.

Our tenure in the alehouse proved short-lived. I reclined, kicking my feet up on the table and tilting my head back as Uhtred delineated our predicament. Guthlac's allegiance to the Danes meant imminent danger. He warned of impending attacks and offered an ultimatum, yield, and our men would be spared. I couldn't help but emit a dry laugh at the sheer audacity of Guthlac's proposal.

As Uhtred ascended the stairs, crashing through the roof, he commanded Osferth to pass him the torches. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Finan remarked, "He just loves burning things," while Osferth quipped, "He would love hell" as they set about obeying his demands. 

The conversation caught me off guard, and I sputtered on my ale, laughter erupting from within as I struggled to regain my composure.

Amidst the distraction outside, we slipped away. Guthlac's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as Uhtred shook his head. 

"Allow me the honor," I offered, a sardonic smile curling my lips. Stepping forward, I deftly spun my dagger in the air before plunging it into Guthlac's chest, a sense of satisfaction flooding through me. With a reminder to the villagers of their allegiance to the Lady of Mercia, we departed, leaving behind a village changed by our visit.

The four of us concealed ourselves in the nearby woods as the Danes descended upon the village. 

"Sihtric," Osferth spoke up, his voice tinged with uncertainty and I turned around only to face him, his expression betraying a weighty revelation. "You have something to say to me, boy?" Uhtred's tone was solemn, his gaze piercing through the shadows.

"I do," Sihtric declared, drawing his sword and pointing it towards Uhtred. "Yield to me," he commanded, his words hanging heavy in the air. I scoffed, instinctively reaching for my dagger in response.

Uhtred raised his hands, dropping his weapon to the ground. My brow furrowed in confusion as Sihtric smirked, lowering his sword before enveloping Uhtred in a hearty embrace. Laughter echoed through the woods, mingling with the tension that lingered among us.

"You were playing us. My goodness, they were playing us. Why?" Osferth's voice quivered with disbelief, his confusion mirroring my own. I shook my head in disbelief, returning my dagger to its sheath.

Uhtred's laughter broke through the tension. "If you had not believed it, Osferth, neither would others," he explained, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I fooled you," Sihtric chimed in, a jubilant grin lighting up his features.

"No, I knew," Finan interjected, his resolve unwavering. "No, you did not. Was I good?" Sihtric teased, prompting laughter.

"I'm telling you, I knew" Finan persisted. Sihtric's gaze met mine, his expression shifting. I met his gaze briefly before turning away, retracing my steps towards the others. 

Despite the ruse, his words had struck a chord of truth. A reminder of his ill intended feelings towards me. The release of Dagfinn remained a reality, its repercussions lingering, collateral or not the damage was done.

The echo of his footsteps trailing behind me was impossible to ignore. Seated beneath the sheltering canopy of a tree, I griped my blood-stained dagger tightly, my knuckles turning white with the force of my anger, I refused to meet his gaze as his figure loomed over me.

"I just..." he started, his voice faltering before he let the words die on his lips.

"It's all right," I interjected, my tone devoid of emotion. "You managed to fool us, well done." The words tasted bitter on my tongue, a sharp acknowledgment of his deceit.

I watched as he sighed, a heavy weight of resignation settling over him. I could sense his guilt and remorse. However, the damage had been done. With a flick of my wrist, I cleaned my dagger on the grass, the rhythmic motion a contrast to the chaos raging within my soul.

"Don't worry," I added, my tone clipped, yet resolute, "I still meant what I said. You're still the real problem to me, at least." I held his gaze.

Looking back up at him, I didn't miss the subtle shift in his expression. His face contorted momentarily, betraying a mix of emotions, from remorse to stoicism. His hand wandered to his jaw, a nervous habit that spoke volumes.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he turned away and returned to the group.

Sihtric conveyed the news that Bloodhair had met his death, leaving only Haesten at the camp's helm. Skade, the bearer of Bloodhair's fate, knew of Uhtred's promise to shadow walk, yet the camp bristled with guards, rendering the task perilous. 

However, a sliver of opportunity emerged. Skade was granted the liberty to gather grass and herbs near a solitary tree on the far side of the camp.

Uhtred, seizing the moment, instructed Sihtric to convey his proximity to Skade and to bring her by the designated tree.

Guided by Sihtric, Skade joined us beneath the sheltering boughs of the tree, and the six of us stealthily retreated as Haestan's forces stirred in response to our presence. Sihtric deftly led us to the dock, where we launched a calculated assault on the guards.

In the heat of the skirmish, one of the guards lunged for Skade. Despite harboring a fervent desire for her demise, I knew Uhtred would not sanction such an act. In that crucial moment, my instincts kicked in, propelling me into action to shield her from harm's way.

The clash of metal rang out as the Dane's attention swiftly shifted towards me, his axe whistling through the air with deadly precision. Reacting with lightning reflexes, I countered the impending strike, the steel of my dagger finding its mark in his leg. But victory came at a cost, his blade grazed my ribs, tearing through fabric and flesh alike, a searing pain erupting through my body like wildfire. 

Blood blossomed across my garments, staining them crimson but I pressed on, unleashing a forceful kick that sent the Dane hurtling into the murky waters below, a splash marking his descent into defeat.

With resolve, I set foot upon the ship, the wooden deck beneath my feet a sanctuary. As the sails unfurled, carrying us away from the scene of conflict, I cast a defiant gaze towards Haestan, his frustration etched upon his face like ancient runes. 

With a smirk, I couldn't resist the urge to mock him, punctuating with a kiss blown in his direction and a small wave.

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

love a bit of miscommunication x

[inquisitornocturn]

◇─ 𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖎 𝖊𝖙 𝖆𝖒𝖆 𝖒𝖊 ─◇

⚜ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Abelard Werserian x Rogue Trader!reader

⚜ 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: we fuck old men in this house lol, comfort, fluff, so much fluff (by my standard), guess what consent can be sexy, smut, body worship, cunnilingus, PiV, creampie, even more fluff at the end

⚜ 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: So much has changed since you have taken the title of a Rogue Trader and the worries just don't seem to stop. Day after day something keeps happening. More casualties, more damages, more things to do before your dynasty falls apart at the seams. And one person who you hope can comprehend the pressure you're under, do not seem to understand that you could use just one moment of reprieve. Until you make him understand.

⚜ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 7,740 | on AO3

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: okay, full disclosure, i don't know how the first fic i'm posting for this fandom is Abelard and not Xavier or even Heinrix. he is in my top three for sure, but i fully expected myself posting something for the other two before Abelard and yet this is very much happening. i will reiterate my tags by saying - we fuck old men in this house and that's on that. on a side note - i have been also horribly enabled by @liocreates and @nananarc. Emperor sees that not only my flesh but also my mind is weak, so here we are, i am officially stepping into the fandom with probably the sweetest smut i have ever written. enjoy♡~

“Lord Captain.” Abelard’s voice punches through the cloud of your thoughts that seem almost physical in how much they fog your head.

No, not right now, you don’t want to hear whatever it is he wants to tell you.

Your trusted Seneschal, your most experienced advisor, your right hand man who became such within mere weeks of you taking the title of a Rogue Trader, however abruptly it have come to you. Too many things, too many loses, too many tasks need to be accomplished before your bloody inheritance of a voidship falls apart. Again.

Supplies, crew, the vessel needs repairs. If it can even last that long, until your spacecraft arrives at Footfall dock after you battled some xenos when defending one of the worlds that now belong to you, and even then – if she can survive the journey itself. And then there’s Kunrad and his betrayal that still are causing ripple-like effect over everything, and your aforementioned abrupt claim of a title, with mutinies simmering just at the surface line, tethering the edge of begrudging obedience and outright treason. All because Theodora was killed and you took up the mantle.

“Lord Captain.”

Abelard calls again and you clamp your palms to your ears, not wanting to hear it. You had your eyes closed since the moment first officer entered your study and found you behind your desk, piles of reports and several dataslates towering with their mountainous workloads. Two cups of recaf, neither of them warm or finished, balancing the edge of a desk and a servo skull that slowly but ceaselessly keeps printing a strip of parchment, the needle-like pen etching tiny black words in every possible centimeter of the white canvas.

Footsteps, and you lower your head, shaking your head slightly.

“Not now, Abelard. Please.” You say in a strained tone and footsteps stop, a second pass, then they resume. “Abelard, please.” Last word comes out nearly as a choked sob as you battle your exhaustion, your anxiety and your overwhelming desire to shut yourself in an airlock and have a servitor press the release button.

You can’t cope, not anymore. There hasn’t been a moment of peace ever since damned Voigtvir treason made your entire world turn upside down twice over.

“Lord Captain.” Third time’s the charm they say, but not tonight. Even though Abelard’s tone sounds softer, he’s no more successful in making you look at him than previous two times.

Having nothing else to say you just shake your head again in a silent plea for him to walk away and give you a moment, an evening, of reprieve from things constantly going wrong. This can’t be life of a Rogue Trader, can it? You heard of luxuries and parties, of admiration and battles, of claiming planets and bringing Emperor’s light upon the corners of the galaxy. This – is the farthest thing from stories that you have heard before Theodora got you brought to this ship.

More footsteps, this time to the side, and you hear glass clinking, liquid pouring, more glass sounds, then more footsteps and then – a hand on your shoulder than makes you flinch ever so slightly. Startled and with your heart beating much faster now, you rise your head and lower your hands, looking at Abelard who is standing by your side with a soft look in his eyes and a half-filled glass in his ring-adorned fingers.

“A drink might be in order, Lord Captain?” More of a question rather than him insisting you take the offering, but you do so gladly, your fingers brushing against Abelard’s when you take the glass, making you turn your eyes away.

What you wouldn’t do to have a warm embrace right now. It makes you ache in a way that you even miss your previous partner, who you dumped when he decided that joining Adeptus Mechanicus was his life calling. All of a sudden, just like that. And truth to be told, maybe it was he who dumped you and made up a lie so that you don’t feel as bad as you possibly could.

Still, in this moment, the loneliness of your life weights heavy on you. Too powerful for a casual chitchat, too respected to share a drink with, too blessed by the God-Emperor for a simple hug. Unless you order someone, but you find little comfort in seeking human contact in such way. Very little indeed, so that even this small touch with the man who you trust with your life is making you yearn for something more, a moment of peace that you know won’t happen.

“Thank you, Abelard.” Is all you murmur in response and the senior officer nods, making a step aside, but observing you keenly, watching you take a first tentative sip, then another, and a third that you swallow with a brief closing of your eyes.

“You seem exhausted, Lord Captain.” This time it’s a fact that is spoken out loud and you manage a crooked smile when you gaze up at the man.

“You think so?” You can’t help the sarcasm in your voice and Abelard’s eyebrows furrow slightly, then he scoffs and clears his throat.

“That’s quite obvious, Your Ladyship. Maybe you should get some rest.”

“Maybe I should, but…” You trail off and your gaze sweeps over the piles of reports, the same dataslates, two of which are silently blinking with unread messages like vile daemons winking at you in an attempt of foul seduction. You even make an effort to give a pointed look to the servoskull, still printing the strip of paper that has already accumulated a nice pile underneath it on the carpet.

“You have your officers, let us help you.” Abelard sounds positively serious and steps back to your side, reaching for the nearest winking eye of the dataslate, rings on his fingers glimmering in a soft light of illumination in the room, but your own hand darts out almost on reflex and grabs his wrist.

“It’s fine, I just need a moment to catch my breath and I can continue.” As you speak you feel Seneschal’s pulse under your fingers, thrumming in a slow, relaxed rhythm.

Abelard pauses, giving you a look of poorly disguised concern and he heaves a sigh.

“Generally, I would appreciate stubbornness in Lord Captain’s attitude, but you are going to run yourself haggard if you don’t allocate your duties, at least partially, to those serving you.” He doesn’t pull his hand away and in this moment you are grateful for it. Not only for the warmth of Abelard’s skin in your grip, but for another small contact with a human being.

Whether he already caught on that you yearn for it or not, is impossible to tell and you prefer if he didn’t know. You don’t want him to pity you even more, even if you might deserve it with how you are currently feeling.

“I will, just… not tonight. I will finish what I have to do and tomorrow I shall see what can be done.” Offering a small smile you finally let go of the Seneschal’s wrist and he remains quiet for a second, then sighs again and leans over the desk, flipping the blinking slates so that their screens stop flashing.

“You need a good night’s sleep, Your Ladyship, not more duties to keep you up until the late hours.” Undercurrent of softness in Abelard’s voice does not elude you and corners of your mouth twitch ever so slightly.

“Maybe not, but I worry that the vessel…” You can’t finish the sentence and you don’t need to, Abelard knows the situation after the space battle as well as you do. “I will sleep better when we manage to arrive at Footfall.”

“And we will.” Firmness in Abelard’s tone catches you by surprise and you look at him again only for your eyes to meet his. “Lord Captain, while I would be the first to tell that a healthy dose of paranoia is needed and even necessary for a Rogue Trader, I have to remind that you also need to think about your wellbeing. Millions of people depend on you and none of your subjects wish you to fall ill with worry or stress.”

“You sound worried yourself.” You manage another crooked smile but Abelard’s stern eye remains affixed on you with an unwavering look.

“I am. For you.”

The ancient chrono by your personal cogitator is the only one making sounds as you both look at each other and you finally give in, buckling under the intense gaze of a Seneschal’s grey eye. Your shoulders slump a little and you look at your glass, then sigh in capitulation.

“Very well. If you so wish for me to take a step back, then share a drink with me. I could use some company.”

Before Abelard has a chance to object or try to find a way to remain his usual stoic self, you stand, your massive chair slipping easily over the floor and forcing the Seneschal to step backwards from you.

“Lord Captain-“

“No lord captains, Abelard.” After a brief pause you add with defeat and resignation. “This is an order.”

There’s no mistaking the solemn tone in your voice as you issue your command and Abelard hesitates, but you do see him give you a curt nod with a corner of your eye while you walk around the desk to the right where a big, wooden couch is pushed against a wall, only a column separating it and the chrono.

When you approach the near ancient furniture piece, noticing that the padding has been replaced recently (most likely to remove Mort’s blood that was splattered on it on the night Theodora died), you sit, realizing that until now you haven’t done it. Couple weeks passed with so much happening that a simple act of sitting on a couch in your own study didn’t even occur to you. Not that you had any reason to do so until now.

Sounds of the decanter reach you when Abelard pours himself a drink and he makes an effort to look in your direction. It’s not hard to decipher his inquisitory glance and you nod, watching the Seneschal carry the crystal pitcher towards you and refill your glass.

“Thank you.”

Gratefully you look down at the pale amber liquid and take a sip while Abelard walks back to reinstate the decanter back to its rightful spot and then return to you, hesitating for a long moment until he finally sits down, with respectable and polite distance between you two. It makes your heart sink, but you try not to show it and just lift your glass to the first officer and smile.

“Don’t look so sour, it’s just one drink. Cheers.”

“I’m not displeased, Lord Captain, just worried for your wellbeing.” Abelard responds and watches you keenly when you drink at the same time he does. “You need to rest instead of staying up, drinking.”

“For a man your age, I hoped that you can understand a need for some company.” You raise an eyebrow at him and Abelard looks like he’s about to argue with you, but then lets out an exhausted sigh and finally offers you a small smile of his own.

“That I do, Lord Captain. Although I’m sure you could find better company for a casual conversation other than me.”

“And who you would suggest then?” Your smile widens and you watch with delight as Abelard’s composure wavers in light of you pushing back against his self-deprecating sentiment.

“Well, you can ask anyone aboard to share a drink with you.” He says with a degree of hesitation and your smile becomes bitter on your lips.

“You mean I can order them and they won’t be able to refuse.”

“Those willing to refuse a Rogue Trader would be, pardon my language, idiots, Lord Captain.”

“But I don’t want to order people to have a drink or a chat with me, Abelard. Even if I had… to order you.” A smile on your face fades as it was never there to begin with and you sigh, your shoulders slumping once again and you look at the glass in your hand, swirling the liquid briefly.

The weight of reality is just too much for you right now. You used to have friends before this, comrades, people who joked with you and didn’t need to be commanded with a threat of execution looming above them if they even thought of refusing you. Where’s that camaraderie that you miss so much right now? You don’t know if you will experience the joy of having friends and allies like you had in the past. You knew that with power and duty - loneliness comes as well, you just couldn’t guess how all-encompassing that loneliness can get and how quickly it will get to you.

Now you know.

You don’t notice how long the silence lasts, but a quiet shuffle finally draws your attention and before you even see it, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Abelard slid across the couch a little closer so that he reaches you and offers you one compassionate gesture that he comfortably allows himself.

First you look at his hand, marred with scars from countless battles while serving the Imperial Navy and then Lady Theodora, before you look at his face again, noticing expressed worry in his features.

“Lord Captain…” He begins, hesitating and picking his words carefully, then gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze while warmth of his palm begins to seep through your clothes already. “Feeling a tad… isolated as a Rogue Trader is not an uncommon sentiment.” Abelard’s voice is even, steady, like bedrock. “But you will find allies worth sharing your private moments with. You found yourself in this new life quite recently. It is difficult right now, it’s just the beginning, I understand, but don’t let it get to you, Lord Captain. In due time you will have a network of worthy allies and trusted friends.”

“Are you not one of them?” You can’t help but ask, and wonder if your eyes betray just how hopefully you voiced your inquiry.

Abelard does see, clear as day and he sighs, smiling to you.

“Of course I am, but I’m your officer, your Seneschal. In the end – I am just your loyal servant, Lord Captain, and you deserve people who are your equals.”

You blink few times in surprise and swallow dryly, bringing the glass to your lips to wet your throat.

“You don’t think we’re equals?”

At this Abelard part laughs, part scoffs as if with humorous disbelief.

“I am but a soldier, Lord Captain, and you are a head of the von Valancius dynasty. There’s oceans of difference in rank between you and me.” Then after a pause, he gives your shoulder another comforting squeeze. “But that doesn’t mean that I do not enjoy serving Her Ladyship, even if that means sharing a drink during a late night.” Softness in Abelard’s voice makes you look at him again and you take another sip from your glass while your eyes search his for the truth. Does he say this because he means it or out of duty that you haven’t seen waver even once since you came aboard this spacecraft?

“That’s not exactly what I meant.” You admit and feel Abelard withdraw his hand. Again you capture his wrist and nearly let go immediately, but refuse your instinct of propriety take over, holding onto it like it’s a fragile lifeline keeping you from sinking into the waters of solace.

“I know what you meant, Lord Captain.” Abelard sighs, somehow not surprised that you are holding onto him again, but you should’ve suspected that a man of his long life and even greater experience would notice what’s amiss faster than you were willing to show. “But I don’t want you to look for camaraderie in your subjects, you will find men and women more worthy of your time than your servants.”

No, he doesn’t understand and a feeling akin to desperation grips you. You have to make him understand so you squeeze his wrist firmer and lean in his direction, making a point of holding eye contact even before you start speaking.

“You are my equal, Abelard. To me – you’re not just my servant. You’re my most trusted ally, you’re my Seneschal, you are… the only friend I have aboard this ship, or maybe in the entire galaxy.” Something begins to choke you as you finish and turning your eyes away you let go of his wrist, feeling that you just overstepped an invisible line. “Apologies.” You whisper and empty your glass, unable to look at Abelard in this moment.

You hear the man let out a heavy sigh and he too drinks some more, unsure of what to say. Seconds pass, then maybe a minute, with increasingly uncomfortable silence mounting while neither of you speak.

“I think I better return to those reports. And I promise to look into what tasks I can delegate to others tomorrow.” A smile, forced one, makes its way onto your face and you stand, but don’t get to fully finish your movement because Abelard’s grip prevents you from doing so, his fingers wrapping firmly around your own wrist this time.

You plop down onto the couch and look at him with mild worry and curiosity, even some reluctance because you don’t want to hear he might possibly want to say. Something about that you shouldn’t think of him as a friend, maybe that you shouldn’t be so trusting, but no, the Seneschal just looks slightly sad, like indeed he is pitying you.

“You may feel lonely, but you are not alone.” Abelard says quietly and that mysterious, but very overwhelming sensation of choking returns. You swallow once or twice, trying to push the ball of emotion beginning to strangle you. “I am honored to keep you company in your moments of need or those of celebration, but one day you will find your people, not those who have sworn to serve you or to protect you because of your elevated station, you will-“

You don’t want to listen to this anymore, sugary words and promises of things to come when you’re aching now. So you do something brave.

Brave and very very stupid.

Letting your empty glass drop onto the metal grate at your feet, but ignoring the sound of shattering crystal, you move forward and throw yourself against Abelard, wrapping your arms around him in a hug that leaves no room for you to disguise how much your entire body is shaking. You press your face to the cold steel plate of Seneschal’s armor and close your eyes so tightly, like you want to prevent them from ever opening again.

“Lord Captain!” Senior officer exclaims and stiffens in your embrace but when you don’t move you hear him sigh and place his glass somewhere to the side. “Lord Captain… This is very inappropriate.” He murmurs and yet after a moment of vacillation, when his duty versus his desire to comfort you battle, he at last slowly puts his arms around you as well.

You don’t respond, don’t want to and don’t need to. You just sit still, with your body against his and smell everything that is Abelard: a musk of his masculine perfume, faint scent of oil from his trusty chainsword, even fainter smell of his bathing products. He smells clean, strong and strangely reassuring. A scent of a hard working, loyal man in your retinue. It makes you feel safe and protected, even more compared to when the Seneschal stands by your side with his sword raised and a pistol aimed at anyone who wishes you harm.

“Do you feel any better, Lord Captain?” He asks after a long, wonderful moment passes and you breathe easier, smiling even if he cannot see it at the angle your head is pressed against his chest. It’s a genuine smile, relaxed one, the kind of smile you have near forgot how to smile with.

“Yes, thank you.” You whisper and Abelard lets out a relieved sigh, then strokes your back with one palm so caringly that you begin to crave for this hug to last forever.

But there’s more. You want more than this, you want to forget yourself or your new life even just for a moment longer, something that haven’t happened even once since that day when Kunrad’s betrayal shook the entire dynasty to its core. And you forget yourself.

You forget and you yearn.

When you lift your face to Abelard you see a comforting smile on his features, making his scarred face look even more handsome than usual. Before you can think better, before you can stop yourself, before you can even realize that what you’re doing is now truly stepping over any and all appropriate boundaries between a Rogue Trader and her Seneschal, you straighten your back and press your chest to Abelard’s, pushing him against the backrest of the couch. When his eyes widen in attempt to comprehend what are you doing, your face levels with his and your gaze betrays your intentions so clearly that the man has a hard time processing the sudden change.

“Lord Captain, what is…” Abelard trails off when you lean closely to him, so close that you sense his breath fawn over your skin and man’s arms around you flex for a moment as if unable to decide if to pull you off or draw you closer.

“Please, just this… one… thing…” You hear yourself speak in a whisper so quiet it’s barely voiced at all and you can’t stop yourself, your overwhelming need for more just takes complete control. With your hands steadying you with a grip on his sides, you lean to Abelard, closing whatever is left of the distance between you and him, and press your lips against his.

Even the chrono seems to stop counting seconds and you feel Abelard freeze in spot, his fingers twitching briefly while they are still on your back, then you pull away slightly and look at him from under your eyelashes. Has he always been so alluring? The cornerstone of your new life from the moment you stepped into your shiny, novel role. Why you haven’t seen Abelard for what a man he is until now?

But now that you have, you are unsure if you can stop yourself with just stealing a kiss, and how your Seneschal blushes, ever so slightly, how his eye is wide with disbelief at what you just did, how his lips, slightly glistening from being pressed to yours, quiver just before he speaks… yes, you want even more than just this and your body responds to your mind’s desire, lighting a flame within you that can only be quenched one way and one way only.

“Lord Captain, this is way out of the line of appropriate conduct! You absolutely cannot do this!” Abelard speaks and his voice does sound offended, yet his eyes glance to your lips and he doesn’t move to push you off.

“Do you not want me to do this?” You ask with a small smile, confident that he won’t refuse you, that you can break this man’s impeccable bearing and experience, just to see what kind of fire roars behind the closed gates of his perfect conduct.

“It’s now about one’s wishes, Lord Captain, and you very well know this. This is an utterly improper behavior for a Lady of your status and as my direct superior!” And yet he still doesn’t dare pushing you off, only glances down when you rise one hand, caressing downwards his breastplate, then find the buckle of the straps holding it together. Soft sound of metal as you undo the clasp fills the temporary silence and you bite your bottom lip briefly.

“Maybe I’d like to know your wishes, Abelard. Do they include more than just pure duty? I hope they do.” You whisper and lean closer, watching Seneschal’s face become a shade redder when your palm slides under the steel plate now that it has been loosened and stroke his chest through his coat.

“My… wishes?” For a second he’s caught up in your gaze which is clearly showing your desire and the man considers you for a moment longer while you feel his heart beating harder against his ribcage. His eyes sweep down your face, noticing your own soft blush and your parted lips, enchanting him like an invitation.

It’s been so long he felt this… wanted. This desired. This much needed, and Abelard tries to grapple with his self-control, reminding himself of duty, of honor, how utterly infelicitous it would be if he responded to your advances. And yet the stirrings in his loins and the beat of his heart makes him yearn in return. Maybe if he allowed himself just another little kiss. Maybe, he can stop before it gets completely out of hand. Clearly his Lord Captain is in need for consolation and the Seneschal is not sure if he has the heart to deny you.

“My wishes remain the same.” He finally speaks again, the fingers on your back twitch again ever so slightly and move as Abelard’s fingertips begin to trace your spine so slowly you wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t completely still. “I wish for your wellbeing, Lord Captain.” And yet, despite his words, there’s that undercurrent you have been hoping for – the one of poorly controlled desire.

A widower who might as well have forgotten how a woman’s touch feels like. Are you the first since his wife’s passing to show interest in a man like him? The answer doesn’t matter, because when you inhale, preparing to respond, to push his limits of self-control a little further, your command over the entire situation gets usurped in a way you have no wish to protest – Abelard kisses you after quickly craning his neck while his hand at the same time press against your back, pushing you against him.

Just a kiss, you both tell to yourselves, just a moment of weakness and desire for closeness. It doesn’t have to go further than that, lead to anything more than this, to break protocols of conduct or rank, and yet it grows… the passion.

You are lost in this reciprocated kiss, your lips parting and letting Abelard in to taste liquor on your tongue just as you can taste it on his and you press yourself against the officer even firmer, control slipping like sand through your fingers. Abelard is not immune either, because one hand moves from your spine to cradle the back of your head as he deepens the kiss even more, expertly making your own heart thunder in your chest with how much passion he’s pouring into this seemingly simple exchange. Your breath hitches and you gently push against the Seneschal’s chest, parting your lips in exchange for deep breaths that mingle with his own labored panting.

One last chance to stop before this gets completely out of control and you destroy it with your hand as if you’re wiping off a fog from a mirror by placing a palm on his crotch and feeling a needy hardness there, just as you wished for.

“Abelard…” You whisper, pouring all the unsaid words into the syllables of his name and the man responds by conquering your mouth with another deep kiss.

“My Lady…” He utters against your lips in turn and you hope with all hope that he doesn’t stop because you don’t know if you can return from this until you reach the very end.

There’s no risk of Abelard stopping now though, because when the kiss breaks again he stands, for a brief moments startling you that he indeed will walk off, maybe even without a word, just to preserve whatever dignity he imagines he needs to save on your behalf, but no, with a huff he kneels in front of you and places his palms on your thighs. With upturned face your Seneschal pauses as you try to catch your breath.

“Lord Captain… Forgive me.” He says in a quiet, almost reverent voice, but then slides his hands higher and begins to undo your coat. You watch him unfasten two buttons before you caress the side of his face, careful of the augmetic connections to his bionic eye.

“Don’t apologize. Unless you want to walk away.”

“No, I… I don’t. I just hope neither of us will regret it.” He mutters and you see a shadow of worry slip across his otherwise determined expression and you make him pause, lifting his face to you by the chin.

“I know I won’t.” You assure Abelard and he shows a small, but confident smirk to you.

“Then neither will I, Lord Captain.”

You lean lower and place a nearly innocuous kiss to his lips, wanting him to return to your side on the couch, but he has other ideas and Abelard lets the kiss break so that he can continue undoing your coat. Once that is done, your jacket follows and then, your shirt. You notice a slight tremble in the officer’s fingers as he works one button after another, but his face betrays eager anticipation rather than reluctance, so you don’t mention it, just watch Abelard’s expression as he finally parts the edges of fabric that hid you from him until this very moment.

A breath hitches in his throat and Abelard pauses, tracing fingertips over your stomach, higher, around your bra-clad breasts until he cups them fully with both palms.

“Holy Terra…” He whispers, making you smile with a satisfied and warm smile that he doesn’t see because Abelard is too focused on your body. Again, with just fingertips, he grazes the mounds of your breasts and hesitates, but only to make up his mind between diving in and peppering your skin with kisses or undoing your bra entirely.

He chooses the latter.

A brief glance to your face as if to assure himself that you still very much need him just as he needs you and Abelard moves his hands to the alleyway of your breasts where the clasp resides, hiding what little decorum you still have left. No words are spoken when he undoes the mechanism and carefully, like a worshiper handling a holy relic, he peels the thin layer of your bra. You hear him audibly inhale when your breasts, released from their lacy prison, rise with each of your breaths.

“By the Emperor’s grace…” Abelard whispers again, not able to help himself and without hesitation or a second of pause he leans in and presses his lips against your chest, to your collarbone, forcing you to lean backwards against the backrest of the couch and tip your head upwards.

You mutter his name like a quiet prayer and run your fingers through his short, grey hair, letting your eyelids close and his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he doesn’t hold onto you. Slowly, gently, his kisses a trail lower, back to the mounds of your breasts, giving attention to each equally all the while his trimmed beard leaves your skin tingling where it rubs against you. He whispers your name, so quietly it almost escapes your notice and you forget it completely when suddenly your right nipple is engulfed in the heat of Abelard’s mouth, accompanied by gentle sucking that increases when you respond with a soft mewl.

With fingers still clutching the Seneschal’s hair, you lower your chin to watch him lavish attention onto your breasts, not taking too long to move onto the second and elicit more soft moans out of you, especially after he tests your limits and pulls at the left one with his teeth before releasing it and making you squirm where you sit. A confident smile, one that you haven’t seen on your trusted advisor, appears on his face, in tandem with a look in his eye that tells you that all the titles and ranks are now forgotten until later notice.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers against your skin, leaving your saliva lathered nipples to cool in the room’s air while he leans down again, kissing between your breasts, and again traveling lower while with a firm grip he supports you just under your ribcage, pulling at your waist and making your back arch.

You don’t know what to say or even if you need to say anything at all, but you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation while Abelard takes his time to unbuckle your belt and unzip your pants. A glance up and your eyes meet, a shared desire reflected in them, then you finally let go of his hair to prop yourself and lift your hips for him to peel your pants down your legs. Just for a moment he halts, then drags your panties together with your trousers. Buckles of boots get less time spent on them and then you’re naked in front of him, with a heat pulsing between your pressed legs.

Still on his knees, Abelard gently takes an ankle of your right leg and leans down pressing a chaste kiss on top of it, then begins trailing more of them upwards, to your knee, then over your thigh, all while his hands slide upwards the sides of your legs, following his rise. After a moment his hands slip to your knees and Seneschal rises his eyes to you, pure lust reflecting in them so much it makes you swallow, your own desire flaring up to match his.

“Don’t be shy, Lord Captain, let me see.” Gruffness in Abelard’s voice yields you even wetter than you were up until this point and you feel him pull your knees apart, to which you submit and grip the edge of the couch, seeing your arousal shamelessly smeared on your inner thighs.

Abelard inhales at the sight and you watch him involuntarily swallow, just like you did a second ago, and then he leans in, pressing his tongue to your drenched folds. You let out a moan as you inhale with sudden new sensation instantaneously clouding your mind and again grip his hair, then cup the back of his head when Abelard wantonly laps at your core, tip of his tongue slipping easily between each fold until it teases your entrance at which you mewl again.

“Abelard, Emperor…” You huff as he slides his tongue as deep into you as he can, as if wanting to taste your very essence, everything that makes up your desire for him, but he doesn’t linger, first brushing his upper lip over your swollen clit until his tongue follows, moving in circles and making you gasp with each breath you take.

Your fingers in his hair tremble as you watch your Seneschal lap at you like a man starved and you shudder each time he presses his tongue flat against the bundle of nerves that shoots a jolt through your spine with increasing euphoria. You mutter his name again, calling for him with a siren song he cannot resist. Abelard very much would like to see you come apart like this, to feel your thighs tremble against his ears and clamp over them as you shake with your climax, but he knows that he can make you feel so much more if he doesn’t rush. So he lifts his head, licking his lips clean after tasting the sweetest ambrosia you could have offered to him, and finally rises from his knees, gripping your hips with firm grasp and maneuvering you onto the couch and onto your back.

You reach up, wanting to remove at least some of his clothing that the officer is still wearing, but with one knee between your parted legs, to prevent you from closing them and hiding the most inviting view, Abelard begins to swiftly undress. Practiced movements of his fingers unfasten the clasps of his breastplate, placing it by the couch before he undoes his coat and shirt underneath. Your eyes roam his chest, still toned from battle and active lifestyle that he lives even under your command, and your fingers trace the top of it, slipping down over the grey chest hair that you so desire to be held against.

Abelard can see the passion and desire in your face, but he doesn’t need any more proof that you want him and only him, he got that confirmed when he felt your twitches and heard your moans just earlier while on his knees.

“Wider.” He softly says despite his tone having a layer of coarseness from his own need, and you spread your legs further apart for him while Abelard swiftly, in curt movements, undoes his belt, then his pants, finally showing you as much of himself as he is seeing of you.

You inhale sharply when you see Seneschal’s desire for you on full display and your eyes travel the length of his cock, from the root that is surrounded by neatly trimmed hair, then along the shaft, to the tip that is already weeping for you. You. You are having this effect on a man who you’ve come to know having steel-like resolve and composure.

While you swallow at the sight of Abelard’s hardness swinging gently but with heaviness, he slides a knee under your left thigh, keeping one foot down on the floor and his hands caress your breasts, ghosting over them at first, as if he’s too afraid to touch you again, but then his gaze washes over you like a scorching wave, seeing moistness seep out of you and downwards, last bits of restraint that he might has still been clinging to evaporate like a morning mist.

He grasps your breasts, massaging them while your fingers slide down to his abdomen and lower, then you take the slightly twitching length into your hands, giving it couple slow strokes that makes you moan softly. You want to feel him inside you and you can barely stop yourself from begging. Thankfully, Abelard does not have a mind to prolong this more than he already has. After playfully pinching your nipples and making you cry out, he grips the base of his cock, waiting just a moment longer for you to release it before aligning it with your entrance and beginning to slide in.

“Throne preserve me…” He says with a grunt and a sigh of utter satisfaction at the sensation of your wet heat surrounding his length, accommodating him with ease because of how aroused you are.

Abelard alternates between watching himself claim you and your face, to make sure that you’re comfortable, but you are much more than comfortable. You yourself are watching his cock push inside of you and you sigh with a moan when at last he buries himself fully inside. Your left hand clings to his thigh that is under your leg and you grab the armrest of the couch just above your head as well.

“You’re so beautiful, Lord Captain.” Abelard grunts, trying not to immediately begin plowing into you, starting it slow. One stroke, then two, prolonging the sensation of each and making both of you mark them with moans. “So… beautiful…” He says again and presses a palm to your right thigh, pushing it even further apart, then he places a palm on your stomach and his thumb presses against your clit, making you arch your back ever so slightly.

You watch his face, watch his eyes roam over you as he begins slowly picking up the pace, all while moving the pad of his thumb in circles and making you moan louder and harder, making you quiver already. Your fingers clutch his thigh and the armrest stronger and the ancient wood creaks under the weight motion of you indulging in each other.

“Deeper…” You huff, knowing that he can give you more of himself and Abelard eagerly complies, moving his palm from your stomach to grip the underside of your knee that was draped over his thigh just a moment ago, lifting it near to your chest while he leans in, and with one swift stroke, enters so deep that you cry out with pleasure.

“I knew you were needy.” Abelard whispers with a smile and you smile too, your flushed face and misty eyes etching themselves into his very heart.

“And you’re willing to oblige.” You whisper back and he chuckles, leaning onto his elbow and entangling his fingers into your hair when he cradles the top of it.

“That’s because you make it impossible not to.” Abelard huffs and kisses you deeply, beginning to move again, slower until you adjust to the new angle and depth, and then harder, his desire making him chase for his bliss. He doesn’t know how long exactly it has been since he felt this way, but the sensation is so overwhelming he cannot stop himself. “God-Emperor…”

He moves faster and stronger, with the new angle he keeps your leg firmly in place and his grip becomes almost bruising as he groans and sighs with every thrust that he delivers, making you moan and grasp onto him in return. Sheen of sweat on your brow, his beard tickling your neck as he kisses it and hard, deep pumps that Abelard grants you every time he rolls his hips against yours make beautifully licentious sounds each time his skin slaps against yours, accompanied by your body squelching around his soaked length. It’s like a melody to you both. This feels good, too good.

“Abelard, I’m-“ You start but cry out when he once again sheathes himself into you to the hilt and you sense him smile into the crook of your neck before the Seneschal rises his head and gives you a short kiss onto your bottom lip.

“Let me see you come undone, Lord Captain. Grant me this privilege.” He huffs and you suddenly realize that he’s tethering the edge of a climax himself, holding back only for you.

“Will you grant me the same sight?” You somehow manage to whisper a complete sentence and another kiss presses against a corner of your mouth.

“Of course.” He smiles and this time kisses you deeply, but briefly. His desire to see you fall apart under him trumping over his desire to keep tasting you.

Few more erratic yet precise strokes, few more thrusts that have you crying out with increasing pleasure and then – utter bliss. Your back arches, your nails dig into Abelard’s side and into the wood of the couch and you shiver, your body spasms with a wave after wave of pleasure that eradicates every worry, every doubt, every shadow from your mind. All while you don’t even realize how you keep crying out Abelard’s name as if you’re calling for the Emperor himself.

It’s everything to the Seneschal and he can’t endure this any longer, his restraint falling away completely and with a moan, while keeping his eyes on you, as you cup the side of his face after releasing your grip from the armrest, he spills himself in stuttering spurts that make his body tense and his thrusts falter in their rhythm until he stops completely, pressing his sweaty forehead against similarly slick yours.

Seconds or minutes pass while you both try to catch your breaths and remain still, yet Abelard’s muscles begin to shake from strain and he presses one gentle kiss to your parted lips, before he sits up and carefully pulls out of you, making you whimper both from small burst of pleasure and the absence that you weren’t quite ready to feel. He strokes your high with a tired, but content smile and eyes you entirely.

“I see my Lord Captain has been thoroughly sated, or am I mistaken?” He asks and his voice is hoarse, but you find yourself wanting to hear it like this forever.

“Temporarily.” You smile to him as well and Abelard’s face gain near comical expression of surprise until he chuckles and shakes his head.

“I may be too old for this.” He laughs softly and you sit up, gently cupping the underside of his jaw and leaning closer.

“Not too old for me.” You let your words hang in the air as you both smile to each other and then you kiss him, rejoiced when Abelard pulls you into his lap and your chest presses against his, skin to skin.

Your protector, your Seneschal, your advisor and now your lover.

Perhaps the ally you truly needed has been by your side all along and you wouldn’t dare complain about it.

Not even a little bit.

[stosmanthus]

I’m ready. I’m ready for my ZoLu jealousy rant. Part 1 of 2.

[BTW, this rant is also a behind-the-scenes look at the madness that came over me when I wrote the unsubtly titled fic, “Four Times Zoro Did Not Get Jealous (and the One Time Sanji Confronted Him About It).” Prior reading of the fic is not necessary for enjoyment of my insanity analysis.]

At its core, I believe jealousy arises from 1. a special regard and 2. insecurity. You don’t get jealous over someone you don’t care about. And if you’re confident in the other person’s feelings for you, there’s not much to be jealous about.

With our resident swordsman, he definitely holds Luffy in high regard, meaning there would be reason to feel jealous over Luffy. The question then becomes, has Zoro ever been given a reason to feel insecure about his place in Luffy’s life?

My stance on this is a solid NO.

I believe Zoro knows his worth, partly because he has ALWAYS worked hard to earn his place beside Luffy. He trains constantly and goes above and beyond to do everything he can to stay by Luffy’s side and be Luffy’s “wing.” And Luffy has shown time and time again that he trusts Zoro implicitly in pretty much everything except for directions. Zoro is Luffy’s voice of reason, moral support, enabler, and rabid attack dog rolled into one muscular package. Luffy appreciates the crap out of Zoro, and he has never hesitated to show it. He calls for Zoro first, is always delighted to see him, and gives Zoro the Sabo face-glomp treatment (TM) after just two weeks apart. Yes, all Straw Hats are created equal, but I’ll fight every One Piece fan to defend my view that in the eyes of canon Luffy, Zoro may just be a tad more special.

My point is, Luffy has never given Zoro a reason to be jealous, and Zoro is secure enough in his position within Luffy’s life that he doesn’t feel threatened by anyone else. He’s been petty, sure, like his insistence that he is worth twice as many men as Sanji, but I do think that is just Zoro’s competitiveness. Because why on earth would Zoro be jealous over Luffy? Who can even come between them??!

Don’t get me wrong, I like to indulge in a jealous Zoro fic any time. In fact, if you know any, send a link my way pls! At my core, however, I don’t think Zoro is the jealous type. Not over Luffy at least. Shippers of other Zoro pairings? You do you.

However! There’s always a caveat. I do believe Zoro gets possessive, but in the way that all Straw Hats get possessive over Luffy. Because Luffy is theirs. And when Luffy nearly kills himself to save a whole kingdom, I think they get a little protective over their captain, and they’d want to keep him to themselves for a while. Ultimately, they know they can’t. Luffy is meant for the world to love, and all the Straw Hats know this. Zoro knows this more than anyone, having been THE FIRST.

So at the end of an adventure, when the fight is over and adrenaline leaves him, I think Zoro frets and anguishes so much that he wants to lock up his captain in a room where nobody else can take another piece of him, because Luffy has given enough, dammit. But Zoro doesn’t do that, because Luffy would not want him to.

In summary, the conclusion of my book report is that no, Zoro doesn’t get jealous.

(But what about Luffy?! That’s coming in Part 2. I need to first write another 1000 words of my next fic.)

[soartfullydone]

"rebel moon is just a bunch of disjointed character intros with no substance---"

[loud fart noise in your face]

Anyway, what connects all of the characters together is Honor, a major theme of the movie. It's the reason that These People In Particular are all chosen, beyond their reputations or even their skill sets (which are still important).

What does your personal honor look like? How do you uphold it? What do you do when you lose your honor? Can you ever truly regain it once it's lost? Can you find redemption, or is revenge the closest thing you can get? Can revenge and honor ever be the same?

After her indoctrination and service in the Imperium, Kora deserts, but it's for her survival, not the recovery of her honor. That's the journey she's currently on in the defense of her new home and the people there, triggered by the conflict of choosing her personal safety or rescuing Sam from further assault. She found the line of her honor and refused to ignore it any longer.

Gunnar placed personal gain over maintaining a united front about the grain surplus. His dishonorable actions lead to Sindri getting killed and their village placed under the Imperium's thumb. Noble's culpability aside, Gunnar feels responsible for his role in all this and seeks to make amends. It's why he's the only one who jumps in to protect the child from potential collateral damage in Nemesis' fight with Harmada. He is transitioning from being a selfish character to being more selfless, defining what he wants his personal honor to be.

Speaking of Nemesis, she is the most samurai-coded character here, complete with their version of honor. Her failure at being able to protect her children drives her to defend others, and shoulder the burden of killing once a peaceful resolution cannot be reached. It's why she has an entire conversation with Harmada, to understand what drives her, to attempt to find common ground and shared empathy. It's why she fights first with naked steel, to try to convince Harmada to back off, to value her own life, and it's for the lives of others that she finally ignites her blades when she cannot. Nemesis is not an emotionless cyborg who assassinates in cold blood, but one who is deeply attuned to her pain and that of others.

Tarak is a prince, and yet we learn he's nowhere near his home or his people. Whether he's failed them or abandoned them (or feels like he has) is still a mystery, but we still know that he is an honorable man, regarding his servitude to Hickman with utter seriousness. Tarak will honor his word and any agreements once given, including a life debt, and his connection with nature both demonstrates and resonates his nobility. He even has the whole "honor them" speech to Millius, revealing that he knows the guilt of surviving when all the friends you swore to fight beside are now gone.

General Titus fought proudly for the Imperium until his honor wouldn't allow him to stomach their methods. The price for that included his men's lives, his station, and his dignity. Unable to protect any of it including his ideals, he turns to drink and hopes fighting as a gladiator to the death does the rest. And yet, he cannot bring himself to just lay down and die. He dwells on his mistakes but does not succumb to them. The kernel of honor was still within him, and it's no wonder Kora and the other idealists at her back were able to ignite it again.

Jimmy is from an order of robotic knights, who all laid down their arms in dishonor and disgrace when the Imperium's royal family was murdered. He embodies old and forgotten chivalry, and in case you missed that, they got Anthony Hopkins to voice him. These knights haven't fought back since, even when they are attacked---and yet Jimmy retaliates to protect Sam before himself, finding something honorable to fight for again.

Darrian Bloodaxe has his honor as a rebellion leader tested and rightly concludes that the revolution is meaningless if they will not come to the aid of the most defenseless among them. (But he and his men die anyway!) Indeed, that is the point. Hedging your bets and picking your battles might be the smartest option, but it's not the most noble or honorable. Honor, in case you haven't noticed, often demands a choice and a price.

And yes, even our villains share in this theme in their own twisted ways. Kai is a mirror to Gunnar, but where Gunnar is growing into being a less opportunistic person, Kai is deliberately shrouding his true intentions from the get-go. At Kai's betrayal, Kora demands after his honor, to which Kai dryly replies, "What did happen to it." It isn't a question. Kai long ago saw honor as a death sentence and chose survival over everything, and in an ironic twist, is killed once he tries to tempt Gunnar into choosing his own survival over Kora's. Like Kora before him, Gunnar finds his line that he will not cross as well as what he fights for.

Finally, there's Atticus Noble, who wields the honorable memory of the Slain King and his dishonorable death as a blunt weapon against all that isn't the Imperium, much like his cane. The one time the Imperium was gracious, and they were betrayed for it. Never again, and everyone will suffer for this humiliation until the Imperium's honor is restored---and it never will be. Because honor is not the point; conquest and control is. Revenge is the point.

Literally all of this is in the film btw. But then, I wasn't fast-forwarding or looking down at my phone the whole time or playing Paint By Numbers: Star Wars Edition. I was actually watching the goddamn movie and letting it tell me its story. And then I reflected on it afterward. Whooooaaa!

[rainydawgradioblog]

Top Ten Songs that my Roommates Hate:

If I’m good at anything it's being obnoxious. Here’s ten songs that I love, but drive my roommates up the wall.  Ranked from their most to least tolerable.

10.  “Bangs”- They Might be Giants

Starting off very tame, “Bangs” has the signature TMBG geeky sound and whiny vocals. The song conjures imagery of pocket protectors and protractors. With lyrics like "royal flyness" and talk of concordant angles, “Bangs” is likely a big hit in the math department. Hey at least they've got taste.

9.  “Billy Don't Be a Hero”- Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods

What's better than mass manufactured 70s bubblegum pop hit about the Civil War? A cover of the Paper Lace ‘classic’, “Billy Don't Be a Hero” tells a story of a soldier killed in combat, in the most catchy, kitschy way possible. It’s a very addictive song, so please listen responsibly.

8.  “Xanadu”- Rush

“Xanadu” by Rush is not to be confused with the 1980 Olivia Newton John film of the same name, though both are pretty polarizing. The only critique I can offer is that at only 11 minutes, “Xanadu” is entirely too short. Who wouldn't want to " To stand within the pleasure dome, decreed by Kubla Khan” with Geddy Lee. Sounds pretty cool if you ask me.

7. “Motorcycle Mama”- Harpo

Everyone knows that a truly great musician is defined by their references to other, better musicians. Unlike the other songs on this list ( with the exception of Gaucho) this is a bad song, but it's a blast. Harpo’s so caught up in trying to string Ravi Shankar and Fritz the Cat together that he entirely forgets to pay any attention to the rest of the song.

6.  “Be True to Your School”- The Beach Boys

Clearly, my roommates are lacking some serious school spirit. Just wait until some loud braggart tries to put them down. They won't know what hit them.

5. “Your Auntie Grizelda”- The Monkees

I'm a big fan of the Monkees, but even I have to admit that “Your Auntie Grizelda" is an annoying song. There is a definite reason Peter Tork wasn't placed on vocals, but I think there's a certain charm to having a singer who can't really sing.

4. “Schlock Rod Pt. 2”- Jan and Dean

“Schlock Rod Pt. 2” is nothing if not unique, it's an obnoxious conversation between two men, complete with constant voice cracks. Set to a tune consisting of clanging metal and sputtering car engines, it's satire, and I’ll defend it till the end. Think this one is annoying? Check out part one.

3. “Gaucho”- Steely Dan

I apologize in advance to all the Dan Fans out there, but damn this song sucks. Listening to “Gaucho” is like being transported to your grandpa’s pontoon in the 80s, and when a song mentions ponchos more than once, there’s a fundamental issue lyrically.

2. “Sally MacLennane”- The Pogues

The best way to listen to any Pogues song is at an ear-splitting volume, though the people I live with might disagree. If you have too many friends, this will either take care of it (especially if you listen at strange hours of the morning) or you’ll meet the best people you’ll ever know. Rest in peace, Shane MacGowan, you are a legend and a genius.

1. “Strap on That Jammy Pac”- Ween

Recorded on a four-track cassette while both Dean and Gene Ween were supposedly huffing Scotchgard (they probably weren’t) and had mono (they probably did); “Strap on That Jammy Pac” is the first track off of The Pod, which is easily one of the best albums of all time. Shout out to Ween for this much needed addition to blues-country history.

-Parks

[dandelionh3art]

I want my fellow Americans to look at this man. Just look at him, don't read the comments, simply look at his face and his attire.

Now look deep within you, don't write your answer and think of your impression of him.

Now let me ask you, what do you know about this man? Truly what do you know? If you are honest with yourself, the rank and file American has no idea who he is. But I can bet you have made up your mind about him based off of how he looks.

The reason I know this is because I still do the same thing myself, even though I know better now. That's how strong and heavy the indoctrination and smear campaign has been on Islam and Muslims. Our Israeli controlled media, news and entertainment have given us the caricatured, extream version of these people for so long, that we instinctively think this way.

I see many Americans celebrating his death, they call him a terrorist killed. Now I ask you, what has this man done to America or Americans? Did he send Hezbollah troops to your town, city, neighborhood? Are Hezbollah troops massing on our beaches? Are their missiles aimed at our states?

Or is the invasion coming from south of the border that your politicians tell you is not a threat? Maybe it's because these people chant, "death to America."

What would you chant if let's say Iran invaded America, built bases, bombed, stole resources and it was all funded by Russia? Maybe you would find yourself forming a resistance and chanting, "Death to Russia!"

The truth is you know nothing of this man, you know you are supposed to hate him because the news, media and your favorite conservative accounts and voices tell you to hate him. You hate him because those exact voices are paid and owned by Israel or are Jewish and fiercely loyal to Israel.

You hate him because he looks Muslim... you hate him because he looks like a terrorist. It's ok to admit it, I was the exact same way, I won't deny it. But it is a lie.

This man has more in line with American patriots defending their home from the king in 1776 than a terrorist.

Here are some facts for you. You are more likely to be killed by the following 1000 times more than Hezbollah.

Israel.

Illegal immigrants.

Crime.

Toaster.

Drunk driver.

Pfizer.

The US government.

American police.

Mosquito.

Mass shooting.

Airplane.

Car accident.

Diabetes.

Cancer.

Walking through any large American city.

Riding public transportation.

You get the point. In fact the only time you risk a man like this or Hezbollah harming you is if you invade their homes in the Middle East like Israel and US forces have done.

There are a million different things to fear in America, this man was not one of them, Hezbollah is not one of them, Hamas is not one of them. It's ok to hate these men, hate is bad but you are free to do so, just understand why you hate them.

You hate them on behalf of Israel 🇮🇱, nothing less, nothing more. And Israel hates them simply because they resist Israeli colonialism and genocide.

[horizonthetransient]

On Lightning Bolts And Science Fiction/Fantasy

Or, “Chainmail won’t protect you from a thunderstorm, but it will protect you from a Sith.”

So, in real life, there are these things called Tesla Coils. They’re these big electric machines that shoot off little bolts of high-voltage, low-current lightning. These days, everything practical they can do can be done better by something else, so they’re pretty much solely decorative, but damn if they aren’t still good at that. One thing that you might like to see are some dudes dancing with Tesla Coils while wearing chainmail suits. Go on, click the link. I’ll wait for you.

As you can see in the video, electricity follows the path of least resistance. Metal has way less electrical resistance than human flesh, and so if electricity can flow through metal instead of flesh, it will. These men, who are wearing chainmail suits, are pretty much impossible to hurt with tesla coils, because instead of the electricity going through their nerves and organs, it’ll always go through the far-more-conductive metal instead.

Now, if you’re anything like me, you may be thinking “hey, shouldn’t this mean that my D&D character who wears a suit of metal armor should be more defended against lightning, not less?” And I think you’re right! But alas, if you actually voice this opinion, you will likely be met with a common counterargument:

“A lightning bolt has like a zillion megawatts of power! Even with metal armor, it’d deafen you, blind you, and probably burn you by overheating your metal armor!”

And... to me, this is like arguing that kevlar can’t stop bullets, because high-explosive artillery can put six foot craters in the ground. Part of what you’ve said is true, but you’re grossly mischaracterizing the sort of weapons people can use in small-scale fights without killing everyone in the room, themselves included, based purely on sensationalist trivia.

Now, yes, a real lightning bolt from a thunderstorm won’t really care about what personal defenses you have, but that same lightning bolt will also seriously injure anyone within five paces, including the spellcaster who shot it from their fingertips. Considering that Sith and Wizards don’t typically go deaf immediately after shooting lightning at people, I feel safe in concluding that they’re not using that kind of power.

I think it’s also worth talking about what power means in the context of electricity, because as it turns out this is a formally defined term that is quite relevant to the question of “how bad will this kill you?” In electrical terms, power (measured in watts) is the product of voltage and current (measured in amps). And as any electrician can tell you, it’s the amps that kill you. Voltage, meanwhile, is what determines how wide of an air gap the lightning can cross; considering how unconductive thin air is, you need a lot of voltage if you want to shoot lightning at people from any distance whatsoever, and that means you need more power, unless you cut down on the amps.

Fortunately, you totally can cut down on the amps and still have a viable weapon! It only takes six or seven milliamps through the heart to kill someone, and a tenth of an amp if you don’t feel like having super precise aiming. And in all honesty, this maps to lightning attacks in most speculative fiction pretty well- where it always hurts like a bitch, but isn’t always horrendously lethal.

However, that kind of low current is bad news for the “chainmail would just cook you in your armor!” gang, because resistive heating, the phenomenon that makes electricity heat things up, only cares about resistance and current. High voltage isn’t going to do jack shit for resistive heating, and steel wire of the thickness you’d want for making chainmail is plenty capable of handling a measly tenth of an amp. It’s typically about as thick as the wires in your walls, and those can safely handle fifteen or twenty amps before they start to get uncomfortably warm. Sure, that’s copper and chainmail is steel, but chainmail is also a lot of steel, and the fact that there’s literal thousands of rings in a chainmail suit does in fact significantly increase the amount of current that can safely be handled.

So, in conclusion? Unless your fantasy lightning wand produces lightning so powerful that it should seriously injure the user (in which case nobody would want to use it), conductive metal armor 100% would protect the wearer from lightning attacks. This isn’t to say that lightning weapons should logically be useless in speculative fiction- there are plenty of contexts in which people would not be wearing metal armor, where lightning remains a perfectly serviceable way of killing people horrifically. But this is to say that I’m sick of people acting like wearing metal armor is useless at best and suicidal at worst when the other guy has a lightning spell. Knock that shit off.

[ourtearsofrain]

Chapter 4- Even Heaven's Hearken

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Genre: angst

Word Count: little over 2.2 k

Warnings: sword fight with Sammy (no one gets severely hurt)

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The outcome of your fight with Samuel left Joshua and Jacob in a state of absolute shock, their mouths opening and closing as they tried and failed to find any response. Samuel gets up, scowling at you as he walks towards your group. As he brushes himself off, his face turns beet red from the embarrassment of being bested by you.

Joshua raises his sword, pointing the tip of his blade straight at your throat as he takes a step forward.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Thankfully, Jacob and Danny are quick to jump in, defending you as they place themselves between you and Joshua, raising their hands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation.

“Joshua, they won. They’ve proved they will be useful on our crew.” Jacob starts.

“Let me ask you, brother, how much do you really know about them, hm? What a coincidence that you meet just before Lady Helena attacks the town we had planned on visiting to restock our provisions. How do you know they aren’t one of hers, sent to infiltrate us?”

He looks in between the men at you, his stare burning straight into yours as he waits.

“So, I’ll ask you again, who the fuck are you? How do you know how to fight like that?”

“I was a server in The Black Smoke, nothing more, I swear. I only know how to fight because my father taught me when I was young, in case I ever needed to protect myself.”

Joshua says nothing, only slightly raising one eyebrow as if expecting you to say something more to sway his mind.

“I swear to it that I am not with Lady Helena. I have more reasons to hate her than just her destroying my town.”

Your voice breaks as you continue, wanting to put enough of your true emotion into your explanation to sway him into trusting you, but not so much that he saw you as weak.

“She killed my father in front of me. I was 17. She took him from me, and I was left with nothing, forcing me to take that serving job to get by.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Samuel butts in for the first time, mostly forgetting his previous embarrassment as he becomes enthralled by your words.

“I swear on my father’s grave.”

Joshua gives you one last hard look before sighing, sheathing his sword as he offers his hand out to you.

“Welcome to our crew, Polaris. Don’t think I automatically trust you, though. You will always stay within one of our lines of sight, do you understand?”

You nod as you take his hand, matching his firm grip. “I understand.”

“Good.” He turns towards the rest of the group before beginning to walk towards the door as he speaks. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am in dire need of some food and a very large amount of liquor.”

He opens the door, gesturing for the group to file out of the building and towards the town where both food and alcohol would surely be found in plenty.

You allow the other three men to go ahead of you, following them as they make their way down the unused path single file. As you pass Joshua in the doorway, he reaches out, grabbing your bicep and stopping you in your tracks to turn and face him.

His expression is still serious and stern, but you swear you can see the smallest bit of a soft kindness lurking behind his eyes.

“Helena killed our father too. Jacob and I were 16, and Samuel- he was barely 13. Our mother went mad with grief, leaving Jacob and I to raise him and Daniel while maintaining the empire my father, and his father before him, had built. We understand the hatred you must feel for her, if you are telling the truth that is. We can work together to bring her down, this I believe.” He takes a step towards you, fierce anger replacing any kindness you had seen as he sneers. “However, if you are lying about any part of what you just told us, I will not hesitate to kill you. And unlike Samuel, I will not offer a quick and painless death.”

“Understood.” Is all you say before he lets go of you, following his brothers as you stand in silence alone.

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself before jogging to catch up with the rest of the group. You follow silently as they lead you into the town, each man receiving some form of greeting from the other pirates populating the streets as you walk.

Eventually, you follow them into a large pub, much like The Black Smoke had been. As soon as the bartender spots your group, a wide grin graces her features.

“Well look what the tide brought in! Long time no see, boys. I was beginning to think you finally died.” she laughs.

Joshua matches her smile as the men at the bar across from her exit their seats, knowing they would have been asked to give them up for the great Kiszkas.

“Not yet, although I bet you would be relieved at that, wouldn’t you, Rosanna.”

“Ah, give me more credit. I would shed at least one tear at the news.”

She finally notices you as you take the last seat next to Danny, and she offers you a small smile as you quietly take your seat.

“You bring me some fresh meat, boys? Didn’t know you were actively recruiting.”

Sam speaks up, still bitter over the outcome of your fight. “Yeah, neither did we. Maybe you could take them off our hands, they served at a bar apparently.”

“Well, I am always looking for new staff but wouldn’t want to poach you from their crew, kid.” Her genuine smile eases some of your anxieties as it was one of the few you had received since meeting Jacob and his brothers.

You return her smile. “Thanks, but I’ve spent enough time serving in bars to last a lifetime.”

 Her laugh is bright and warm. “I hear you, kid!”

She turns her attention back to the boys. “The usual, I assume?”

Met with four various comments of confirmation, she begins readying their drinks easily, having memorized each man’s order.

“And for you?”

“Oh, uh water is fine.”

“You don’t drink? Would’ve thought, working in a bar and all.”

“No, it’s not that. Believe me, an empty stomach and alcohol do not mix well for me.” You laugh out as you remember the last time you had drank after not eating all day, all but the part of the night where you violently threw up in an alleyway gone from your memory.

“Oh you poor thing, I bet they haven’t fed you, have they?” She scowls at them. “Your hospitality really has gone to shit, even for pirates.”

“In their defense,” You chime in, hoping to score some good points with Joshua and Samuel, “They were going to restock in my town but… then Lady Helena attacked.”

Rosanna’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Well then, I’d say you’re lucky to be alive.”

She grabs a small platter, reaching under the bar table and placing a small piece of bread and cheese on it before setting it on the table in front of you.

“It’s not much but, hope that helps, kid.”

You begin to shake your head. “No, no, I don’t have any money to pay you with. I’m alright, really.”

“It’s on the house. Please, eat.”

You stare at her for a second, her expression unwavering kindness as she waits for you to take it. You finally give in, your stomach screaming at the thought of eating. As you set in on the food she offered, she begins placing glasses on a larger platter before rounding the corner of the bar.

“Alright well, like I said, I’m understaffed so I have to go make a few rounds. Take anything you want from the bar, it was nice catching up with you all. We’ll have to talk later, Samuel, it’s been far too long.” She ends with a wink in Samuel’s direction before beginning to weave through the crowd, placing drinks on tables as she went.

“Samuel, how much longer are you going to keep her waiting?” Jacob laughs.

You see Danny stiffen next to you, his jaw clenching as he looks down at his drink.

“What? I told you guys, Rosie and I are just friends.”

“Yeah, does “Rosie” know that?” Joshua asks playfully.

Samuel rolls his eyes as he takes a drink. “Be quiet.”

Having finished the food Rosanna had given you, you once again sit quietly as you listen to their conversation.

“Oh, come on, Samuel. We’re just trying to help you. You haven’t been with someone in far too long, puts our pirate name to shame.” Joshua quips back.

Danny drains his drink beside you, looking over to see you had also finished.

“Wanna get out of here? I know you’ve had a long day and I’m not in the mood for any more drinks right now.”

You nod, “Only if you’d like to leave.”

He turns towards the others. “I’m going to show Polaris their way to the house. We’ll see you there when you’ve had enough to drink.”

Samuels eyes narrow at you as Danny stands. “Make sure to keep an eye on them.”

Danny brushes him off as you stand. “I know, I know.”

Without another word, he begins walking towards the door as you trail behind him. He starts down the main road, quickly taking a right onto a small, dark path towards a medium-sized building that sat separate from the others.

“So,” you start, “You and Samuel?”

This grabs his attention, his head whipping to look at you as his step falters.

“What about us?”

You shrug, “Nothing. I just saw you tense up when they were talking about him and Rosanna and was wondering how long you two have been together. And why Joshua and Jacob don’t know.”

“It’s not like that.”

When he doesn’t say any more, you pry further, wanting to get the details. “It is for you, is it not?”

He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he walks. “Sammy, Samuel and I have known each other for most of our lives, and sure, we have messed around a few times but it’s always nothing to him. Spending months at sea, he can get… lonely sometimes. I mean it’s not like we’re courting each other or anything.”

“You could though.”

“No, I couldn’t.” Is all he quietly says before changing the conversation topic.

“So, how much do you know about Lady Helena?”

“Not much.” It’s a lie. You know it but luckily, Danny doesn’t see through you.

“Her father used to be an ally of the Kiszkas. He would join our crew every once and a while, always leaving sooner or later to go back to his family. When she was old enough, she would join him sometimes. One day, she came onto our ship, using the trust we had for her and her teary story of her father’s death as an excuse. She told a tall tale of a new bloodthirsty pirate lord attacking them, and what really sold it was the gash running from above her left eyebrow down her nose and across her right cheek. Said he did that to her before she barely escaped with her life. Captain Kellen took her to his study to plan revenge, to set a course to track down the pirate that did it.”

You both reach the door of the building, and his story pauses as he opens the door. He turns toward you with tears brimming in his eyes.

“Kellen… he didn’t come back out. But she did, soaked in blood with this insane look in her eye. She declared herself the Captain of our ship. We tried to fight her but, Samuel and I were so young and… and Joshua and Jacob were distracted by their grief. Jacob almost got her, but she had a pistol hidden in the folds of her skirts, that’s when she shot him. We’ve been trying to get our revenge since then but her power, her influence over the seas has only grown.”

You follow Daniel as he begins lighting dusty lanterns around the room.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Danny.”

He tries for a smile. “It’s not your fault. We will get our revenge one day. And thankfully for us, her father never brought her here, so she doesn’t know the exact location of our home. I will say, she has been trying very hard for the past few years and has come close a few times but, never close enough.”

You say nothing as he leads you into a room holding six beds, all of them perfectly made and visibly unused for quite some time.

"Anyway, this is where we sleep when we make port here. We all grew up here so the beds are sort of assigned, but you can use that one.” he says, pointing to one of the six beds tucked into a corner.

“Thank you. Your kindness has been much appreciated.”

“Of course, Polaris. You’re one of us now.”

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A/N: the title, of course, is taken from the lyrics to The Indigo Streak

[viceroywrites]

reunions and opportunities - chapter seven

gary x fem!reader

both of you didn't get the ideal high school experience it would make sense that you both would be dreading the reunion.

little did you know how many doors would open after that.

ao3 version here - chapters on tumblr are slightly rewritten and restructured.

content warning: fic contains smut in later chapters. discussions of mental health including trauma and potential ptsd (aka gary is traumatized).

chapter seven

Being a henchman since the age of 15, you would think Gary would become accustomed to death. Sure, losing his best friend and partner in crime was a tough blow and changed who he was physically and emotionally but he’s seen so many henchmen he’s worked with and fought against be killed right before his eyes.

Despite committing to a life of villainy in order to help his boss-turned-friend, there was still a softness within Gary. Growing up reading comics and following the stories of heroes, Gary wanted to do good and protect those around him -  except his actual attempts to turn to the “good side” failed. Turns out, he can still do those things but more efficiently just within the confines of his henchman role. 

Since adopting the alter ego of Kano, it felt harder and harder to feel that he was doing any type of good. Gary’s nightmares felt like they became more and more vivid as he continued to add more dead bodies to what felt like a never ending list.

Tonight brought yet another nightmare.

Images of Wandering Spider pleading for his life, his body disintegrating as he clung to Gary’s legs to keep him from running away from the sight. Another body being flung to his feet by a shadowy figure that wears the Blue Morpho suit, the new victim’s face obscured by a cloth over their head. “Here’s your next victim, Kano. Remember, dead men can’t snitch!” The voice cackled menacingly, the sound of the Monarch’s voice clear in his head. Thin fingers pulled back the cloth, revealing your face.

“No, no, no!”

Gary’s booming voice echoed through your tiny New York apartment walls, waking you from your slumber. Startled from the sudden noise, you hastily rub the sleep out of your eyes, your instincts preparing you to defend yourself. However, your vision adjusts to see Gary trembling next to you, shaking his head back and forth, his forehead drenched in a cold sweat.

“Gary!” Your voice snaps him out of his torment, placing a hand on his back as he jolts up right from his position in bed. You sit silently yet patiently, your presence causing his muscles to relax as his heavy breaths fill in the silence.

Once his erratic breathing pattern calms down, you push the blankets off your body, adjusting to wrap your arms as much as you can around Gary’s bulky frame. “It was just a dream, you’re okay.” You feel his large hand rest atop of yours as he gives you a sympathetic look. 

“Crap, I’m sorry I woke you up! You have-” Gary’s words are hastily silenced as you place a finger against his lips, giving him a reassuring smile and shaking your head. “Dr. Mrs. gave me the morning off, said she would fill me in on the meeting later.” 

Gary relaxed at your reassurance and gave you a tired smile, “Sorry again.” You let out a soft yawn, stretching your arms above your head before wrapping them around your burly beau’s shoulders. “You wanna talk about it?” You query, an eyebrow raised with curiosity as to what could have Gary screaming and waking up in a cold sweat.

The henchman shook his head, pulling you closer to him and adjusting your positions so you sat between his thighs, squeezing you tightly from behind. “Mm, how about we just enjoy our day off together?” Gary rasped, his voice still deep and groggy as his five o clock shadow tickled the nape of your neck as he snuggled into your warmth, hoping to distract you with his affection.

Despite your lingering suspicion, you let the issue drop, already exhausted from last night’s revelations and being enticed by Gary’s promise of a day free of drama and full of spending quality time with your adorable dorky boyfriend. 

“Alright, let me get some caffeine in my system because I still have a ton of questions for you. I only got your origin story last night.” You remark with a grin, kicking off the covers and hopping out of bed. The brown-haired man breathed out a sigh of relief, almost hearing the disembodied voice of his best friend admonish him, “Dude, pull yourself together!”

—

“I still can’t believe that at age fifteen, you became a henchman.” You shake your head in disbelief before taking a sip of your coffee, just having finished breakfast and curled up on your couch with Gary’s burly arm around your waist. 

“I still can’t believe you prefer TNG over TOS,” Gary snorts before receiving a swift elbow to the ribs. 

“I won’t argue that no one can hold a candle to Leonard Nimoy and the Corbomite Maneuver is still my favorite episode but I much prefer Patrick Stewart as Picard and I can’t get over how campy the visuals look nowadays.” You defend.

“Hey, those visual effects were revolutionary at the time! Besides, I would argue Doctor Who’s visual effects aged much worse in comparison!” Gary let out a playful chuckle as his response was met with a decorative pillow to his face.

“Anyways, we’re getting off topic. So all you’ve done since then is be a henchman?” You question, wanting to know more about your new boyfriend’s life as a henchman. You only truly dipped your toes into the Guild as of the last few months working with Dr. Mrs. the Monarch.

“Well, there was a time where the Monarch was in jail and him and Dr. Mrs. broke up.” Gary chuckled at your surprised expression, “Oh yeah, it was bad - pretty much the whole Monarch crew went to work for Monstroso so I moved back in with my mom, did some podcasting and worked for the Atomic Comic Collection Connection.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed. 

“I’m assuming you rejoined after they got back together?” You questioned, not at all phased by the news he just shared. Gary continued on, “Well yeah but I ended up leaving again. It’s kind of a long story so I’m sure you don’t want to hear me keep rambling.” He chuckled nervously, reluctant to share the reason why he left the second time around.

“Well, we have all day… I know it sounds like I’m grilling you but I’m genuinely just curious. This Guild stuff is still kind of new to me since working for Wide Wale was a bit of a cushy job to say the least.” You reassure him, squeezing his hand.

“Alright…” Gary sighed, running a hand through his face, unable to say no to your eyes beaming up at him. “I guess I should start with telling you about 24… my best friend.” 

You listened intently, squeezing Gary's hand as you noticed his voice get shaky at the mention of 24. You had heard bits and pieces from Dr. Mrs. about how the Monarch used to have more henchmen but dwindled in numbers down to just 21 over the years. The more and more Gary opened up to you, the more you understood why he kept his henchman lifestyle a secret from you. It was ultimately to protect you from the same fate. 

“Basically, I was grieving the loss of my best friend, talking to his skull and hearing his voice like all the time and I had a bit of an infatuation with Dr. Mrs…” Your eyebrow quirked up at this new piece of information which Gary got nervous seeing your expression. 

You could see him starting to stammer to explain which you chuckled at and shrugged your shoulders, “Gary, it’s fine. I mean it’s in the past. Plus I’m not blind, Gary. She’s smoking hot… despite the unfortunate voice that starts to grow on you. Anyways, continue.”

“Pretty much, I needed a break from the Monarchs and the life of villainy.” Gary explained, “So I went to the other side so to speak. I worked for SPHINX for a bit before it got dismantled, lived on the Venture Compound for a few months, and even teamed up with Brock Samson.” 

The henchman glanced back over to you and saw your eyes look up at him in awe, his cheeks flushing at the words that came out of your mouth next, “You’re so cool, Gary.” 

He shook his head vigorously, “Oh no, I’m still just a nerd… just more jacked than I was before.” You pout at his denial and sighed, “I have to admit, I’m a bit jealous that you got to experience all these things. It sounds like you pretty much lived out a comic book fantasy.”

Gary’s head tilted as he looked down at you, pressing a reassuring kiss on your cheek, “I mean you pretty much are living the same life I am, working for the Guild and all. You’re even more in the know than I am.”

You shrugged, placing your coffee mug down and propping your feet up on the coffee table. “I guess, I’m just grateful I took this job under Sheila or else I’d still be a glorified babysitter for Sirena. I worked with Wide Wale for so long that he basically treated me like a second daughter and would have locked me away in Tophet Towers if he could.”

Curiosity got the better of Gary as he asked, “I’m still baffled by how you went from dating one of Wide Wale’s henchmen to me. I mean not to judge but I don’t think I have a lot in common with a New Jersey fuckboy.” 

You let out a snort of laughter at the comparison and shook your head, “Honestly, you don’t have anything in common and that’s honestly a good thing.” 

“I was a nerd pretty much all throughout high school. I blended into the background. So college was a huge change for me and I tried really hard to put myself out there more. Went through a social “glow-up” you could call it.” You chuckle before continuing your story, “I started going to more parties and we met there. Honestly, I wasn’t used to the attention I was getting so I guess it just felt nice even though it was just for my looks for the most part.” You explained before feeling Gary’s arms wrap around you tighter.

“Well, you’re perfect to me - a perfect beauty center with a coating made out of perfect smart candy.” You rolled your eyes at his compliment, a smile curling across your lips.

“You’ve totally used that line before, haven’t you?” 

“Yup.”

—

The rest of the day went without a hitch - you took Gary to your favorite comic book store in the city, you had lunch together, and you both headed back to the Monarch’s residence together as you had a meeting with Dr. Mrs. to discuss Guild business.

As you both entered the vestibule holding hands, the Monarch came out from his study, glancing back and forth between the two of you before a shit-eating grin spread across his face.

“Sweetie! Come down, our favorite henchman duo are here!” The Monarch chimes which causes Gary to groan.

“Oh my god, you guys are worse than my mom!” 

Dr. Mrs the Monarch descends down the staircase and it was a pleasant surprise to see her grinning with pride down at you and 21. You’re so used to seeing her stoic or aggravated during Guild Meetings with some light heartedness in between.

“Well, looks like you two had a good talk last night.” Sheila remarked with a smirk, joining her husband’s side as he joined in on the teasing, “You sure they just talked last night, pookums? Because 21 is beaming like he just got girly action.”

“Oh!” “My!” “God!”

Sheila’s deep laughter fills the room as you both look flustered, “Alright, I have to take your girlfriend away for a bit to catch up on today’s meeting, 21. Don’t miss her too much.” She beckons you to follow her into the kitchen.

You squeeze Gary’s hand one final time before following behind Dr. Mrs., leaving Gary and the Monarch alone.

“Alright, lover boy. We have our own catching up to do.” The Monarch remarked with a grin which filled Gary’s body back up with dread.

—

“So our next target is Red Death… but as you know, our main focus is getting rid of Wide Wale so I’m free to arch Venture once I raise my stupid EMA level.” The Monarch explained, having Gary’s self-created Blue Morpho’s Pyramid of Peril pulled up on his laptop.

“Which is why your new found relationship with [Your Name] could be of use to us, 21.” Gary’s eyebrows raised as your name is mentioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What are you talking about? There’s no way I can tell her about the Blue Morpho stuff, she literally works with your wife!” The Monarch sighs, shaking his head as he grabs 21’s shoulders.

“I’m not that stupid, 21! I want you to get dirt from her about Wide Wale - literally anything - schedules, bargaining tools, the works!” Gary shook his head, brushing the Monarch’s hand off his shoulder.

“No, no. It’s already bad enough she’s way more connected to this all than I had ever wanted but I’m not using her for reconnaissance! It’s already shitty enough that I have to keep this” Gary gestures to the Blue Morpho hideout before continuing, “a secret from her but I’m not dragging her into this any further! Besides, she’s already suspicious of me after I hid the henchman stuff from her.”

The Monarch’s length eyebrow raises as Gary stands firm in his decision. The Monarch’s philosophy before was that henchmen were a dime a dozen - expendable and their feelings didn’t matter as long as the Monarch got what he wanted. With 21 being his one and only right hand man, he couldn’t have that same philosophy.

There was also a part of him that was reluctant to admit that he sympathized with having to lie to his own wife about the Blue Morpho ordeal. 

“Alright fine… but this makes your job tomorrow ten times harder, 21.” The Monarch sighed, looking down at his henchman, “So don’t say I didn’t warn you. I need you to go to Tophet Towers tomorrow. Alone. Scope out the building, get a lay of the land, and place surveillance cameras so we can monitor Wide Wale.”

Gary let out a sigh of exasperation, “Alright, alright! I’ll do it!  The sooner we get this crap over with, the sooner I can actually enjoy the fact that I finally got  a girlfriend!” 

The Monarch grinned, “Good catch, by the way, 21. Looks like my charm has rubbed off on you.”

Gary groaned before glaring playfully up at the Monarch, “I can’t believe you said girly action in front of her.” 

The Monarch smirked, winking at him, “Would you have preferred I said you finally caked her in your sticky triumph?”

“I hate you so much.”

[writerfarzanatutul]

Muslim Story- (Romance Spiritual Thriller)

A gentle shake on her shoulder woke her from her slumber. Hasna groaned, still halfway between sleep and wakefulness. She had been dreaming of navigating a huge ship, with dolphins dancing in the crystal-clear waters beside her. The dream had been vivid and beautiful, the dolphins' graceful movements filling her with awe. She could still feel the warmth of the sun on her face, the wind in her hair. But then, a large wave had appeared on the horizon, and as it approached, she had reached out to defend herself, screaming in terror.

The scream was cut short as she opened her eyes to find Hamza standing next to her, holding a glass of water. Her face was wet with droplets. She blinked, confused, realizing he must have sprinkled water on her to wake her up. "The time for Asr is running out. Don't you want to pray?" he asked softly.

---

After finishing her salah, Hasna made her way to Hamza's study. As she entered, she noticed he was on the phone, his expression perplexed. He ended the call abruptly when he saw her, his brow furrowed in thought.

Had she heard anything? he wondered, his mind racing.

"Why did you sprinkle water on my face?" she demanded, her voice tinged with anger. "You caused a tsunami in my dream! What if I had drowned? And don't you fear me?" Hasna crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for his response, her tone a mix of frustration and bewilderment.

Hamza's frown deepened, but then a teasing smile tugged at his lips. "Why? Should I be afraid of you?" he replied, his voice light.

"What do you mean, 'why'? Don't you know I've killed seven men?" Hasna took a step closer, her voice low and menacing, but she was surprised by his reaction.

"Sorry, I forgot. I'll be sure to remember that next time," Hamza said casually, picking up a file from his desk.

"Do you think I'm joking?" she pressed, her frustration growing.

Hamza's expression sobered, and he looked directly into her eyes. "I wouldn't dare. But I believe you've repented for your actions, haven't you?"

His words caught Hasna off guard. She hadn't expected such a response, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words. Without answering, she turned to leave, unable to face him any longer.

"You shouldn't have sprinkled water on me," she muttered as she headed toward the door.

Before she could exit, Hamza called after her, "O believers! Protect yourselves and your families from a Fire whose fuel is people and stones, overseen by formidable and severe angels who never disobey whatever Allah orders—always doing as commanded."

Hasna stopped in her tracks, the words sinking deep into her consciousness.

"I'm sorry I sprinkled water on your face, but I was just doing my duty," Hamza continued. "I wanted to protect my family from the hellfire. I tried to wake you gently, but you didn't stir, so I resorted to water. And if someday I'm too lazy or fail to wake up for prayer, I give you full permission to pour an entire jug of water on me. Deal?"

Hasna listened, her mind fixated on one word—family.

Was she really his family now?

She left the study, feeling a conflict of emotions swirling within her.

[fallen-angel-92]

Chapter 1

She was not where she was supposed to be. Birthed from the womb of a goddess and raised as a Spartan. She must try and learn what it means to be a parent all the while trying to navigate this new world she is in.

         “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers (The Lord of the Rings, #2)

 

         Blood flew from wounds. Fists met with flesh before she had managed to slam her hammer into the head of the witch as they landed upon the snow covered ground.  Slowly, she stood up, her dark brown eyes took in the land around her as she placed her hammer back into its proper slot on her hip. It is then she noticed that the buildings that were in front of her were similar in design to those her mother told her about from her world. Just as she started to walk forward toward the building she heard the sound of several pops followed by a female yelping in pain.

         Not thinking much on it, she quickly reached behind her where her two blades rested upon her lower back, pulling them from their sheaths. Blades in hand she darted forward toward where she had heard the sound coming from as she entered what she believed was the main street, she instantly noticed a woman holding her son close to her.  There were several men surrounding her and the child holding what she assumed were automatic weapons not waiting for anything to happen, she charged at them. One of the men heard her approaching from behind, as he turned to see her fully, she used her right hand to swing a blade severing his throat.

Blood spurted from the wound causing  the other men that were nearby to turn toward her with their weapons raised. Before they could start firing on her, she quickly sank both her blades into the chest area, releasing the handles of the blades and stepped back. This allowed her to summon chains of molten rage to flow from her hands as she reached the end of the chain within her tight grip, she quickly swung the man toward the others sending them flying backward into a nearby wall. The wall collapsed most likely killing them in the process, as soon as her blades were back into her hands she felt something graze her left arm from behind.

She turned around raising her left arm, allowing her shield to spring forth just as her father's did. She could hear the pinging of the bullets ricocheting off it, not standing idly she ran toward the last man, as soon as she was close enough she slammed the shield into his head. She watched as his body hit the floor before shoving her blade into his heart. Once she was sure he was no longer moving, she removed the blade from his body, and then sheathed both the blades before pressing a button on her arm armor to withdraw her shield back. Her eyes glanced from the body toward the woman and child.

She could see the fear and curiosity in their eyes, however, she did not want to remain in this area. However, she did not want to leave the two in the midst of what she assumed was a war torn realm.

“You two should leave. Especially since you have your son with you,” she spoke out wtih a low growl.

She watched them for a moment before she turned back around to leave the area once she could see the brunette woman slowly get to her feet. She did not move over two feet away when the woman called out, accent thick upon her voice, “Wait! It is dangerous here. I can offer you shelter in return for your assistance earlier.”

She turned around looking at the woman before letting out a soft huff,” I can take care of myself, however, I am in need of lodgings until I can make my own home.”

She watched as the woman nodded her head, picking her young son, and jerked her head toward the street behind her,” Follow me. I'll show you back to our home. My name is Madonia Muller and this is my son Jake. May we ask for your name?”

“You may call me Rhea,” She replied back as she followed through several streets, taking note of the war torn conditions. 

“It is an honor to meet you, Rhea. Can you tell me where you are from? I saw a light and then you appeared,” Madonia asked as they entered what appeared to be some form of housing area near the outskirts of the town.

“I am from an ancient place. One that cannot be reached through normal means. That is all I will say,” Rhea replied as they stopped in front of the door of what appeared to be a quaint little house. 

It was obvious by the boarded up windows as well some of the damage done to the outside walls.  Madonia reached into her pocket, pulling out a key and opening up the door. Once they were inside, Rhea was greeted to a homely house, Rhea glanced upon the walls and could see that they had several photos of both her and her son. However, her attention was drawn away by Madonia speaking,” I understand. Please follow me. I'll show you to the guest room. You can rest there.” She sat the young boy, Jake, down onto the ground before signaling her to follow.

Rhea watched out of the corner of her eyes as Jake climbed up onto the nearby couch, sitting down and watched as Rhea and his mother passed by. She followed  Madonia down a small hallway toward a door, they stopped in front of it. Madonia opened the door allowing Rhea to see that it was a somewhat small room with a medium sized bed and several small dressers.

“It's not much, but you are more than welcome to use it as thanks for save me and my son,” Madonia spoke softly to her.

Rhea simply let out a hum as she stepped inside and looked around before speaking gruffly,” This will suffice I need not more. Tell me why were those men trying to kill you and your son?”

Rhea noticed the hesitation to answer her question, unsure if she was trustworthy, however, she noticed a familiar set of blue eyes peering around the doorframe. Rhea let out a small huff as she spoke,” A story for another time. It seems the boy needs you.”

At the mention of her son Madonia turned to face her son, walking over to him crouching down and began to speak to him in a language she didn't understand. Despite not understanding the language she could see that Jake was uncomfortable in her presence and so she spoke out loud,” The boy is obviously uncomfortable with my presence. Any further conversations regarding the situation outside and about me I am sure can be addressed in the morning.”

Madonia glanced over at Rhea with a slightly grateful look before nodding her head, wrapping an arm around her son's shoulders she said,'' You are correct. Come Jake, let us leave so Ms. Rhea can sleep.”

“Okay mom,” Jake muttere, lowly as he glanced up at Madonia and then toward Rhea.

Rhea simply nodded to them, watching as they left the room with Madonia closing the door behind her. Once they were gone, Rhea began to remove her blades from her back and laid them upon the nearby shelf. She then took off her hammer, staring at the black and red metal for a moment before setting it on the floor. She walked over to the bed, sitting down upon it before allowing herself to lay in it properly after she removed her boots. As she laid there, she stared up at the plain ceiling and began to wonder how her family was doing without her. Rhea hope that no one blamed themselves for her choices before she closed her eyes and drifted off into a fitful slumber. 

(Hope you enjoyed this new RE fanfic! Let me know what you think.)