#since i’m working @ this new job i’ve also had less time i fear.

[spidrboots]

i’ve gotta hop off for the night but !! i’ll get to dm’s tomorrow & will probably work on cleaning up my blog when i’m not at work & have the energy. bye for the night, all ! rest easy & say it back maybe. ♡

[thegreymarveljedi]

Surprise for You

(Wrecker x Reader)

Here is a story that came to me out of the blue, super happy and fluffy with some spice thrown in. Why not right? I love Wrecker’s character, he’s a giant teddy bear with a heart of gold and a winning smile.

All of the bad batch deserve to be happy and that’s how this one shot goes. Tech is alive in this one too, if you’ve read my other stories you know why, cause I also love him and he didn’t deserve to die. This is a post! Tantiss story so they’re on Pabu living their best lives.

(Divider done by @snotbuggle )

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUTT, lingerie, teasing, p in v sex, size! Kink, breeding! kink, nipple play, rough sex, slow/fast pace, oral f! Receiving, pet names, cum play, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, cumflation

Words: 6.6+K (I’m not sorry)

“Mesh’la! I’m home and I’ve got dinner for us!”

“Sounds good honey! I’ll be right out okay?”

“Take your time ner sarad,” Wrecker spoke as he placed the fresh vegetables and fish on the counter in their kitchen. He smiled contently at the little home they had built together. It was a cozy place where he could relax and not have to look over his shoulder for fear of danger. Big enough for him to fit comfortably and have plenty of manoeuvring room but small enough not to feel overwhelming and uncomfortable.

Wrecker and his brothers had been living on Pabu for close to a full year now, making their own way and helping the citizens of the island as best they could. He himself had become a fisherman, going out on the boat daily and catching what he could. He found that he enjoyed the serenity that fishing brought, the cool breeze off the ocean making him feel like he was receiving a very nice hug. The other fishermen who went with him enjoyed listening to his stories as well as his joy when he’d catch a big fish, his happiness and excitement contagious.

Hunter had become a woodworker, making things for the island and helping to build things when needed. He was skilled with his hands, helping to build new homes and improve currents ones. He had found such peace in the work, using his enhancements for crafting and various carpentry jobs.

Crosshair had made his living as a farmer, growing fruits and vegetables and selling them at the local market. It had taken him a few weeks to truly feel comfortable being around the people especially after loosing his hand. But slowly and surely he came out of his shell. He became a new person; less snarky, more relaxed and a lot happier.

Tech had become a doctor and a therapist, working in the island clinic along side (Y/N). He had wanted to do something more with his vast knowledge after Tantiss. He was determined to stay away from the fighting but still wanted to aid his traumatized brothers. He found peace in helping, always being there for any clone that Rex and Echo brought to the island.

(Y/N) had been the Bad batch’s Jedi medic since just after the start of the war. She had been so soft spoken and kind to the batch. Always there to lend a hand and patch them up after difficult missions.

She and Wrecker had gotten together during the middle of the war, both shy in showing their love for one another but it was meant to be. After everything they had been through, together and as a squad, they deserved to be happy.

Wrecker had proposed right after Tantiss, not wanting to waste another minute of time without calling (Y/N) his wife. She had said yes without a second thought and everyone was ecstatic, Omega most of all. She saw (Y/N) as a mother figure and couldn’t wait to have some part in the wedding.

She had insisted on helping with every step she could, even learning to make dresses if she needed to. Everyone had laughed at her enthusiasm, happy that she was so excited.

Wrecker sat on the couch, reclined with his head resting on the back of it and a smile on his face, reflecting on the past year. Life was good now, Tantiss far behind them. He was content and his brothers were happy which is all he could ask for. He had a beautiful wife, a great home and loving people surrounding him. It was all too good to be true, but it was his reality now.

“Jariler?”

Wrecker was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the voice, turning his head to the side a little at the call of his nickname, though he was not prepared for what greeted him. His eyes went wide as saucers, sitting up a little at the sight of his wife in the doorway to their bedroom.

(Y/N) was wearing the most gorgeous silk lingerie, red in colour, paired with a sexy and seductive long black robe. Both pieces of clothing extenuated her body, hips and breasts both looking evening bigger than normal. Her legs were shimmering in the dying light of the day that cascaded through the window, her face lighting up in a golden hue.

“Woah,” was all Wrecker could think to respond with, all other words and thoughts leaving his head as he stared at his wife. She smiled shy at him, adjusting the robe a little bit and doing a little spin, causing the robe to fan out around her.

“Do you like it?” She asked and Wrecker just kept staring at her, his mouth open and eyes wide. He had no words available to him to describe how amazing she looked, her beauty unmatched by anything he had ever seen. She began to fidget a little more before Wrecker finally snapped out of his shock and stood up quickly, making a beeline for (Y/N) and wrapping his arms around her. He picked her up and spun her around making her laugh, his own joyous chuckle leaking out into the air.

“Mesh’la. You look absolutely stunning in this,” Wrecker said as he placed his wife back on her feet slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. She smiled shyly up at him, her hands resting on his shoulders as she looked at him. Wrecker too another moment to admire her before he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, bulling her cheek once he did. She leaned into his large palm, feeling the warmth radiating off his hand.

At that moment it was just them and nothing else, the world seemingly drowned out around them. The soft sounds of the ocean could be heard and the moon-yo’s too but nothing else existed in their home. Wrecker took (Y/N)’s hand and gave her a spin, resting his hand on her hip as she completed the 360 turn. (Y/N) smiled and placed one of her hands on Wrecker’s shoulder again, the other finding his other hand and holding it.

Wrecker clued into what she wanted and lifted there joined hands together, beginning to sway with his beloved in his arms just like they had done on their wedding day. They had no music in the moment but neither of them seemed to care much, and in the dying light of dusk, they danced together in their living room, content just to be in each others arms.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner cyare,” Wrecker whispered softly as he leaned down and placed his forehead against (Y/N)’s. She smiled and returned the words, closing her eyes and allowing the last of the days warmth to envelop her along with Wreckers. She closed her eyes contently, beginning to hum a small tune as their only song to dance too.

Wrecker smiled and moved them around the living room a little more, twirling (Y/N) around and watching as the robe fanned out around her once more. It was mesmerizing to watch, the fabric soft and luscious, making her look like a vision from the maker. Wrecker pulled her back into his arms, slowing their movements down until they were swaying in place again, smiling like idiots at one another. They stayed there for another moment before Wrecker let go of her hand, moving to place it against her other hip.

She smiled as a small shiver ran through her body, Wrecker’s hands moving to be inside the robe she wore, running them up and down her sides teasingly. He squeezed her hips before moving his hands down to ass, giving it a firm squeeze making (Y/N) gasp.

“Wrecker,” she whispered to him, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. He had a mischievous smirk on his face as he continued to fondle her behind, pulling his wife impossibly closer to him.

“Yes my love?” Wrecker replied his eyes roaming over her chest. He was fixated on her breasts, the material of her lingerie framing them perfectly. It made them look so round and perfect, her nipples poking through the fabric as another shiver wracked her body.

(Y/N)’s body arched into Wrecker’s touch as he moved his hands upward, running his thumbs over her perked nipples. She whined at the feeling, her legs beginning to shake as Wrecker teased her. She had worn the lingerie to entice him, though the amount of love he had shown her had been a nice addition to the sexy night she was hoping to have. She keened again as Wrecker continued to play with her breasts through the fabric of her bra, the words she had on her mind evaporating before they could leave her lips.

“What is it net sarad?” Wrecker asked again, his smirk only growing wider as he watched (Y/N)’s nipples harden even more. He knew what he was doing to her, playing her body like a well practiced instrument with dexterity and ease. (Y/N) keened again, her hands finding some purchase on Wreckers biceps, squeezing the firm muscles as a way of grounding.

“Need you Wrecker… please,” she moaned out as Wrecker gave her breasts a squeeze grinning as she threw her head back. He knew what he was doing to her but he also knew what she was doing, he outfit of choice not just something casual she would usually wear around the house.

“Is that what this outfit was for? Get me all worked up so I would fuck ya mesh’la?” Wrecker said huskily and (Y/N) nodded, not even trying to deny her intentions. She could never lie to her gentle giant husband, Wrecker being able to read her like time bomb instruction manual. Wrecker chuckled darkly at his wife, pulling away almost fully to gaze over her gorgeous body again.

“I could devour you cyar’ika. Make you cum on my tongue again and again and again,” he said and pulled her back into his, burying his face in her neck. (Y/N) let out a sinful moan as Wrecker bit down, sucking a mark into her flesh as a way to claim her as his.

“But,” he said and pulled back, admiring his handy work on her neck. She stood there with glazed eyes, legs shaking and an adorably dopey grin on her face, though it disappeared when Wrecker pulled away fully.

“B-but what?” She asked shakily and reached for him, afraid that something was wrong.

“We need to eat dinner first! I don’t want these ingredients to go to waste,” he said with a smile, one that told (Y/N) that he was genuine. She titled her head to the right and tried to hold back a small sigh of frustration, the mood of their previous activities almost completely vanishing. She nodded and went to turn away, ready to walk back to their bedroom and get changed into other clothes.

Before (Y/N) got three full step away from him, Wrecker let out a playful roar and came at her from behind, picking her up and spinning her around again. He laughed at the yelp she let out, her body tensing before she relaxed her feeling meeting the ground again. Wrecker pulled (Y/N) against him, grinding his still semi hard erection against her plump behind, reaching his hands around her body to grab at her breasts again. She moaned at both sensations her head falling back against his chest as he ravaged her body and neck, peppering nips and kisses wherever he could reach.

“You didn’t think I was serious did you?” Wrecker whispered in her ear, his voice deep and teasing. (Y/N) nodded and curled her arms up to hold Wreckers forearms, his hands still playing with her breasts.

“O-of course I thought y-ohh, you were serious,” she replied quietly, hearing Wrecker chuckle deeply.

“I would never do that to you cyar’ika. You’ve got me harder than durasteel right now with how sexy you look,” he said huskily, voice dripping with the promise to take her to bed and fuck her good.

“Mmm, Wrecker. Honey please.”

“You go get comfy in our bed ner Sarad. I’m going to put the fish and vegetables away quickly,” he said and (Y/N) nodded, practically sprinting back to their bedroom when Wrecker released her, looking forward to their night of fun to come.

Wrecker chuckled as he watched his beloved wife retreat to their room, ready to fuck her brains out all night long. He quickly followed through with his previously stated task, putting away his catch of the day along with the vegetables in their big fridge before he too made it to the bedroom.

As he got closer to the room he could see a faint light coming from it, a sweet smell that he somehow didn’t catch before wafting out. When he entered, he was greeted by the soft smell of berries and vanilla, incense burning on the dresser and tea candles lighting the room in a soft glow. Everything else had been set up as well, their usual canteens of water and a pile of snacks for after their love making as well as clean sheets and towels waiting to be used.

(Y/N) was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, robe now discarded and hung up as to not get ruined and her lingerie set still remaining on her body. They made eye contact as Wrecker entered the room, both looking over each other with hungry eyes. Wrecker let out a teasing growl, his Adam’s apple rippling and his muscles tensing. (Y/N)’s eyes roamed over her husbands frame, his body large and intimidating to most but soft and welcoming to her. She was practically stripping him with her eyes, yearning to feel his hands on her once again. Wrecker was doing the same, hungry eyes roaming over his wife’s perfect body, imagining all the things that he could do to her.

His eyes focused on her stomach, the soft supple flesh something he always enjoyed playing with. It wasn’t a very common thing but Wrecker loved it, running his hands over (Y/N)’s torso, feeling her soft skin and squishy stomach. Then his mind began wondering even more, to the possibility of other things. He imagined what she would look like big and round, her belly protruding and swollen with their children. Wrecker let the thoughts overwhelm him, imagining having a full house of little ones running around, seeing (Y/N), himself and even his brothers doting on their kids.

Wrecker was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his cheek, flinching at the unexpected contact. He hadn’t even noticed (Y/N) get up from the bed, her hand warm as it rested on his face. He looked down into her eyes, her (E/C) pools conveying an aura of slight confusion.

“What is it Wrecker? What’s wrong,” she asked quietly, running her thumb over his cheek and underneath his eye. It was then he realized that there were tears streaming down his face slowly, the thoughts of what could be making him emotional. He lifted his hand to hold (Y/N)’s that rested in his cheek, his eyes never leaving hers this time.

“Was just thinkin’ bout our future. Our life together and how happy you make me,” he said, leaning down and connecting their foreheads together in a keldabe kiss. (Y/N) smiled and closed her eyes at the gesture, content to give Wrecker a few moments to explain or to just stay put.

“You make me happy too Wrecker. I’m so lucky to have you in my arms,” (Y/N) replied, moving her body impossibly closer to his large frame, soaking up the natural heat he exuded.

“I can just picture you all big and round, swollen with our ad’ikas inside you,” Wrecker let slip his thoughts, his mind wondering to the future his subconscious mind had conjured up, feeling nothing but love in his heart as he watched his children run around and laugh with his wife following lot to far behind. He was once again snapped out of his thoughts by a soft groan, (Y/N) tapping into his thoughts to see what he was seeing. It was beautiful, so many of them running around and the thought of how they got there made her knees weak and her pussy wet.

They both blinked out of the fantasy together, meeting each other’s eyes once more before Wrecker picked her up with ease, her legs wrapping securely around his waist. He backed them both up to the wall, one that they purposely left completely bare for nights like this. Their lips met in a fiery kiss, the imaginary world they had seen fuelling their already stoked desires. Wreckers hands were on (Y/N)’s behind in a heart beat, fondling her rounded globes and kneeling the soft flesh. She whined into their kiss, his hands feeling immaculate as they groped her ass.

“Honey,” (Y/N) moaned, breaking the kiss as Wrecker pulled away and buried his face in her neck, nipping and sucking marks into it. She giggled slightly before sighing as he reached her ticklish spot, sucking a mark onto it before blowing a raspberry to the spot.

“Wrecker!” She laughed as he chuckled, planting more little kisses all over her neck and face. Her smile was wide, meeting her eyes and creating crows feet at the sides. Her hands wrapped around his neck, her legs squeezing his waist and grinding herself against his front.

“Kriff, mesh’la that feels so good,” Wrecker said, his eyes closing as he savoured the feeling of his wife grinding on him. One of his hands moved from her ass and instead took hold of her wrists, pinning them up above her head. The new angle elongated her torso, her breasts bouncing as her core was somehow placed more firmly against his crotch.

Wreckers eyes found (Y/N)’s chest again, her breast practically in his face with the position they were in. Her nipples were hard, the little pebbles poking through the fabric of her bra. Wrecker growled and dove forward again, this time hiding his face between her boobs before turning his head and taking one of her purt nipple into his mouth. (Y/N) moaned at the sensation, Wrecker’s talented tongue and the fabric of the bra working together to bring her so much pleasure. Wrecker’s other hand gravitated up towards her other breast, taking the pert little bud between in large fingers and rolling it.

“Fuck baby that feels so good,” (Y/N) moaned her head thrown back as Wrecker lavished her chest with attention and affection. Wrecker growled against her, moving back up her body to her neck once more. He laid a few more bite marks around her neck as his hand continued to tweak one of her breast. The feeling made her grind down even harder on Wrecker’s crotch, chasing her release already.

Wrecker must have understood her body language like he always does, lifting his thigh and pushing it against the wall, effectively having (Y/N) ride his thigh. She groaned is Wreckers good ear, feeling his thigh tense as she begin to grind on it.

“That’s it mesh’la, grind your pussy on my thigh. You like it don’t you?” He teased, not allowing her a response as he sealed his lips against hers. All (Y/N) could do was moan into the kiss and she sped up her pace, her high right there. Wrecker indulged her, tensing and relaxing his thigh over and over until (Y/N) broke the kiss and cried out.

“Wreckerrr!” She moaned as she was thrust over the edge, her orgasm hitting her like a tone of bricks. Wrecker smirked as he assisted her in riding it out, slowly dragging his thigh out from between her legs and helping her to set her feet on the ground. (Y/N)’s knees buckled, almost collapsing forward had it not been for Wrecker holding her up. She giggled dazedly up at her husband, her post orgasmic state making her feel light and airy.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you have in you tonight cyar’ika,” Wrecker whispered, letting go of her arms and instead wrapping his around her waist. (Y/N) frantically shook her head, eyes meeting Wrecker’s as she came back to reality again.

“No way am I done. You haven’t filled me up yet,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Wrecker groaned at the filthy words that left her lips, his mind going back to the fantasy he had envisioned when he first walked into their bedroom. His reserve and resolve crumbled as he picked her up by her hips, effortlessly tossing her on their bed. She bounced on the bed and giggled, sitting up on her elbows and letting her head fall back between her shoulders as Wrecker covered her body with his own.

“Gonna make you feel so good cyare. Gonna fill that tight pussy up till you’re you can’t take anymore,” Wrecker said making (Y/N) whimper. The promise behind his words was something she would hold him too, wanting to feel every inch of him inside of her. He was big, and she loved that about him, his size making her feel safe all while giving her an insane amount of pleasure. His body dwarfed her own, making her feel small but loved. He dove back in and kissed down her body, leaving love bites wherever there was exposed skin as he made his way down to her lower lips. They were hidden from his gaze by her beautiful red panties, the lace fabric teasing him as he looked on.

“These look so beautiful on you ner sarad. Shame I’m gonna have to take ‘em off ya,” Wrecker said, slowly trailing his hands down to body to the waist band of her underwear. There was no protest from (Y/N) as she lifted her hips, giving Wrecker more room to remove her undergarments. He did so with delicate hands kissing down her smooth legs as he went. Once he had her panties completely off he brought them to his noes, taking a large inhale.

She always smelled so sweet to him, her natural lubricant something he was enamoured with no matter how odd it sounded. His eyes closed as he took it all before throwing the panties aside and spreading his wife’s gorgeous legs. She didn’t resist the attention, watching as Wrecker exposed her pussy to his eyes. He groaned, not waiting another second before going head first between her legs, licking a long strip from her hole to her clit, pulling a long loud moan from (Y/N)’s lips.

“FUckkk.” Her voice was like a proton torpedo to his ears, the sound making a shutter run through him and straight to his cock. He was already rock hard but the sounds he was pulling from her made him twitch. He continued to devour her pussy, alternating between sucking on her clit and fucking her with his tongue. He was in heaven at this moment, moving her legs so they rested over his broad shoulders. This position gave him more access to her pussy, moving his left hand down to rub her clit as he sucked at her pussy.

“Make me feel so good Wreck. Fuck I love it when you fuck my pussy with your tongue,” (Y/N) moaned, looking down at Wrecker as his eyes looked back at her, his head not moving from its place between her thighs. His fingers and mouth switched places, his lips capturing her clit as he eased a finger into her. He groaned as her pussy swallowed his finger effortlessly, feeling her clench even if he hadn’t done much of anything to her yet.

“Haven’t even stretched you open and you’re already tightening round my finger,” he groaned against her clit, the vibration sending shockwave through her spine.

“Can’t help it big guy, you make me feel so go-“ her finally word was cut off as Wrecker entered two more fingers in at once, pumping them in slowly until he was up to his knuckle.

“Nghh Wrecker baby please, please I need you,” she moaned, falling back into the pillows and wreathing around. Her hips bucked up to meet Wreckers tongue and fingers, drawing her pleasure out.

“Gotta open you up first baby, can’t have you hurting yourself on my cock,” Wrecker teased, beginning to move his fingers in and out of her tight opening faster. (Y/N) screamed, tossing her head from side to side and Wrecker drew moan after moan out of her. Her legs began to twitch on his shoulders, hands coming up to cover her mouth but was stopped by Wrecker taking hold of her wrists.

“No you don’t sweet girl. I want to hear every sound that comes outta that filthy little mouth of yours,” he growled, curling his fingers against her g-spot making keen and moan loudly. His words set her body aflame, his fingers, his mouth, him, making her come undone for the second time that evening.

“Ahhhhh~” Her hips bucked as her orgasm overwhelmed her, key shaking and spasming with the force of it. Wrecker held her hips still as she twitched, eyes closed as she continued to convulse. Wrecker smirked as he watched his wife come undone, proud of himself for what he could accomplish. Wrecker didn’t hold back as he thrusted his fingers into (Y/N)’s still clenching walls, making her yell in surprise before another scream left her lips.

“W-w-wreckerrrrr.” Her voice was broken as Wrecker continued to finger fuck her again, scissoring his fingers against her velvety insides. His goal was to make her come at least one more time before he impaled her on his large cock, not wanting to hurt her. It didn’t take long for him to accomplish this goal and (Y/N)’s back arched, a pornographic sound leaving her lips as she exploded.

Wrecker braced himself against the bed as the force of her orgasm forced his fingers out of her dripping pussy, her juices exploding all over the sheets and himself. Wrecker watched awe as (Y/N) squirt, her pussy opening and closing as she panted heavily. (Y/N) opened her eyes to look at Wrecker, watching at he took his fingered into his mouth and sucked them clean of her cum. (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back, her body still twitching with the feeling of her orgasm and the over stimulation.

“That was beautiful cyar’ika. Such a good girl for me,” Wrecker said, listening as (Y/N) huffed out a laugh at his words.

“Fuck,” was all she could get out as wrecker chuckled and made his way up her body. He kissed along her torso, feeling the thin layer of sweat that kissed her skin. When he reached her lips again, Wrecker captured them in a loving kiss, one too delicate for the service he had just provided her with. (Y/N) brought her hands up to Wrecker face, holding his cheeks as she deepened the kiss, tasting herself in his lips.

When they pulled away from one another, (Y/N) found nothing but love and adoration in Wrecker’s gaze, his eyes glazed over as he looked at her.

“That was something else my love. So fucking sexy,” Wrecker said making (Y/N) smile.

“I’m glad you thought so Wreck,” she said, smoothing her hand down to the top of his shirt before giving it a tug, “but I really really need you to fuck me.” She emphasizes her words with another tug to his shirts, needing to feel his skin against hers.

Wrecker couldn’t argue with her, wanting to feel her tight heat wrapped around his engorged cock. Wrecker pulled away from her completely and made quick work of stripping off his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room as his belt and pants hit the ground next. (Y/N)’s mouth was watering at the sight of her husband, naked and dripping just for her. Wrecker was a gorgeous man, body sculpted as if he by the maker himself, his cock hanging heavy between his muscular thighs, the tip angry and red, dripping with precum.

(Y/N) groaned at the sight, taking in everything about Wrecker even if she had seen it many times before. His size always amazed her, the length and girth of his cock something that always made her pant. She sat and quickly took good of Wrecker’s large appendage, stroking it as best she could with both hands. The gentle giant groaned the sensation, his head falling back as he enjoyed the attention from his wife. Her hands were the perfect size for his cock, both hands encompassing him. (Y/N) lifted his cock to her mouth, licking a strip up the veiny side before placing a kiss to the swollen tip.

“Fuck mesh’la. Do that again,” Wrecker said, his hands making their way into (Y/N)’s hair. His wife obliged his wishes, repeating her previous ministration before taking the tip of Wrecker’s cock into her mouth fully. The he groaned at the sensation, tightening his grip on her hair but not pushing her any further. From her position, (Y/N) flickered her eyes up to look at Wrecker, watching his face contort into one of sheer bliss. She smiled around him before closing her eyes, hollowing her cheeks, and taking a deep breath before taking more of him into her mouth.

Wrecker moaned a loud uncontrolled moan, his cock twitching in (Y/N)’s mouth. It felt so good, it away felt like heaven when his wife had her warm mouth wrapped around him. One of her hands left his cock and instead, made its way to his heavy sack, his balls full and ready to combust. She held them gentle in her hands, knowing how sensitive they could be especially when love making. She could feel Wrecker’s hold on her hair tighten ever so slightly more, his breath coming out in short pants.

“Love it when you suck me off cyar’ika. Love the feelin of my dick in your mouth, feels so good,” he praised, his words going straight to (Y/N)’s cunt. She moaned around him with in turn made wrecker groan again, forcing her mouth a little further down his cock. (Y/N) choked in surprise before steeling herself and her confidence, taking as much of Wreckers as she could. It was a little easier with no gag reflex to hold her back, but Wrecker was so big it was still a struggle at times.

(Y/N) gave Wreckers sack a gentle squeeze , rolling them in the palm of her hand as she sucked her husband’s cock. She moved up and down his cock, his hands slightly guiding her movement to help her as she tightened her lips. Wreckers resolve was crumbling, his legs beginning to tremble at the tremendous feeling of his wife giving him head.

“Mmm ad’ika, such a pretty mouth on ya. So good at sucking my cock. You love it don’t you sweet girl, deepthroating my dick so far it bulges in your neck.” Wrecker’s words were filthy, emphasizing his last point by wrapping one of his hands around her neck very gently. She could feel the way his cock protruded out while deep in her throat, the realization only adding to her pleasure and his.

“Fuck Mesh’la,” Wrecker shouted, feeling himself teetering on the edge of his orgasm. But he couldn’t do it yet, not in her mouth, he needed to be inside her pussy. Wrecker held (Y/N)’s hair and pulled her off his cock, a few strings of saliva connecting them together. (Y/N) whined in protest, already missing the feeling of him inside her mouth.

“Why’d you stopppp,” she whimpered, Wreckers deep throaty chuckle making her pout. He spoke no words as he lifted her up and flipped her over, depositing her on the bed on her hands and knees. She let out a short “ahhh” of surprise, not having been fully ready for the move.

Wrecker slotted himself behind her, grinding himself against her plump round ass cheeks. He bent over (Y/N)’s body, kissing up her back to between her shoulder blades, moving his hands up and down her side. He took a second to unclasp her bra finally, tossing it aside before bringing his hands around to grab at her breasts again. (Y/N) sighed, the feeling of Wrecker’s big warm hands on her chest something she would never tire of.

“Ready for me mesh’la? Ready to take my big cock in your tight pussy,” Wrecker whispered in his wife’s ear, feeling a full body shudder run through her as she nodded.

“Please Wrecker. Please honey, fill me up. Need you inside me please,” she pleaded, wiggling her ass again his crotch. Wrecker groaned in her ear, pulling back to line himself up with her cunt. He teasingly ran his tip over her slit and down to her clit, collecting her essence to use as lube. She moaned at the feeling, falling forward and burying her face in the pillows. With this position, her ass was in the air, ready and waiting for Wrecker to take her. He got the message quickly, taking a deep breath, moving his hands to her hips and lining himself up with her.

Slowly he sunk his girthy cock into we wet waiting cavern, moaning lowly as she basically swallowed him. (Y/N) gripped the sheets of their bed, burying her face in the pillows while trying to keep from screaming at how good it felt to have Wrecker inside her.

“Fuck ad’ika, you take me so well. So stretched out around me,” Wrecker said, sinking a few more inches in before coming to a halt. (Y/N) whined again, fisting the sheets as Wrecker stilled inside of her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, watching as Wrecker took deep labouring breaths, eyes closed.

“You okay big guy?” (Y/N)’s voice was teasing even if she was out of breath, wiggling her hips to entice her husband. Wreckers hands tighten on her hips like vice, his gaze hard but his lips pulled up in a sinful smirk. He said nothing in retaliation to (Y/N)’s words but instead, thrusted the rest of his cock into her making her scream.

“FUCKK!”

“That feel good an’edee?”

“So gooddd. Please move please please please,” (Y/N)’s words were jumbled together as Wrecker caved and gave her what she wanted, what they both wanted. He thrusted into her tight heat slowly, drawing out the sensation of her smooth walls against his veiny cock. They moaned together as Wrecker fucked into her, slowly, wantingly, hands holding her love handles and using them to his advantage.

He picked up the pace, thrusting into her wet walls faster making her jolt and groan into the sheets again. His balls slapped against he clit, the feeling eccentric and even more pleasurable than before. She couldn’t contain her sounds of pleasure as Wrecker ravaged her pussy, impaling her with his impressive length.

“Fuck Wrecker, please fill me up. Fill me with your cum. Pleaseeee,” (Y/N) pleaded, jerking her hips back to meet Wreckers thrusts. He groaned at the display, tightening his grip on her hips before speeding up his pace relentlessly. The new speed made (Y/N) scream, his cock reaching new points inside her pussy, even pushing on her cervix.

“Oh fuckkkkkk.”

“That feel good ad’ika? Does my big cock feel good inside you?”

(Y/N) could respond as Wrecker fucked the air right out of her lungs, his thrusts taking her breath away with ease. He was close and he could feel that (Y/N) was too, her cunt clenching around him and halting his thrusts momentarily. He leaned over her body dwarfing her with his size and reaching around to grab at her breast again. Using his brute strength, Wrecker lifted (Y/N)’s torso up so that her back rested against his chest. He tweaked her nipples and rolled them between his toe finger and thumb making her moan even more. He began to thrust into her at a rough and brutal pace, skin slapping against skin the only sound to be heard besides pornographic moans.

“Fuck Wrecker! Pleasepleasepleasee!” From here, he looked down to see that her belly was bulging with every thrust of his cock, the sight something that almost sent him over the edge. Wrecker leaned down ever so slightly and nipped at (Y/N)’s ear, growling into it and letting one of his hands travel down her body to where her stomach bulged with his cock.

“Gonna fill you up so much an’edee. Gonna breed this little pussy, toy want that don’t you cyar’ika.”

“YESSS! I want it so bad.”

“Gonna cum so hard inside you that it sticks. Gonna make you all round and swollen with our ad.”

“Wrecker!!” (Y/N) came with a shout of her husbands name, lower lips clenching and pussy convulsing around him. Her whole body twitched with the force of her orgasm, everything around them disappearing. Wrecker moved his other hand down to her clit, furiously rubbing the over sensitive bud to draw out her third orgasm of the night. She screamed again, legs trembling as she squirted for a second time that night, her body going rigid.

Wrecker thrusted a few more time before bending (Y/N) back over and stilling, coming with a shout of her name. He came deep inside her, his cum painting her walls and leaving nothing untouched. She could feel it in her tummy, his cum filling her up just as he promised. She was on cloud nine, so much excitement coursing through her body. Wrecker was panting above her, his dick still twitching with the simulation and the feeling of (Y/N)’s velvet walls enveloping him.

He slowly and carefully shifted their positions, laying on his side and pulling her with him to lay down. He spooned her body, keeping his softening cock inside her for as long as he could. He made good on his promise to breed her, filling her to the brim with his spend.

There were no sounds but that of their joined laboured breathing, both still coming down from ecstasy. (Y/N) lay there still as a door, limbs feeling like jello and not a thought in her head besides,

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed cyare. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that much,” Wrecker whispered, doing his best not to disrupt the blissful atmosphere they had created. (Y/N) let out a chorus of giggles, her brain foggy with pleasure.

“I feel full,” she said in a daze, her hand travelling down to join Wrecker’s on her stomach. She found that her stomach was bloated, a slight bulge present which made her gasp. She turned to look at Wrecker over her shoulder and saw that he was smirking right back at her, pleased with his work.

“I told you an’edee,” he said, nipping at her ear as he felt himself begin to harden again, “gonna breed this little pussy till it takes.”

—————

In my opinion, Wrecker is a big kinky boy who loves to fuck. And no one can change my mind!

Next story is scheduled for January 24th so keep an eye out for it! If you would like to be tagged in it, comment down below or on my ask page!

(Tags: @rinksu-no-joo @maniacalbooper @teesy738 )

[boybandbaby]

Out of My Mind (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-BAU!Reader)

note: connected to this fic but you don’t need to read it to understand

word count: 1719

warnings: mentions of killers and abductions, protective!hotch, mean!hotch (not even really but it happens for like a fraction of a second), mini argument, mini angst and fluff, established relationship, age gap (not mentioned or specified in this fic)

Aaron was working on a local case. While he was technically less than an hour away from you, he felt so far away.

To your surprise, he had called before your schedule lunch time phone call.

He omits a greeting, “Are you going grocery shopping today?”

“Well, hello to you Agent. Wasn’t planning to. You need me to grab those yogurts for Jack again? He runs through them far too quickly.”

“No, no nothing like that. Just try to avoid going there today. Or anywhere if you can help it.” His voice is in unit chief mode.

“Care to tell me why?”

“It’s confidential but it would make me feel better since I can’t be with you right now.”

“Whatever you say boss.” You smile.

“Good. Thank you. Also, you’ve gotten Jack addicted to those yogurts. He’s burning a hole in my wallet buying those things. Let’s not even talk about the sugar rush he gets.”

“He already has so much energy. It’s like having two of him.” You laugh.

“Wouldn’t that be something. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later, honey. I love you, stay safe for me.”

Hotch is always worried about you but knowing there’s a killer running loose near by and the only connection is that all the victims frequent the shopping plaza. It’s the one closest to your apartment, the grocery store you shop at, that’s the reason he worries. The victims all vary in age and looks, so it’s not impossible that you could be hurt or killed by this maniac.

Hotch and the team work hard to find any leads by interviewing employees and customers, checking surveillance cameras and scoping out the area.

The team are back at the office hours later, tossing ideas and theories around when Hotch gets a call that there’s been another abduction. He knows, based on the previous victims that they don’t have much time before her body shows up.

His heart quickens as he’s told that the woman hasn’t been identified yet. That’ll only make their job harder. It’s when he hears that the woman has the same hair color and skin color as you, does he feel a dull ache is his chest and a ringing in his ears.

He hangs up the phone and places a hand on his stomach. He feels sick, almost on the verge of passing out. Rossi is the first and only one to notice his distress, the others having taking a short meal break to sharpen their minds.

Rossi pulls a chair out for Hotch and guides him to sit. “What happened?”

“Dave, there’s been another abduction.” Hotch sighs.

Rossi waits for more because he knows this reaction means there’s a personal aspect to it. Hotch relays the known information and asks Dave to break the news to the team.

Hotch takes a deep breath and quickly calls you. It rings and rings until your voice says, “Sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a name and number and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Bye!”

“Y/n, it’s Aaron. Please give me a call when you get this. Bye.”

He hangs up, dialing again. Ring ring. Ring ring. “Sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a name and number-“

He groans and squeezes the phone in his right hand. He gets the same ring ring and “Sorry I can’t get to the phone right no-“

“Y/n, please pick up. I need you to call me right away.” He calls 4 more times, not only his frustration but his fear kicking in.

He hardly ever texts. Most of your message chain is pictures or little messages from you when he’s away. He rarely responds save for an occasional I love you or I’ll be home soon but you’re both aware of how much your texts mean to him while he’s away.

He sends a multitude of messages in the span of a minute.

Where are you?

Y/n, I’m worried.

Please call me.

Answer your phone, sweetheart.

I’m coming over.

He tells Dave he has a quick emergency and he’ll be back as soon as he can. Dave doesn’t question it, he’s the only one who knows about you at the moment so he figures it’s got something to do with you.

Hotch doesn’t bother with his jacket or briefcase. He grabs his keys and sets out to your apartment. He’s only been there twice, once to pick you up for a date and second, to watch a movie together.

He speeds like a mad man, not slowing for yellow lights or using his blinker as he weaves through cars.

It’s not much of a struggle getting into your building. He’s quick on his feet as he moves to the elevator. It’s unlike him but he pushes the elevator call button more than once. He knows however many times he presses it, it’s still going to come at the same speed.

The elevator dings and he rushes into the small box. That’s what it feels like as he loosens his tie. He’s suffocating, on the verge of a panic attack.

The doors open and he rushes out, an old woman scoffing at his lack of manners. He can’t seem to care or apologize as he knocks rapidly on your door.

The pounding is loud, loud enough to wake up in the other room. You hear your name being called out as you check your phone for the time. You see the various notifications and scramble to throw on something decent.

When you finally answer the door, groggy and ridden with sleep, he starts off with, “Where the hell have you been?” His voice is loud and you can see how mad he is with the way his brows furrow and his body is stiff.

“Excuse me?” Aaron has never been rude with you like this. It’s brought you out of your sleepy stupor.

“You don’t know how to answer your phone? I’ve been calling you and texting you.” He shakes the phone in his hand to emphasize his point.

“And I’ve been sleeping.” You cross your arms and shift to one hip. “Why are you being mean to me?” It’s meant to come out with some spunk and attitude but your voice wobbles.

Aaron’s struck with the realization that he’s hurt you. Aaron is not a mean man, stern and serious but never mean. At least never to you. He’s speechless for a moment, only a small moment as he tries to recollect his thoughts.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighs, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I’m being unjust.”

You’re taken aback by his quick apology and give a short nod. You open the door wider and allow him to step inside.

“What’s going on, Aaron?” You close the door behind him and turn to see him pacing. His hands are on his hips and he’s staring down at the floor.

“I-“ He stutters, looks up at you and opens his arms. “I’m sorry. I projected onto you. I was just worried.”

“Is this about the whole ‘don’t go to the grocery store’ thing?” You step into his arms. You’re both wrapping your arms around the others’ lower back, arms tangled, pelvis to pelvis.

“Yeah…” He never speaks about work matters to you but decides it may be the only way to get out of the dog house, though he’s not sure he deserves it. “There’s been another body. The description of her, she had similar traits to you. They haven’t been able to identify her and I immediately thought the worst.”

“Well, I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sure I didn’t help your situation by not answering. I really was just sleeping, handsome. You advised me not to go out today and I got bored so I took a nap. I hear that you’re a pretty good agent so I figured I’d listen to you and stay in.”

He laughs, it’s strange and unfamiliar the way it comes out and how it sounds. It’s a half sob and half laugh. It’s not a sound you’ve heard from him. He’s relieved that 1. you’re alive and well and 2. that you don’t seem to be as mad at him as you should be.

But you know his job and you know what he’s been through so you cut him some slack. “I know you’re worried but I promise I’m safe. I’m good, Aaron. If I felt scared or that I was in danger, I would let you know. I’m sorry my ringer was off. I promise to keep it on moving forward.”

“I would greatly appreciate it.” He leans forward to rest his forehead on yours.

“And instead of breaking down my door, I can give you my spare key. That way you can come check up on me whenever you’d like. Maybe even stop by for a visit when you’re free and missing me.” You kiss his cheekbone, just under his left eye. “How does that sound?”

“That sounds great.” He closes his eyes and leans into your lips. “God, can’t believe I was such a jerk.”

“You’re just protective. It’s sweet. Though I’ll say I’m not a huge fan of you raising your voice. It’s unlike you.” You mumble against his skin.

“I know.” He sighs, “maybe I need one of those naps you talk about.”

“A nap would be good. Maybe get rid of your grumpiness and finally get some rest.”

“I have to head back and finish the case. I’ll be late tonight but maybe we can have a late dinner. I’ll come back and use my key for the first time.” He doesn’t realize it but he’s swaying your bodies, almost like a slow dance.

“I’ll cook us up something. Just text me what you want.”

“Just make sure your ringer is on.” He kisses your jawline. “Or I might have a heart attack.”

“My apologies Mr. Hotchner. Now go, get back to work.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Oh and apologize to Mrs. Carter for me. I almost tackled her when I exited the elevator.” He sheepishly adds before running out the door.

“Aaron!” You grumble. “She already hates me!”

You hear his deep laughter down the hallway and descend into the elevator.

[vodika-vibes]

😌 idk if my first request for a fox x reader went through but i’ve been reading a lot (ofc whats new) and uh uh I found I really love fics with CX-2 (Clone Assassin) aND SO, to my favorite SW writer I ask;

How bout a soulmate au with CX-2 (?) Could be a bit of angst with a happy ending, and everyone is just wondering how reader could be with him after all the things he’s done (uh im getting sunshine!reader x grumpy character vibes)

dont have to write this! i just would love to see some more cx-2 fics after reading one just now lol also im down the rabbit hole again that its cx-2!tech whose been reconditioned, do what you feel is best but i just love that theory bc I’m a firm believer too that tech never died 😌

Protective

Summary: For a long time, your parents feared that you didn’t have a soulmate. Until, one morning, you woke up and found a wild dog curled up next to you on your bed. You named him Noir, and the people around you quickly learned that he was fiercely protective of you. However, after Noir kills an Imperial Officer after he threatens, you have no choice but to go on the run.

Pairing: CX-2 x F!Reader, background Tech x Phee

Word Count: 2799

Warnings: None

Prompt: Soulmate AU - soulmates have spirit animals representing each other.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I wasn't able to get the angst to work, largely because I wasn't in an angsty mood. Also, as much as I love the CX-2 being Tech idea, I had a different idea for this fic, so I hope you like it!

“What d’ya have there, Noir?” You ask as you return to the small hut that has been your home for the last three months and crouch in front of your oldest companion.

Noir’s tail wags rapidly as he nudges something in your direction.

You gently rub his head, then carefully pick up his offering, “Oh, it’s a fish. Did you find dinner for us, pal?”

Noir releases a happy yip, and you laugh softly, “Good job, Noir.” You stand and carry the fish over to the rough kitchen to divvy up the portions. Most of the fish will go to Noir, while you’ll prepare your portion with some seasoning that the Wookies traded with you.

Three months ago, Noir slaughtered an Imperial Officer who threatened your life. You’ve always known that he is fiercely protective of you, and you knew that there was a chance that he would kill again if you were threatened.

The first time it happened you had still been a child. Your uncle tried to kidnap you, and Noir reacted violently. 

That time, the authorities just nodded and said it made sense, that your uncle had bad intentions. Neither you, nor Noir, were punished for the death of your uncle.

The Empire is much less understanding.

You had no choice but to take Noir and flee from Coruscant.

The pair of you bounced from planet to planet for several months and then were offered a safe house on Kashyyyk, in the Shadowlands far below the treetop homes of the Wookie people.

It’s not easy.

You are, at your heart, a city girl. Hunting and survival skills do not come naturally to you. Luckily, you have Noir. He really is the greatest equalizer.

If not for him, you’d have died several times since you moved into the small hut.

The biggest downside to this whole situation is the knowledge that you’re not likely to ever meet your soul mate.

Well, unless your soulmate is a Wookie, you suppose.

Carefully, you fillet the fish on your cutting board and toss the large majority into Noir’s bowl, the rest is set in a bowl of marinade and shoved into the fridge. 

At least you have electricity. 

Sure, you don’t have a holo, but you do have a radio that allows you to keep up to date on the current events, and, much more importantly, listen to books while you fight to keep the Shadowlands from reclaiming the hut.

You’re about to flip the radio on, when Noir releases a low growl.

A growl low enough that your hair stands on end.

You turn your gaze to Noir and see that his ears are flat against his head and his teeth are bared. Spooked, you reach for your belt and grab your blaster, and then you nudge the door open.

Noir slinks out of the hut and, cautiously, you follow him.

The forest is silent. Eerily silent. 

You scan the forest around you, not that you expect to be able to see or hear anything. It’s enough that Noir is still growling as though he’s on the verge of attacking.

There’s a rustle in a bush, and you lift your blaster, only to lower it as a small, curious-looking creature ambles out. It’s red, black, and white, and you’d almost think it was a raccoon if not for the colors.

Noir is still growling like there’s a threat, but he’s ignoring the small creature, which is still ambling towards you. It stops at your feet and raises on its hind legs, and you crouch to get a better look at it.

When Noir first appeared in your bedroom all those years ago, no one was sure what kind of animal he was. Not even the zoologists at the local university were able to determine a species.

So you spent a lot of time as a child flipping through various animal encyclopedias. And, while you’d never claim that you had a perfect memory, this little creature does look familiar.

“You’re a Red Panda, aren’t you?” You murmur as you lightly stroke the soft fur on top of her head, “Your kind isn’t native to Kashyyyk, how did you get here?” What’s more is that she’s soft, as though someone’s been taking care of her, though based on the scarring around her ankles, she’s been chained up a lot. “Are you someone’s pet?”

The red panda climbs into your arms and promptly falls asleep, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, you’ve clearly been socialized. Maybe I can do something about the scarring.”

Your head snaps up as there’s more rustling and Noir’s growl lowers.

Five Stormtroopers stumble into the clearing, “There it is!” One of them says as he points at the Red Panda in your arms, “Get it!”

You stumble backward as they lift their blasters and Noir launches himself at the Stormtroopers. 

You’ve always known that Noir was quick. Quick and with a strong bite, but the last time you’ve seen him move this quickly was when you were a child. He manages to kill three of the Stormtroopers before they recognize that he’s a threat.

The fourth and fifth, however, turn their blasters on him.

And, for a moment, you think that you’re going to watch Noir die. 

You only think that for a moment, as another man emerges from the forest. He’s clad in black armor, much unlike the stark white armor of the Stormtroopers. And you watch as he uses a blade to kill one of the Stormtroopers from behind. 

You watch as he and Noir work in concert to kill the last of the Stormtroopers.

And then you watch as Noir jumps up on the man, his tail wagging faster than you’ve ever seen before. The armored man seems surprised at how friendly Noir is, and, to be honest, you are too.

He’s so friendly with the armored man, in fact, that you can’t help but think that Noir is the representation of said armored man.

“Noir,” You say, drawing the attention of both the wild dog and the armored man, “His name is Noir.”

It’s kind of hard to read him, seeing as he’s wearing a helmet, but you’re pretty sure that he’s staring at you. “Ka���ra.” He gestures to the red panda in your arms, “She’s been a prisoner her whole life.”

“That explains the scarring,” You walk over to him and pass him his spirit animal, a small smile crossing your face as Noir drops to his paws and bounces around you. “I have some medical stuff, to wrap her scars if you want.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and then nods once, “I’d appreciate that.”

You lead him into the hut, and motion for him to take a seat anywhere while you dig around for the first aid kit.

Once you find it, you set it on the table and open it to dig through what you have left. “You know, you don’t have to leave your helmet on.” You note lightly, “This is a pretty safe place.”

The man hesitates for a moment, then he nods once and reaches up to pull off his helmet. 

You’re genuinely surprised to see that he’s a clone. He looks like every other clone you’ve ever seen, dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin…though he does have some nasty scarring along the side of his face.

He’s handsome, you decide as you focus back on your medkit. He kind of looks like Noir, if you squint.

Though, now you have to wonder if you look like his Ka’ra.

“Ah, here we go!” You pull several rolls of bandages from the bottom of the kit and some scar powder. “If I remember correctly, this needs to be added to water, and then the bandages need to soak in it for a bit before we apply them—” You mumble under your breath as you flip the bottle and squint at the instructions.

“What’s your name?” The man asks.

You glance at him and introduce yourself absently, before you squint at the directions again, “What’s yours?”

“...CX-2.”

You pause, “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve never actually met another person with a soul animal before.”

“It’s rare, then?”

“One of the rarest soul bonds.” You agree, “The only one that’s more rare is the teleportation one.” You stand to grab a clean bowl and fill it with water before placing it on the table.

“I have a brother with the teleportation soul bond. He vanished one day, never saw him again.” CX replies as he watches you.

“Well, there are a lot of you.” You reply as you add some of the powder to the water and stir it in.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, “What is a human doing on Kashyyyk?”

“Ah…well.” You pause, “Noir killed an Imperial Officer who threatened me.”

CX stares at you for a long time, and then his lips curl up into an amused smile, “Good.”

You shoot him a puzzled look.

“He’s as protective of you as I would be.”

“Yeah, well…he is representative of you, right?” You reply with a small shrug.

“I didn’t expect you to be so calm about it,” CX notes, “You do realize that I’m an assassin, right?”

You start unrolling a roll of bandages, “When I was about eleven years old,” You say quietly, “My uncle tried to kidnap me from my bedroom. Noir,” You nod at the wild dog who is gnawing on a bone, “ripped his throat out before he got me out of the living room.” You look at him, “Why should I be afraid of you?”

CX looks startled for a moment, and then a quiet laugh falls from his lips, “I suppose you have good reason to not be afraid.”

You shrug, “I would prefer it if you didn’t assassinate people anymore, but I’d also prefer to not live in a hut on Kashyyyk, so—” You shrug again, and finally drop the bandages into the water.

“What would you have me do instead?”

“Mm, you can join the Rebellion?”

“Ick.”

A laugh falls from you, “I mean when the Republic was still standing, I never had to worry about Republic Officers threatening me. Within a month of the Republic turning into an Empire, I was threatened by an Imperial Officer.”

“...I suppose that it fair.”

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” You say lightly, “We can stay here if you prefer.”

“We?”

“Well, I assume that you want to stay with me?”

CX gazes at you silently, “I want you safe. So staying does make the most sense.”

You meet his gaze evenly, “I’ll definitely be safer with you, compared to away from you.” You agree.

CX is silent for a long moment, “Mandalore.”

“Beg pardon?”

“There’s a group of former Commandos who have a compound on Mandalore. They’re housing clones and their families.” He explains, “We’ll be safe there.”

“How do you know that?”

“All of the Clones know it.” He says, “Well, save for Alpha Prime, I suppose.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I have a ship.”

You grin at him, and then pull the bandages out of the water, “I think it’s a great idea.”

It takes three weeks for you and CX to get to Mandalore, and it takes even longer for CX to prove that he’s not an active threat to his brothers. You’re not able to help with that, but watching him interact with you does a lot to earn him some goodwill.

You like your new home, it’s not Coruscant, but there is plenty of room for Noir to run around and get spoiled, and he does get spoiled. Not quite as much as CX’s Ka’ra, but pretty close. 

Surprisingly, CX is somewhat clingy. When he’s in the same area as you, his arms are around you, or his hand is in yours. You kind of have the feeling that he’s a little touch starved, so you don’t mind it.

On this particular day, you’re lounging in the sun, watching Noir and Ka’ra play together, while CX is sparring with Ordo (only the Nulls aren’t hesitant about sparring with CX, which is sad, but understandable).

You enjoy watching him spar largely because he tends to spar shirtless.

You’re allowed to be a simple woman when it comes to your soulmate, right?

“Watching them again?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your musing, and you tilt your head back to look up at the familiar man approaching you. “You could join them.”

“Hardly, if Ordo so much as scratched me, both Noir and CX would rip him to shreds.” You pat the ground next to you, “Have a seat, Tech. No need to hover.”

“He still wishes to be called CX?” Tech asks as he sinks to the ground next to you.

“It’s his choice.” You reply easily, “How was your physical therapy?”

“Painful,” Tech replies, matter-of-factly, “However, my healer believes that I am getting to the point where I will no longer need to see them.”

“That’s something. Are you thinking of reaching out to your brothers? Or your soulmate?”

“I am…unsure.”

“Oh?”

“I died.” He says bluntly, wincing as CX manages to flip Ordo onto his back, “I died, and my soul bond is weaker than it was before.”

“I assume your doctor has an opinion on that.”

“Of course. He says that I just need to reach out to Phee.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Tech anxiously adjusts his glasses, “What if she has found someone else?”

“Do you really think that she would?”

“...she is a beautiful and clever woman. Any man would be lucky to have her—” Tech starts.

“You’re borrowing trouble, Tech. You need to call her.”

Tech opens his mouth to reply but stops as CX jogs over.

You smile up at him adoringly, and offer him his water bottle, “Having fun, love?”

He smirks, “Ordo is bitching because I managed to flip him. So we’re having a round two.”

“Of course you are.”

He flashes a tiny grin at you and crouches so he’s able to kiss you quickly before he jogs back over to the sparring ring. His training was so different from his brothers, you can tell based on the scars covering his body, and based on the fact that he’s not quite as solid as Ordo and the other Nulls.

Not that any of that matters to you.

You love him as he is.

“It does not make sense to me how someone as kind as you ended up with someone like him,” Tech admits, “He intimidates everyone, and lashes out when pushed.”

“I’ve never been afraid of him.” You reply with a small grin, “Even when he killed someone in front of me, even when he loses his temper.”

Tech shakes his head, “I believe I understand.”

You tilt your head curiously.

“You are just as insane as he is.”

You aren’t able to help that laughter that bursts from your lips, “I suppose,” You say through your giggles, “that’s one way to view it.”

Tech flashes a crooked smile at you, and then gets back to his feet, “I am going to go send Phee a message, and hope that she forgives me. Enjoy your ogling.”

You fling a handful of grass at him but don’t deny his accusations. 

The spar ends an hour later after it gets too hot for them to continue, and CX makes his way to your side, dropping onto the ground next to you. Immediately his arms slide around your waist and he presses his face against your neck.

“Did you have fun?” You ask as you card your fingers through his curls. 

He hums in response, his arms tightening around you, “I’m glad that you don’t mind coming to these.”

“I enjoy watching you spar.”

He pulls his face away from your neck, “You enjoy watching me do anything.” 

“You are ridiculously handsome.” You shift in his grip slightly so you’re able to press your hands against his cheeks, “I’m a lucky lady.”

“Mm, is that right?” CX asks as he leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re all sweaty,” You whisper to him. 

“So maybe we should go home,” He offers with an arched brow, “You can wash my hair for me.”

A giggle falls from your lips, “Deal.”

CX grins at you, and crashes his lips against yours, knocking you back onto the grass.

Everything isn’t perfect, CX still needs gene therapy to remove the enhanced aging, not to mention regular therapy to help deal with all of his issues. But so long as you’re together, everything will be fine.

You won’t allow for anything else.

[shirohige-pirates]

A Truly Mythological Christmas

Cisfem!Reader x Marco the Phoenix

Also on Wattpad // Ao3

18+ - this story is going to get steamy in ways not allowed for your holiday Lifetime specials. Swearing, cheating, assassins, intrigue - you know, all that simple small town stuff.

Chapter 13: Ice Cold

“I can’t sign that severance package.” You tell Katakuri on the phone the next day. He called right after breakfast had wrapped up and you had to leave the boys to Dadan. “The monetary parts are fantastic, but the NDAs, the limitations on what was a personal matter, are just straight up deal breakers. I can’t sign something that limits talking about my own life.”

“I’m not surprised.” He sighs. “But negotiating something different isn’t going to be easy. Mama’s declared this is a slight against the family, and isn’t being reasonable. I’m still trying to reach out to some contacts and see what I can line you up with, but your only options at this point are to come back to work after your vacation, and face pressure I won’t be able to protect you from.” He admits with a sigh.

“Or resign.” 

You sigh in turn, sitting down on the couch. “Yeah… Fuck.”

Getting the news from Katakuri meant it wasn’t going to be covered in bullshit, and false honeyed words, but it didn’t make the truth of it all any easier. The possibility of salvaging your position at the company had already been an impossibility, but now you needed enough control of your future prospects to not have to actually retire. 

And without the severance package, you would have to come back to Sphinx permanently, or at least while you spent what would probably be a couple years looking for a comparable job on your own.

“The good news, if it can be called that, is that we cannot fire you.” Katakuri says. “Mama’s been pushing for it, but there’s nothing for us to work with. Your performance reports are stellar, your attendance, your reviews, even your social media presence doesn’t give her any room.”

“Good to know my stellar track record still makes me less valuable than her son.” You grumble and you hear Katakuri snort. It’s as close as he is to get to laughing, especially in this situation.

“Hang in there Miss Curly,” he says warmly. “We’ll get it to work out by the new year.”

“With you in my corner, I don’t doubt that.” You agree, feeling at least a little better. You might not end up with the outcome that you wanted, but you won’t be job hunting almost endlessly with his support.

“Hey… I…” You make an odd sound as you chew on what you’re about to say, Kata waits patiently, in his experience letting you have an extra second always works out for the best. “This is going to sound insane.”

“I fear whatever you say may be uncomfortably sane, Miss Curly.” He says assuringly.

You grunt. “I’ve recently learned that your mother once had, we’ll say, less than savory connections. I say this because I’m good friends with Edward Newgate’s sons, and that’s how I heard about it.”

“… Ah.” Katakuri’s tone is much heavier. “He and my mother did run in similar circles at one point. It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of the Edward children.”

“Let me tell you another story then, one that can’t possibly be connected.” You say, and then tell Katakuri about the wild adventure you had with your three little brothers yesterday. When you finish the breakdown of events there’s a heavy silence from him.

After a moment he sighs. “Miss Curly, I have to ask, because I don’t know, but is pinky meat a delicacy of some sort?”

“It’s barely fit for survival food.” You balk at the idea of eating it. Once was enough, and that was a dare. “But it is a massive powder pink bird, and it’s not impossible to think someone who didn’t know better would want to bring one down.”

“Alright. I’m going to look into things on my end and I’ll get back to you. Hopefully the next time we chat I’ll have some good news for you.”

“Thanks boss, I appreciate everything, no matter how it turns out.”

“Mm, have a good day, Miss Curly.”

“You as well, Mr. Charlotte.”

Hanging up the phone you lean back and see Dadan looking down at you. “Would you eat pinky meat?”

She grunts. “I think I’d rather eat my own leg.” Pinky meat was pretty bad, but you didn’t know that you’d agree to that extent.

“Where are the boys today?” you question, changing the subject. 

“Off at the school, you were deep into your conversation with your boss and I told ‘em to leave you be.”

“Oh right, school.” You had just about forgotten about the whole concept of grade school. Dadan walks around the couch and comes over to sit in her recliner. “I’m going to be out of your hair in the afternoons, so you can have a little peace and quiet.”

“What’re you up to?”

“Gonna help out at the store.” You admit, hiding your gaze in the cup of coffee she’d handed you.

“Need the wagon?”

“Nah, it’s not that much of a walk.” You assert. “If I need a ride home I’ll give you a call, I should be back for dinner.”

“If you need a ride home it’ll be because someone nicked that SEL.” Dadan grunts and you can’t disagree.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble half-heartedly. 

You and Dadan don’t do much between breakfast and Lunch, letting the early morning be as slow and as lazy as possible. With yesterday’s excitement you were glad for it, and it was nice to have time to relax before going to the store. Considering how “on” you had been since you first got here, it was honestly just nice to have a lazy morning on its own.

Once you’re done with an early lunch you head out, a wave to Dadan as you set off down the driveway. Leggings under your slacks kept you warm, and the simple button up shirt you were wearing would keep you from overheating inside the store. In the meantime the wool-lined winter coat did enough to keep you warm. 

It’d have to storm, and you’d have to be stuck in it for an hour, before you’d be worried about the weather.

You: omw

Marco: Coming in a little earlier than expected?

You: Nah, walking. I’ll be there on time.

Marco: Be careful, there’s a few hunting groups in town, but we aren’t sure which ones were trying to tag that pinky.

You: the closest thing to a gunshot inside the town limits has been mom’s wagon.

Marco: Just be careful, little warrior.

You: <3 

Tucking your phone away you pick up the pace a little bit. It’s getting colder pretty fast, and with snow scheduled for tomorrow, it was lining up to be a nice white winter. But that also meant that the afternoon sun might not be enough to make the walk to the store pleasant, good wool-lined coat or not.

It’ll be nice however, to enjoy a proper snow-covered Christmas. It wasn’t really something that happened in the city. Even if you went to one of the parks there were so many people around that there weren’t just big tracts of undisturbed snow. The cold was still a part of it, and being able to watch your breath rise up into the air, or how the frost glimmered when it coated things, but that just felt like it was teasing you.

You weren’t surprised to see Marco when you reached the general store. He was carrying some bags for a lady who was, herself, carrying a small child. He put the bags in the back of the car while she got her kid settled in, and then gave you a wave as you caught up to him.

Bidding farewell to the customer, he steps away from her car, walking slow enough that you catch up easily.

“Ah that small town service,” you beam, falling in step with him.

“Ah that little bit of guilt trip from a lady who wants to leave her husband, yoi.” Marco mutters and your eyebrows nearly disappear into your hairline.

“Home wrecker,” you tease, elbowing him in the ribs a little.

“I’m precisely the opposite, yoi.” He grumbles.

“You’re just too smooth, you needed to retain some of that goofy-shit!” Your feet slip out from under you from ice you hadn’t seen against the blacktop of the parking lot. You reach out for Marco and He gets your arm, but the angle is awkward, and after a brief pause you shift inside your coat and sit hard on the ground.

There’s a loud POP! when you land and you stay seated for a moment, eyes closed before you let out a sigh.

“You alright, pretty bird?” He questions. You expected more of a teasing tone, but he sounds legitimately concerned.

“I am.” You admit, standing up with a little bit of help. “I’m just hoping that sound was the ice, and not my phone.” You clarify, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. The screen’s not cracked, and the face lights up when you turn it on.

“Well, aside from my pride, everything seems good.” You admit with a good natured sigh.

The two of you head into the store and after getting your things tucked away in his office, Marco takes you out onto the floor and gives you the run down of what’s needed. Most of it is straight forward, just putting things back where they go. People will often trade one brand for another, and sometimes trade out seemingly unrelated foods.

Non-perishables go back to where they belong, as does produce, unless they’re visibly damaged. Anything frozen or meats that aren’t cold anymore just go into waste. If you’re unsure better to pitch it than risk it, as far as Marco’s concerned. It was simple enough.

The first hour goes by with little concern, but your earlier poor luck seems to be rubbing off on the people around you today.

“Whoa!”

“Steady!” 

A heavy crash from the other side of the aisle shakes the shelves you’re working on causing you to take a quick step back in case anything fell. The first voice wasn’t familiar to you, but the second voice was Marco’s. The impact against the shelves gave you a new appreciation for how sturdy they were.

“You okay over there?” You question, looking up and down the aisle to see if anything fell.

“Yeah,” Marco’s voice sounds strained, but he continues and sounds fine. “Poor guy saw his life flash before his eyes for a second there, yoi.”

You hear a nervous chuckle from the other voice. “Sure seems so, thanks buddy.”

“Everything good over there?” Marco asks.

“Yeah, nothing fell.”

“Good, I’m going to ring this guy up, if you want to tidy up over here next.”

You grin at the professional tone. Well, you did tell him to behave while you were helping, so you can’t complain.

“Sure thing, boss.” You hum. You catch sight of Marco and the other guy, a shorter blonde in a baseball cap and a pilot’s jacket. Something about Marco’s grip on the man’s shoulder looked a little awkward, but he was smiling. Something about the other man left you with the distinct impression he said things like “Golly gosh” and “aw shucks”.

Coming around to the other aisle you see the aftermath of the impact. The Christmas tree shaped cone of soups that had been set up was caved in, and a few cans were in the aisle itself. The nearby shelves were in disarray, but not too bad. At least nothing had punctured and was leaking soup concentrate on the floor.

You set about the tedious task of tidying up, and boy Marco was not kidding. Organizing shelves like this was dull work, spacing out was about the only way to really make the time go by, unless there was someone around to talk to. Marco had been busy with customers, even with all cashiers on hand and two stockers it was still a lot. 

They were still working through lines four customers deep when you came in, and you didn’t even think that many people even lived in Sphinx.

Though the town had almost doubled in the last couple years, according to Dadan. More jobs from the tourists, more homes for the people who were working those jobs, and the number of bed and breakfasts were still going up, so it was likely the town’s expansion would continue for a while longer at least. Just slow and steady enough that the small town could adjust to it.

“Doing alright, pretty bird?” Marco asks, coming up behind you and adjusting some items on the top shelf.

“You weren’t wrong, it’s dull work, but I’m happy to be helping.” You admit. “Everything okay with the clumsy guy?”

“Yeah. Gave him a hefty discount to keep it from becoming a headache in the middle of the season.” He says, leaning down and kissing your cheek. “Let me know if you need a change of pace, yoi.”

“I’m good still,” you assure him, smacking his arm lightly. “I said behave.”

“I made no promises,” he retorts with a wink.

“You made minimal promises.” You correct, and he kisses you on the other cheek.

“Considering I’m doing the minimum of what I’d rather be doing, I’d say I’m doing exceptionally well.” His voice is low and right by your ear when he says it and you can feel the heat rush up to your face.

A soft squeeze of your arm and he leaves you in the aisle again, off to check on his cashiers. 

This time when your mind wanders, it’s thinking about the warmth of his hand traveling down your arms. The heat of his body at your back. 

Not just his body, but the warmth of that need.

That desire.

You’d only ever seen Marco angry once, really angry, and that had been when him and Thatch had pulled Teach off you. Both boys were full of rage, where Thatch would show the same level of energy while watching a sport on TV, Marco just didn’t. He wasn’t apathetic by any stretch, but even when he was a dorky kid he was pretty mild, and even-tempered.

Understanding, and supportive…

You shake your head and focus back on the task at hand. You were not going to have a moment of existential clarity in the soup aisle of Pops’ Stop. 

Despite that desire, your mind wandered right where it damn well pleased.

“This is embarrassing.” Marco mutters, face buried against the back of your shoulder as you carry him.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about being carried by a friend.” You huff.

“Everyone else can cross the stupid log, yoi.”

“You’re just afraid of falling,” you point out.

“That doesn’t stop me from falling.” He pouts.

“Then why be afraid of it?” You hum, it was the advice Mama Dadan had given you, and it seems to have worked. “If it’s gonna happen either way, there’s no need to worry about it.”

“It’s not the falling part that-.” Marco stops and sighs. “Thanks for carrying me across.” 

You let go as Marco sets a tender foot on the dirt path. “It’s not me carrying you that bugs you, is it?”

“Huh?”

“I mean like… I don’t mind carrying you. It doesn’t bother me, but I know a boy being carried by a gi-.”

“That’s not it.” He interrupts, putting his hands over his ears cause he knows they’re turning red and you’ll pick on him. “It’s cause it’s not cool to fall off the log.”

You laugh, pinching his hands so he’s not covering his ears anymore. “Why would I care about you being cool? It’s not like you gotta impress me.” 

Ah. 

Leaning your head against the shelf in front of you, you wonder for a moment if you aren’t just going to lose your mind at this rate. It’s not that you were worried about moving too, or too slow. It’s not that you weren’t willing to give it your all, or that you had misgivings about anything. You and Marco worked well together, in several different ways, you knew that. 

Right now, at this moment, it was more the fact that somehow you managed to miss all the signs for almost twenty solid years.

[geraltofriviacollection]

Chapter Six

Paring: Geralt x Reader

Summary: Reader is thrown into the Witcher’s world. Will she survive? Eventual smut may come about😉

A/N: This is the first part in a series. I have not edited or proofread. Please do not repost, translate or copy my work without permission. Please leave comments! ❤️

Things seem to settle into a routine. Ciri spends most of her days training with Geralt when she’s not watching me train with Vesemir. I can hold a steady orb of energy and bring it forth with ease. Tapping into the power I had the night I killed Eskel……

The knot in my stomach tightens watching Ciri train. I fear Geralt may not be enough to pull her back from the edge. Seeing her on the obstacle course makes me nervous. Watching her fall off and stand back up in pain makes me proud of her endurance. Geralt walks with her disappearing into the keep. 

A short time later I start to enter the room where Geralt is bandaging her up but ciri comes flying from the room like a bat out of hell. I start to ask if she’s alright but before the words have left she is already far down the hall. 

I turn going into the room and see Geralt kneeling by the bed and he sighs. “Do I want to know what that whole thing was about?” I ask walking further into the room.  He sighs again at my question. “So I am going to take a shot in the dark and guess that you tried to show that you care by imparting a valuable lesson and ended up saying something stupid with all 10 words you use. Did I miss something?” I challenge. 

“Must you always be like this? Such a pain in my ass.” He growls.

“Well I haven’t made any plans on changing but we shall see where the day takes us. Now spill, what did you say to her?” I ask to get back to the point. 

He looks at me for another moment before sighing and moving to sit on the bed. “I told her that she is not a Witcher and that great fighters all end up dead in the end.” He explains looking up at me. This time it's my turn to sigh. “I only told her the truth.”

“Next time less truth would be good.” I say moving to sit next to him I gently place my hand on his as he doesn’t move it from mine. “You may have told her the truth but you also managed to tell her that you don’t believe she can do it.” I told him. 

“I do believe that she will die if she doesn’t understand she isn’t a Witcher. I will not have her die to prove a point.” He says. 

“Geralt, She has lost everything she has ever known in a matter of months. She is trying to figure out her new place in this world. This is not Ciri proving a point, this is Ciri figuring out who she is again. Our job is to keep her safe while she does that. We won’t let anything happen to her. You just need to learn how to be a tiny bit softer with her.” I tell him. He sighs and squeezes my hand. “Now my next piece of advice is that you go and maybe try to talk to her again.”

A few days later I wake up with a strange pit in my stomach like something is about to change. Almost like smelling the wind before rain. In the afternoon I’m still with Vesemir practicing. I’ve learned how to throw balls of energy in my hands at a target. However my aim still has much to be desired so hitting the target is not going well. 

“Lass, I don’t think I have ever seen someone so bad at something.” He frowns at me stroking a hand down his face. 

“You say that and yet I know how you feel when Everard tries to cook a meal.” I joke wiping sweat from my brow. He laughs as he hands me water. I hop up on one of the benches in the lab. “Ves?”

“I thought we agreed that name would not be spoken aloud again.” He mumbles working on something next to me. 

“I agreed not to speak that name aloud in front of others, since I am your new favorite you have agreed to indulge me.” I grin at him. He rolls his eyes at me. 

“What is it you want to know, Lass?” He smirks. 

“Why aren’t there any woman Witcher’s?” The question hangs in the air before he responds. 

“Over the years since the Witchers came to be, women have been put in the trials. Not a single one of them have survived. Deglan believed it had something to do with the-“ 

I tense as I feel something in the air has shifted. 

“What is it, Lass?” Vesesmir interrupts himself. 

“I don’t know. Something has shifted. I can’t tell much more than that.” I stumble through my explanation. Vesemir comes in front of me and tilts my head side to side. Just then my stomach rumbles quite loudly. He smiles. 

“I think we may have found the problem.” He laughs. We walked down to the great hall only to find Lambert there. Vesemir walks over to talk to him and I naturally go in the other direction considering…. Well everything.

The door opens and Ciri comes in first with a red headed woman behind her and Geralt coming in last. She looks familiar and very pretty. I can seem to place her name. 

“I brought dinner," he says with a dead boar on his shoulders. The rumbling in my stomach halts like a foot slamming in the brakes looking at that thing. A very familiar feeling arises down south the longer I look at Geralt holding that boar. 

“More than that.” Vesemir says breaking my creepy stare and He glances over at me before turning back to the woman. “My child, what a surprise.” He walks to her and she kisses his cheek hello. 

“Oh hell, haven’t even had my fill of grog yet and ,already the women are tripling.” Lambert says. “Merigold.”

“Lambert, I see your wounds have improved but your manners have not.” Light laughter fills the air. 

“I wish you had come sooner. We all could have used you.” Vesemir says to her. Sorrow and guilt make my throat and chest tighten. 

“Hopefully, we still can.” Geralt says, turning to look at me. I’m not at all fond of that problematic transition. Her eyes follow his and she sees me standing there. Ciri sees me for the first time and comes to join me at my side. I smile down at her before looking back up at Geralt and my eyes move back to the red headed woman. 

“I’m Triss. Geralt has told me about you on our walk here.” She smiles at me. I smile back at her. 

“I imagine it couldn’t have been very much, considering that he mainly communicates in grunts.” Ciri and Tris chuckle. 

“I think I might like her.” Tris says, looking at Geralt and them me. He rolls his eyes with a slight uptick in my mouth. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She smiles again at me. “I’ll go and dress for dinner. I assume you’ll want to wash up as well?” She says to everyone. Chuckles go around again. She takes that as a no before leaving the room. 

Ciri takes a seat. “So, How do you know her?” She ask Geralt. He sighs and I smirk before intervening. 

“I'm sure he will tell you all about it after you have washed up.” I tell her. She gives me a look that calls bullshit. “Okay maybe not but that does not change the fact that if you sit here much longer you might smell worse than that boar.” Ciri grunts in discontentment before leaving the room as well.  “You know she gets that from you.” I smirk at him. He rolls his eyes again before walking off leaving me. 

Dinner with Triss is a rather uneventful occasion. I learned enough to know that I like having another female in the keep. Even though we are still woefully outnumbered, the energy has shifted into peaceful uncertainty. Something still feels like teetering on the edge of chaos like a shoe waiting to fall.

I leave the table first, stealing myself away to the armory. I stay there practicing controlling this power to avoid sleeping. The nightmares for killing Eskel haunt me when I close my eyes. Watching the life drain from him is the only part that seems to be crystal clear in my memory. My only hope at night is to push myself hard enough to have dreamless sleep.

 My fear of dreaming is not the only thing that keeps me awake at night. The longer I stay the more I have begun to feel some of my memories of the storyline fade. Not big things but smaller details. I can’t help but to feel purposeful. 

It’s late into the night by the time I leave to head to my room. I am about to turn the corner when I hear voices across the way. 

“If it’s up to me, everyone will know their names.Perhaps  they can live on in our memories. Perhaps something more.” I recognize Triss speaking. “You witchers pretend not to have emotions, but you do. I know you feel it too. All of it. Normal love, normal hatred,normal pain, normal fear and regret, normal joy and normal sadness.” I peak around the corner and across the courtyard I see Triss taking Geralt's hand in hers. “Stay with me tonight.” She says. Geralt starts to talk but Triss cuts him off. “Only stay. Let’s not be alone.” she says. 

‘Nope, don’t like that.’ I think to myself watching this unfold in front of me. I try to suppress my inner psychotic dialogue and try to attempt being reasonable. Geralt probably is lonely and Triss is sad and beautiful. Maybe he should take her up on her offer… Yeah fuck that I’m still not liking it. Just as I’m about to run over to break up whatever the hell this is, Geralt takes his hand from Triss. 

“I’m sorry.” Geralt says before walking away from her. Triss stands there a moment before walking away. I let out a sigh of relief when I heard a voice behind me and nearly hit the ceiling at the abrupt sound. 

“So are you going to tell him?” Vesemir ask once I have calmed down from my near heart attack. 

“Damn it Ves! I almost woke up the whole keep with you coming behind me like that.” I whisper yell at him. 

“From the looks of it you were about to wake the keep by fighting one of the best mages I know.” He said teasingly. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about, old man.” I say lying like a rug through my teeth and starting to turn back around. 

“You and I both know you have feelings for him. I think he might return them if you tell him.” He says, causing me to pause. I nod my head before going to my room.

The next morning I leave the keep on Roach to find a berry patch. I’ve managed to half way fill the basket when I feel the string between ciri and I tighten. The feeling travels through me so abruptly I drop my basket berries and the glow starts. I leave the basket and mount Roach and we rush back to the keep. When we finally make it back I push the reins into Lambert's hand rushing in not even hearing what he says.  I run through the halls and find her in her bed. Geralt standing next to her and Triss sitting on the edge of her bed. 

“I felt it. What happened?” I ask them but panting. 

“She went into some weird trance and passed out a second later.” Geralt explains. 

“What do you mean you felt it?” Triss asks me. 

“How long has she been like this?” I hiss looking between Geralt and Triss.

“Not long.” He tells me. I lean down and the second my hand brushes her cheek her eyes open and I jump a bit at the movement. 

“Cirilla” Geralt calls out to her moving closer. I back up and give her room to sit up. “

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” she repeats covering her face with her hands. Geralt looks at Triss before looking between Ciri and I. 

“Ciri, look at me.” I say to her firmly but gently. “You need to tell us what happened.” I say moving to wrap an arm around her. She leans into me but stays quiet. Geralt comes even closer. 

“You are brave. But let us help.” He says looking at her. She finally moves her hands from her face. 

“All right.” She sighs. “When the black Knight captured me..I was scared. I screamed. 

And that’s when the monolith cracked and fell.” She pauses and looks up at Geralt. “I toppled it.” I hugged her closer to me. I can feel the way she trembles as I hold her. 

“How can that be?” Triss ask looking at Geralt. 

“I don’t know.” Geralt replies. “I need to see it for myself.”

“I really didn’t mean to do it, Geralt.” She says pulling away from me and I can see the tears in her eyes. My chest tightens at the sight. “And if these monsters are my fault…” She trails off looking at me.

“Ciri, Nobody blames you. It was an accident.” I tell her pulling her back to me and she fully sinks in my embrace. A lone tear streaks down her pale face. 

“It’s alright. We’ll fix it.” Geralt says placing a hand on her arm not cuddled into me. She nodded her head before closing her eyes as a few more tears fall. I look up at Geralt and the look on his face tell me we need to talk. He walks out of the room. 

Tris leaves shortly after. Ciri and I sit together until the trembling stops and the tears have dried. I stay until her breathing has evened out and her eyes have closed. I pull away from her as gently as I can so I don’t wake her. 

I leave Ciri to find Geralt only to overhear another somewhat intimate conversation. 

“You are important to me, Triss. You always will be.” He says. I decide that is a good time to make my entrance because well I have heard enough of that. 

“Care to fill me in on what you plan is big guy?” I ask him walking in and effectively smashing whatever fucking vibe was just in the air.

“You’re going to Cintra.” Vesemir says, rounding the corner behind Geralt. 

“Cintra?” I question.

“You said you’d never go back there.” Vesemir says to Geralt.

“Cintra holds the answers that I need.” He says, looking at me. “Besides, no Witcher has died of old age lying in his bed dictating his will. I have a girl to protect. I can’t just stay here.”

“I have a friend who studies monoliths. I can portal you to him.” Triss offers. 

“Portals are no fun.” Is all Geralt says. 

“Do you think you could excuse us for a moment?” I ask looking at Vesemir and Triss. They both nod before leaving us. “How long will you be gone?” I ask him.

“Not long enough that you will not be annoyed with all my grunting when I come back.” He says with a slight uptick in his smile as he takes a couple of steps closer to me. 

“Under different circumstances I might not mind your grunting so much.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can catch them. I feel my face get hot. I take a look at Geralt to find an amused sort of smirky smile on his face. “I mean I wanted an answer in hours to days.”

Geralt is close enough that I can feel his body heat as he looks down at me. “A few days. Less than a week.” He says softly.

@freegardenbanananeck

[bringthekaos]

I finally got around to reading Convergence and I was honestly rather disappointed with how they characterised Viktor. I know that Convergence is an AU, but still. Comparing it to his characterisation in "House on Emberflit Alley", Convergence Viktor is much more emotional - to the point that all of his major character beats are driven by emotion, he cares less about the lives of people he is supposedly trying to help with his augmentations (even being fine with them being used as cannon fodder). I couldn't see the Viktor written in Convergence helping Naph. I could see Convergence Viktor actually replacing Naph's head with a metal one, instead of shrugging off the wild imaginations of people who fear change. Convergence Viktor is simultaneously less true to who the Machine Herald is meant to be, and truer to the horror stories that Fisher folk tell their kids to make them behave. It's sad seeing him get done like that.

Oh, you’re not alone there. I don’t think any of us were real happy about how dirty they did Viktor in Convergence. Just kinda seemed like they needed a completely morally bankrupt villain, and they molded Viktor to fit the bill. It just kinda… gave us all whiplash. Like, since his LoL release, they’ve retconned him to be less of a villain and more of a tragic victim. At the base of all of his stories, he wants to help the people of Zaun—to help make their lives and their jobs easier, to make living there safer. And while yes, he does go about it wrong sometimes, gets blinders on and gets into a pattern of thinking “my way is the best way, and they will come to see that whether they like it or not.” But generally speaking, Riot has done the work of creating depth in his character. Are there holes, sometimes massive ones? Yes. It’s Riot. But he’s come a long way from the generic mad scientist they released.

And then to go and do this? Completely strip him of his motivations, his goals, and just slap him back into the role of mad scientist. It was like… ten steps backward. (And I’m not saying I didn’t like Convergence. I was honestly happy to have new Viktor content and some of the panels were memeable as FECK.) I was also glad to see the Jayce and Viktor rivalry getting new content as well (although on that front they did Jayce kinda dirty too… like, he spoke several times to Ekko about how he’d “killed” Viktor, and he just… didn’t seem to care all that much. I know comics are a different medium, and you can’t jam pack all the micro expressions into every frame like you can with animation. But still… Jayce talked about killing Viktor like it was just another banal task on a Tuesday. Come on… these two were partners for a long time. I know there’s contention now, and perhaps the care is even gone. But there are people I’ve had falling outs with that I wouldn’t give the time of fucking day to… but I don’t want them to die. I don’t want to kill them as easily as swatting a fly on the wall.)

In the end Convergence was about Ekko coming to grips with the consequences of time travel. They needed something scary, something that Ekko’s family and friends could get involved in without compromising their characters. And they chose body augments. I just feel like this story could have been told just slightly differently, and it wouldn’t have thrown both Viktor and Jayce under the bus. Like… make it Van Klegg who wanted the mind-controlling tech put into all the augments. Maybe even Viktor doesn’t know about it. And of course misunderstandings arise, conflict happens, Viktor is still painted as the villain, but he’s not, he didn’t know, but no one believes that. This route could have at least maintained a semblance of the growth Viktor’s character has made.

IDK. I don’t hate Convergence, I’m just kinda indifferent. It’s an AU, and I’m gunna treat it that way—he’s not the Viktor we know and love. Same with Jayce. So I’ll enjoy it for what it is—amazing art of my favs I can ogle when I’m starved for content between now and S2 of Arcane.

[shes-an-oddbird]

911 Lone Star Tag Game: Beginnings

(1) Which 911 Lone Star season premiere is your favorite?

Probably the season three premiere but I really liked the season two one as well. Tommy being introduced and having to get used to being back in the field. That little bit of hesitation and the discomfort with leaving the twins when she feels like they need her.

I’ve already said this but the season three premiere was just really good. A good balance of the stories, updating us on what happened over the time skip, where everyone is and reconnecting everyone throughout the episode.

(2) Which character do you think had the best introduction or first scene in the show?

I’m going to say Judd had the best introduction over the course of the 1st episode. We learn so much about him so quickly and I think the writers did a great job with it. He loses his entire house in one shot. We learn about his relationship with Grace. They give him this major conflict with Owen right off the bat and you think its going to be drawn out through the entire show but really by the end of the episode they realize they’re just not communicating well because Judd is suffering from PTSD and Owen’s dealing with his own issues but they both want to honor the old 126 and build something new.

(3) What is your favorite moment of 1x01?

My very favorite part is the interviews. They’re so much fun. It is such a quick and easy way to dump a lot of information about the characters in a short span of time and it worked well because they’re interesting characters and it sets up so much potential and if I’m being honest, a little disappointment.

First of all, Paul actually tackled a guy with a gun. I know the takeaway is supposed to be that he was able to pick the guy out in the crowd but he just, no fear, punched a guy with a gun (definitely explains why he and Marjan bonded so quickly).

Marjan doesn’t showcase enough insubordination considering it was half her interview. She says she’s allergic to poor leadership, so the takeaway is obviously that she has some respect for Owen. We do see a lot of reckless Marjan outside of work but as often as Owen acts up, I feel like we should have seen more of this side of her on calls. Also, Marjan just jumping off the pier/bridge to save someone is fantastic. Way to become the coolest character in like less than 10 seconds.

Finally, one thing I will never let go of is the fact that Mateo broke several academy records in field work. Like they brushed that off way too quickly. Even Mateo himself isn’t impressed by this fact because he can’t past the written tests. Assuming those records were in timed skills assessments like the training we see Owen and Paul go through in later episodes, why are we not actually seeing it used in the field? Maybe they could explain it away when he was a probie but he is a full-fledged firefighter now so no excuses.

Anyways the interviews were great. And TK during each interview reading over the resumes and smiling in the background. You just know he’s thinking, “I’m going to befriend you, I’m going to befriend you so much!”

(4) When did you first start watching Lone Star and how did you find out about it?

I think I started watching it somewhat inconsistently when it would come on after OG 911. It was definitely during season 2. I remember getting pulled into a few episodes and I think I finally I sat down and binge watched it in between season two and three. That’s when I got hooked. I really loved OG 911 and didn’t expect to get so much more attached to the lone star characters but I did and they’ve been living rent free in my head ever since.

(5) What is one wish you have for the season 5 premiere?

I know this is very specific but I have a very clear moment in my mind where Paul and Marjan ask TK, Nancy and Mateo who they think would make a better lieutenant and Nancy just refuses to answer because she’s a paramedic and is not qualified to say. TK attempts to get out of answering the same way and while they argue with him that he was a firefighter and could answer, Mateo just bolts and spends the rest of the episode hiding from them because he refuses to choose between them.

(Evenly distributed screentime would also be high on my wish list. I hate when an entire episode goes by and a character or worse, multiple characters only have one or two lines. I know it’s a big cast but please please please I know it can be done.)

thank you for tagging me @lonestar-s5countdown

[benmehlos]

Valedictus

Next Town Over was supposed to take five years. It took thirteen and change, and it is not an exaggeration to say when I started it I was, figuratively and literally, a different person. 

When I wrote Next Town Over I worked part time in a print shop and part time at a small game developer in what was essentially an intern level copywriting role. I was nearing 30; a perfect storm of residual 20s naivete about paying for the future and a third-life crisis about the fact that I was incredibly dissatisfied with where I was at. I didn’t intend to do Next Town Over as a webcomic; I intended it for an independent press because at the time my ideas around the legitimacy of art hinged [incorrectly] on compensation and traditional publication. I drew the first 10ish pages as part of a pitch to shop around to probably five differently small publishers, and had one taker: a brand new small press that wanted to publish it online, own 50% of it, and give me a page rate of $100/page. (A sidebar for context and transparency: these days I work quite a bit with creator-owned small publishers and in the year of our Lord 2024 I’m lucky to command $100/page; NTO less its supplementals would have paid me $41,000+ in page rates before any royalties or sales, and while $41k is a pittance it’s also probably more than I’ve made off the comic in 13 years.) But I was incredibly naive and ridiculously optimistic about its appeal and my ability to find it an audience – and in my partial defense the creative economy was in a drastically different place than it is today – and I decided that if this publisher could make enough in ad revenue, etc., publishing it as a webcomic, I could surely do it myself while retaining full ownership.

Neither of my then-jobs paid very much but at the time I lived with the person I’d marry a year later, whose job was good money and moreover good insurance.  In the shelter of that headspace I asked that then-partner what he thought of me quitting the print job to focus on cranking out Next Town Over, as a webcomic, since we were sufficiently set financially to take the risk and anyway look at all the money creatives are making off Google AdSense (put a pin in that).

He agreed to this; I slapped together a Wordpress-with-Comicpress website and scheduled those first 10 pages to drop weekly. That seemed like a more-than-doable rate at which to buffer a bunch of pages (it was; NTO’s buffer was, for awhile, a now unimaginable 20 pages). This first website did indeed have AdSense advertising (and Project Wonderful ads; remember those?), and it did indeed appear encouragingly lucrative in the early months given its newness. The comic got a few enthusiastic write ups. Kris Straub shouted it out on Chainsawsuit. I became internet friends with a bunch of other creators of similarly-scoped comics (almost none of which ultimately survived). I quit my other job, at the game studio, which didn’t seem to be going anywhere anyway.  (In the glow of this era I like to think fear I helped inspire friends to attempt their own longform comic projects in web form.)

I no longer remember or particularly care how many months into this enterprise Google killed my AdSense account for “invalid click activity”, a ruling I unsuccessfully attempted to appeal about 4 times over the years – a ruling which eventually affected almost every single creator of those similarly-scoped comics. This not only killed most of the revenue on NTO but also locked me out of earning money via Google in perpetuity; I’d go on to have YouTube videos with 750k views I could never monetize, etc.. Project Wonderful earned, but not like AdSense. Patreon was two years away. Next Town Over was now making me basically nothing.  I’d quit my Jobs for Adults because I felt called to make art and it was going about how they warn you it will, and in the absence of any kind of financial validation I was honestly feeling pretty bad about it. Full time comics was supposed to have solved the aimlessness and ennui I’d felt my whole life and it had decisively not. 

In 2011 I had a near-fatal health crisis I’ll decline to get into, but mention because the existential scare forced me to reexamine once again what I was doing, what I wanted to do, what was important to me. The answer to all of these seemed to just be “I don’t know”; I had never had a plan for or even a vision of what my future could look like. But at 30 I felt like doors were closing, and doing something was better than doing nothing. So in rapid succession I asked my partner to marry me, we had a child, and I ran a Kickstarter to collect the first four books of Next Town Over into a print edition.

With a new child it just made sense for me to continue staying home and taking care of him and the house with my ultimately flexible independent artist schedule and relatively terrible earning potential – terrible earning potential that would ultimately compound itself over a decade out of the traditional work force. 

Having a family and focusing on being a stay-at-home parent didn’t fix the ennui, the sense of estrangement from my own life. It made it worse. I assumed because I wasn’t contributing to our household financially in any kind of significant way, an item of increasing friction and resentment in my marriage. I was taking freelance work here and there, but never consistently enough to replace a real job, and of course I kept puttering away at drawing Next Town Over. 

In 2013 Patreon launched, a new paradigm in supporting creators. I was incredibly hopeful I could make enough on this new platform to meaningfully supplement our earnings and, in my thinking, thereby feel validated in what I was doing with my life. At the beginning I shared a lot of sketch and conceptual materials from NTO, a lot of worldbuilding extras and a few process videos. NTO stalwarts were quick to support me on Patreon – many of whom are still supporting me an unthinkable 10 years later, a fact I’m constantly aware of/grateful for – but my monthly support never went gangbusters in the manner promised by the early optimism of the platform (to this day my Patreon is an amount that’s been immensely helpful and allowed me to purchase, among other things, the iPad Pro that transformed my art workflow – I’ll talk about this in a Patron-exclusive, process-focused postmortem that’s yet to come – but I generally make more off a single commission or item of work for hire than I do in a month’s worth of Patreon pledges.)

I continued like this for years, mostly focused on my kid but sidelining comics and occasional work for hire. I thought for awhile maybe independent publishing was my thing, and in addition to a second crowdfunded Next Town Over collection, I curated, edited, and did two stories for a frontier fantasy anthology with some of my friends: Poor Wayfaring Strangers. It funded successfully and my friends’ contributions to it are lovely so I don’t regret making it for an instant, but it proved remarkably sales proof post-Kickstarter. 

From about 2015 onwards I was convinced the great misstep in my life was leaving the little intern level job at the game developer, because my prime hobby and favorite storytelling medium was perennially videogames, not comics, and I really was drawn to making those. I started doing more and more hobbyist game development, mostly with a partner. We did a few game jams, embarked on several too-big projects that were never completed. I became about 70% of a 2D technical artist, and started thinking maybe that was my real calling, the thing I’d neglected all this time. I started thinking when NTO wrapped, and my kid was older, that would be what I’d try to focus on before I was dead. 

In fall of 2018 I started feeling minor numbness in my fingers, which progressed pretty quickly to worse numbness, radiating up my arms and into my neck and head, eventually becoming tingling and then worsening pain. Working in a desk chair became nearly unbearable and NTO started experiencing the first chronic disruptions to its previously clockwork update schedule in almost 8 years of drawing and posting it. We spent thousands on neurologists and rheumatologists, physical therapists and acupuncturists. I had autoimmune disease symptoms including abnormal bloodwork but I was never formally diagnosed with anything. A sports medicine provider told me I had thoracic outlet syndrome and I muddled through the suggested courses of PT but saw very little improvement. My chronic low grade depression worsened tremendously; I felt like shit and moreover I felt crazy without any concrete diagnosis. I didn’t want to move and not moving made it worse. 

I made a bunch of adjustments to how I work, including overhauling my desk geometry and starting to do art more seriously on an iPad Pro (thanks Patrons!), which allowed for more flexibility in work configurations. Over a period of about 2 years the symptoms lessened and I also just got used to a baseline level of low grade neck and back pain; anyone with chronic pain can probably attest that at some point you just sort of acclimate to some background level of it and soldier on but it’s always there like a rock in your shoe, making you irritable, making you exhausted. I’d always felt like that though: irritable, exhausted, an indefinable rock in my shoe. In a way this was nothing new. It was more of the same.  

Heading into the dread 2020 I wasn’t in the best place but I was fairly comfortable, had just started a solo Unity game, was looking forward to Next Town Over’s homestretch so I could focus on my true calling. I resumed working on Patron-only comic Cutter and Ironwood, and started thinking about returning to trying to stream. I was doing more lucrative freelance work. 

But you know what 2020 was like.  

My kid and my spouse came home from school and work. My kid’s schooling was virtual for a year and change. I was banished from the office where my work/dev/streaming setup was as my spouse [needfully] took it over to work from home. Approaching its 10th anniversary, Next Town Over, which I expected to be concluding, was so decisively backburnered the usually 52-updates-a-year comic updated 21 times in 2020. Then 11 times in 2021.  As the comic slid, so did my mood. I had been almost 30 when I quit my day jobs to do NTO. Now I was almost 40. I had an 8 year old. And nothing I’d done in the intervening decade had moved the needle on my creeping discontent. If anything it was worse. 

And after the years of cloistered introspection COVID forced on everyone, at the beginning of 2022 it went critical. 

This could be its own 2500 word memoir, but the cliff notes version is at the start of 2022 I was forced to confront, agonizingly, over the course of a couple traumatic life events, some therapy, and writing the first draft of Every Hole, that The Problem With Me was that I was a trans man. It is now practically a cliché to have understood yourself as trans because of the pandemic, but annoyingly it was the Cinderella slipper that slid with irrefutable ease over the shape of my lifetime of depression and alienation. 

The good news is pretty much the moment I stopped pruning off any new growth to fit in the comfortable, unchallenging container of my previous existence, things started to turn around for me mentally. Over the course of 3 months I wrote the 115,000 word rough draft for Every Hole – a comic (a comic I’ll be eternally grateful to for its role in the Figuring Out) after years of certainty I was done with comics the second I put down Next Town Over. Unbottling my identity simultaneously uncorked my energy reservoirs for making shit – and also my functionally unexplored sexuality, and by July I’d successfully pitched an erotica short to Filthy Figments, to start running that October. Throughout 2022 I transitioned my ass off along with working on Every Hole, on Positive Feedback, on freelance art, and yes: on Next Town Over. It didn’t hit 52 updates that year but it did hit 24, the most I’d managed in years, and alongside over 60 pages of comics work elsewhere.  60 is also roughly how many pounds I lost in the process of becoming Ben; I’m now over 40 but I am also in generally the best shape I’ve been in since my 20s. This has had the knock-on effect of diminishing the still-there neck and back pain to a whisper I can almost always ignore – still more fuel for the accelerating engine of my want to make art again. 

But it did cost me my partner.

In many ways my marriage ran perfectly parallel to Next Town Over. In a tidy bookend to marrying the year after starting NTO – a comic at its core about a dysfunctional marriage – I’m divorcing in the year following finishing it. My marriage was built on a fault line, its dissolution an inevitability, but it has been slow-motion, and largely amicable. 

My future feels precarious in a way I’m not sure it ever has. But I have to admit the precarity is exciting, and unlike the first half of my life where I just sort of drifted on the current and couldn’t picture any kind of future, I can now envision not one but any number of futures for myself. I have been, and am, both Vane, riding off into the wilderness to find and forget, and John, tirelessly chasing his passion at any cost. 

When I started Next Town Over I was an aimless, childless single straight girl who could ride a horse. 13 years later I’m a middle-aged queer man and father with chronic pain and a 12 year marriage in my rearview. (I assume I can still ride a horse, but it’s been awhile.) Next Town Over was the backdrop to such an unbelievable amount of change in my life that when I think about the sum of the change that has inevitably happened in the combined lives of all of you, its readers, in that same span of time, it is nothing short of overwhelming. 

Thanks for reading, thanks for listening, for commenting, for buying the books or supporting the Patreon, for creating fan works, for retweeting updates or talking in the Discord when the Discord was active because we were all locked up hiding together from a global pandemic. Thanks for coming along. 

For many of us this will likely be where we part ways. My gratitude for those of you is undiminished; if you want a final fix of frontier fantasy and you aren’t a Patron, check out Cutter and Ironwood 0; I intended to do more with these characters and I haven’t ruled it out but it’s unlikely to happen any time soon as I am headed elsewhere, at least for awhile. Watch this space (wherever you’re reading this) if you want to know when I crowdfund a print edition of NTO #9-13, which will be the chunkiest NTO book by far.  

If you’d like to stay on, follow or subscribe to my Patreon if you aren’t already; I have just started Every Hole Book 2; Patrons of all levels get Book 1 for free or you can catch up standalone buying it off my itch.  If NTO was a comic about marriage, Every Hole is a comic about rekindling your power in midlife. I hope to not be working on it for 13 years but if I am I guess that’s fine, too. 

I hope you’re looking forward to or already living in one of any number of futures you envisioned for yourself. 

Happy trails.

Ben May 2024

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

I have GAD, clinical depression, and panic disorder. Im also pregnant and my psychiatrist has been telling me since before I was pregnant that he will not let me take Zoloft past 20 weeks “it’s too dangerous for the fetus” well im at 19 weeks, just lowered the dosage for the first time and had my first panic disorder episode in years. My OBGYN has told me she’s completely fine with me taking Zoloft the whole pregnancy and the “fears” this guy has been yelling about are rare and that my health actually needs to come before the fetus’s since my health literally directly affects the fetus. So I put my fucking foot down today and sent him a message not asking, but telling him I will not be stopping Zoloft. I may have to quickly get a new psychiatrist if he decides his campaign against psych medications (which…is a major part of his job but ok) is more important than my mental and yes PHYSICAL well-being (brain fog, eye strain, fatigue and headache today made me unable to do any of my work for my job or even basic functions to care for myself like bathing or brushing my teeth) is less important than the fetus which would not grow at all without me, but I’ve just had enough. It’s going to be a bitch and a half to find a new psychiatrist and start all over again with someone but I can’t take him anymore. I’m in the U.S. btw. I just can’t stand people who stigmatize and demonize mental and emotional illness as somehow optional for treatment because of “ooo scary drugs are bad” mentality even when they WORK IN PSYCHIATRY AND HAVE ACCESS TO THE ACTUAL, PRESENT DAY DATA SHOWING HOW MEDICATIONS WORK. It should be the person’s choice what their treatment is and how they pursue it, medication or not. My womb doesn’t make me a second class citizen either and I’m so tired of that mentality as well. Sorry I just really needed to rant and felt like you’d understand where I was coming from on this. Ugh. Anyway, I am wishing you all the best in your recovery from your recent traumas and continued contentment, peace, and happiness!

I fully support you. In the end it should be up to you whether to go off a medication, pregnant or not. He can make suggestions and have his opinions, but you should have the final say. And if he's not letting you decide, you're in your full right to go see someone else. Especially if there's not even medical consensus that the med might actually harm the fetus.

[deusexmachinawitch]

I gathered all the courage I could to write this post, especially because it deals with my triggers and insecurities. I am really grateful towards the law but at the same time, dealing with the reactions of others can be difficult.

TW: Weight talk.

Before I discovered the law, I was 25 kgs above my healthiest weight. It was a mix of stress, unhealthy eating, health issues and depression. I didn’t mind it until I saw pictures from a work meeting and started feeling insecure, SP also started looking at other girls and I think that was part of why I manifested our separation unconsciously among other things (I refuse to use the term “breakup”, we are just separated).

When I started following the law, I didn’t manifest many physical related things. I just manifested eternal youth, weight loss, less noticeable eye bags and small things like that, besides being pampered with free treatments.

I got the eternal youth part and also lost 11 kgs, I’m losing more and more in a steady way because my mind still falls into the trap of logic sometimes and I affirm to lose in a steady way out of fear of losing my gallbladder or having any health complications when I could just… Manifest fast weight loss without complications. I really need to work on that limiting belief but I know I will be able to do so.

People noticed my change and I got many dating proposals from many people of both genders plus job offers and such. I got ranked favorite several times in my job and got the pretty privilege thing like I mentioned a few posts ago.

The thing is, I have this workmate who can be really insensitive/rude and masks it with “I’m just being honest” but cries when someone is actually honest with her and says they are rude and bullying her. Yes, that type. The thing is that she said she was shocked because I looked so young and good looking, plus thinner looking. Then she started nonstop bashing my old appearance and that opened a lot of past wounds, including the one with SP. Especially because she mentioned that she could understand him feeling disenchanted with me suddenly before but he should regret leaving me now.

She did this all weekend thinking she was praising me to the point people had to stop her by calling her rude and she did her usual number.

Now I’m back home and because I’m used to saving up strong emotions at work because I will never give anyone the honor of having a reaction out of me, I didn’t feel anything about her comments until I was home. I’ve been feeling not hungry since I’ve came back and I’ve refused several meal invitations as well.

I think that once I feel better, I’ll manifest her not coinciding with me or not working alone with her ever again, always having several people around us. I’ll also continue manifesting my own beauty at my pace and everyone loving me the way I am, including SP. After all, I talked about this with @pearlygrace and because I didn’t manifest my physical change to be something that people already got used to, I might have scared my SP by looking so young and beautiful suddenly while he looked so rough. So I have to affirm that he adores the way I am from head to toe, he adores my mind and personality as well and he always loved me in the past and even the new me.

I also have to see the positive, I received my Wonyoung circle lenses and they look amazing on me! 💜

Thanks to all who have actually gave their time to read this, it is something I wanted to open up so people learn that when you manifest a physical change, you do have to revise others as well. If not, you might end up with unwanted comments that may trigger you and hate your old self. While your old self is the old story, it’s a part of you that can help you figure out your current desires. It’s a memory that reminds you of how far you’ve got. Have gratitude towards it and as a reminder that through the law and your power as a God, you finally got a better life and a better you.

[powerofmettatonneo]

Happy Birthday Jason!/An Announcement + Bonus Content

After half a month of no updates on What Measure is a Non-Human, I finally have one! And, since y'all have been dedicated enough to follow my Tumblr, y'all get to be the first ones to know (all one of you currently; hi IYP! Thanks for all the support!).

I've been hard at work writing the story, but not spending as much time editing it as I would like, so I'm currently sitting on two-three chapters. This is because the mental downtime I have at my job gives me a lot of time to think of ideas that I want to immediately write down before I forget them, but the physical time I spend there takes away from the time I can spend editing it. I could hypothetically release them with less editing done on them, but I want to hold myself to a higher standard of what I release into the world and do genuinely enjoy the editing process. However, with that all being said, I have three days off in a row, and I'm going to use this chance to buckle down and try and get them ready for publication by Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, I can't promise anything, but I do have other news that I can make assurances on.

I've decided that Valentine's Day is Jason's birthday. I wanted to give most of the major characters birth months, at least, just for chronological cohesion; I chose this day in particular for Jason because I have personal history with the day that, when combined with the fact that he's the mc of a romance story, made it the perfect day for him. In celebration of his birthday, I have written out a 7k word prequel one-shot all about the confession/first kiss that I will be posting on Valentine's Day, come hell or high water.

I actually wrote a first draft of the first kiss portion all the way back in December, right after the second chapter, and as a bonus for those of you who take the time to find this post, whether now or in the future, I'm going to share it with you. Most of it will be repetitive to the last bit of the finished story, so beware of spoilers I guess (but this is a prequel anyways so like do they even matter), but I have added enough to the final product to make it stand out and above. Really, this is largely just to archive it as I think it's interesting to see how any story evolves over time, much less my own, and I hope y'all feel the same way. See y'all on Valentine's Day, and without further ado, here goes the original first kiss scene (also fair warning, there's still no smut, but it does get more explicit than I've previously allowed it to):

…Hazel reached up and kissed him. Jason entered a state of shock, freezing in place. At first, his mind went completely and totally blank, but that quickly changed into a series of scattered thoughts as his mind tried to reconfigure itself. I'm being kissed. By Hazel. Who is a Pokemon. Oh Arceus, I’m being kissed by a Pokemon—and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever felt. As soon as he returned to coherent thought, however, the kiss ended. Hazel pulled away, and Jason could see that she looked… scared. The look in her eyes was the same that he had when he confessed his feelings to her. It hit him then; the kiss was her idea of a response, and he had just frozen in place like an idiot. He could imagine the doubts and fears rushing through her at his complete lack of a reaction. He also knew exactly how to alleviate them.

Jason narrowed the gap between them and restarted the kiss. He could clearly feel the surprise in his partner and just as clearly feel it melt away as she returned it. Her lips felt velvety against his as they both pushed against each other with all their might. All of the nerves, the adrenaline, the raw energy they were feeling was channeled into the kiss. They fell back onto the bed, Hazel on top, and didn't stop for a second. It felt like they were melting together, becoming one.

Hazel broke from the kiss, and before Jason had a chance to react, she dragged her tongue across his lips. She moved it down, trailing along his chin and neck, resulting in a small moan escaping his mouth. When she arrived at his shirt, she grabbed it with her teeth and began tugging at it.

“S-stop,” Jason gasped, lightly pushing his partner back. Hazel let go of his shirt and stared at him, a look of disappointment in her eyes. It hurt him to see it, but he had read enough ‘romance’ stories to know where this was going.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t do this right now,” he said, trying to let her down gently.

“Umbre,” she whimpered, looking down at her feet. She felt ashamed at herself for pushing so hard so fast and afraid of what her best friend would think of her for it. Or, she did, until the implication of those last two words hit her. She jolted her head back back up and was met with a worried smile on Jason’s face.

“I’m not saying never,” he started, “but I don’t think I’m ready for something like that yet, and I’m pretty sure mom would just straight up kill us if she found out.” Hazel just sighed at that, but even the vague hope of “not never” sent a small shiver up her spine. She laid down on top of him, enjoying his warmth. They sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s touch in the wake of the roller coaster of emotions they had both just experienced, and soon drifted off to sleep, not caring what tomorrow might bring so long as they had each other.

[Also, one final super extra bonus note: my beta only left one comment on this original draft when I showed it to her, and it was too funny not to mention: on the line "Her lips felt velvety against his", she simply wrote "I refuse to consider the mechanics of this", to which I simply responded "coward".]

[jodilinbio]

Part 46

Written in 2011

Much of 2011 was not a good year, and I am determined to make 2012 better.

Tom got laid off again in early March. Once again, we were thrust into the endless cycle of poverty with no apparent way out, like being stuck on an endless merry-go-round.

Shortly after the layoff, I dreamed he wouldn’t return to work until September. It turned out to be another premonition, as I feared. We were on edge for a couple of weeks before he got hired on as a temp at $13 an hour in a warehouse. I began to feel that the hardship we endured at the motel years ago was meant to prepare me for more challenges. The day we were told our unemployment benefits had ended before he found another job was almost more than I could handle. I honestly don’t know if I would have survived it without what we went through in 2007.

Despite the fears and anxieties that kept me up at night, I became angry that anything that might be up there would allow us to endure so much despite trying to live good lives. It was one thing to not have much extra money; it was another to wonder if we could afford food and rent.

I was also furious with our government for its willingness to send billions of tax dollars overseas while refusing to take care of its own citizens. Doctors were dispatched to aid earthquake and tsunami victims in Japan, Haiti, and elsewhere, but we remained uninsured.

Believing our choices were to slowly starve off on the streets or die more comfortably at home, we even planned to seal ourselves in the bedroom and light charcoal to end things with carbon monoxide poisoning. After half a year of job-hunting, we didn’t believe a miracle was coming.

But it was. Unemployment cut us off on September 16th, and less than two weeks later, Tom was working again. This job seems the most promising yet.

Tom describes the work as physical and some of his coworkers as incompetent, which makes things challenging, but he says it’s not the worst job he’s had. At Christmastime, they had a raffle, and he won a Kindle Fire. I’ve been hooked on it ever since, vowing never to read a physical book again. I love how it doesn’t take up space or collect dust, and how it remembers where I left off.

Another highlight of 2011 was getting books published through Amazon and Smashwords. It was exciting at first, but due to not making a lot of money that way, I decided it was pointless to turn a fun hobby into a job and just write for myself. I still share at times on my blog, though. Plus, there was the risk of pirating.

I’m still in touch with my parents and Tammy, though not her kids or my brother, and I don’t want to be. Tolerating Tammy is hard enough. I do it for my parents’ sake and for whatever inheritance they may want to leave us, but I don’t expect much. I’ve been teased enough with the promise of money to not get my hopes up.

My extended family has mostly shunned me, but I don’t care about them any more than they care about me. There are a lot of bad memories there. Still, I have to admit that without them, I don’t know how we would have made it through some tough times.

Tom’s family doesn’t reach out to us, not even with a simple “hello” from time to time. I hope his mother’s final days are miserable, and I don’t feel the least bit guilty for saying so.

I’m still friends with Andy, Adonis, Maliheh, Alison, Kim, Christine, and Mitch, though Maliheh has been distant, blaming it on illness and busyness. Christine is a blogging friend from Ohio, and Adonis is a nice guy in the Netherlands. Irene and Christiane are friends of Nane that I communicate with that times. Christiane lives in Leipzig and Irene lives in Austria. She met Nane when they both lived in New York. Nane worked on Wall Street and Irene was an au pair.

After 15 months, Nane decided to end things. Andy, Alison, and I think she was toying with my feelings unfairly. When things got rough last fall, she initially seemed supportive. But after two months of silence, she told me she thought I was using her for attention, which hurt and angered me.

On top of that, Kim, Aly, myself, and others are still stalked and harassed by Molly. Last summer, her mother even joined in, making all kinds of bogus legal threats.

[brainzappper]

In work, nothing makes me happier than hearing a thank you, or someone apologising for taking up my time and I get to say “it’s what I’m here for!” Or telling people that I’m willing to work on (thing) for as long as they’re willing to wait. I’ll do my best to help, as there’s nothing more fulfilling.

In my job, I do get to help, but it’s also sales. Which, yeah I help people pick out the perfect gift, I get repairs going for them, I clean their belongings and more… but it’s also sales. And sales is kinda slimey, even at the best of times.

I’m incentivised to have people spend the most they can. I don’t like that. I don’t like handling money, and I don’t like possibly coercing people into getting add ons, which, while they mostly are good deals, I don’t like being encouraged to use slimey (but of course legal) methods. Like my manager says not to give prices up front, but the prices with insurance included. To assume they will want to get it until they themselves say no. For reference, this can be an extra charge of just 20 or hundreds depending on the item.

Its also very anxiety inducing, handling expensive merchandise, and customer belongings. As much as I try my best, things happen. The mess ups I’m guilty of haven’t been too bad in the grand scheme of things, but I have been using unhealthy coping mechanisms and had a couple anxiety attacks. You could argue it’s good for me to go through this experience, but it still sucks.

The other day a customer claims to have gotten the wrong quote for some custom work. We always call to ask if the price is okay before going ahead with said work, but he is adamant he was told a lower price. A price 600 bucks lower. I wasn’t at fault, I was just the messenger. The general consensus is that he’s most likely misremembered or misinterpreted because there’s no way we said the price he thought, given all of the checks and balances in place. But still, he was angry and of course blamed us. Idk what I would do if I was responsible for such an error. Just being the messenger, I was terrified.

I need to look out for a job that isn’t like this… I’ve been looking at vet receptionist jobs. Those seem great for a pet lover like me. There’s only a couple near me that are hiring tho so I gotta think of what else I could do because the stress of this job is too much for my anxious body to handle. Which is a shame since I adore my coworkers, and fear that any new job will be a less friendly environment.

[evasivaardilosa]

Entered a new phase on my playing/unlocking stuff in mk11

From now on I will be going back and forth between unlocking endings and letting the ai beat character towers for me

Unlocking endings via klassic towers on easy is the most fun I’ve been having for a while. It is a difficulty I can manage with no pressure and no stress, and it’s truly rewarding to get to watch the endings after I’m done. I’m glad I didn’t watch them online before (though I have seen pics and some spoilers, but it is not ruining my fun so far). Beating Kronika in the character towers was satisfying but those are so long that it was stressing me out

If anyone is reading this and relates to the not being good at gaming part, if there’s anything I can advise you from my experience, it is: don’t be afraid to play on easy. Whatever your reasons are. Try it, and if it makes it more fun, then do it. Always.

The character towers became less stressing now that I am not forcing myself to play them. But they are still so damn long, five stages with multiple towers, and I confess I googled how to go through them faster today. Nothing helpful, but at least I can let the ai take care of them while I do something else

But there is still the matter of requirements. I did the math and I have enough souls and hearts, and I don’t worry about coins, I have a good supply of them. The trouble is the fatal blows, fatalities, brutalities, etc. It seems I can get those letting the ai lose on a very easy endless or survivor tower. There is an konsumable that helps with fatal blows. So it’s only a matter of letting the ai do its job and waiting

It’s the whole damn waiting that sucks, though! I wish I could fast forward the ai fights like in the actual ai battle mode, or mkm. It feels like an eternity

I still have a lot of race against time to do, though. I really really need to get the mk2 outfits for the girls and the movie skins for Shang. I can go without the rest (though, if I am able to, I will try to get as much as I can) but I really need the next few weeks. So that means I have to play some regular towers. I also need to check if the few regular rewards I’m missing will show up. So, the plan is to use those to try and do some requirements, and try to get random rewards (which currently are playing hard to get, but I have to insist a little more). Multi tasking, right?

When I’m done with more character towers, it will get easier to check if there are more inconsistencies with my spreadsheet, since there will be less overall stuff missing to check. So I can adjust my strategy for what is actually missing, while also working on the gauntlet (which for now I am leaving for last on purpose, but that I may pick up earlier if I feel like it). Really considering asking for help with the tutorials

Meteor towers? Not right now, I fear spending too much currency and not having enough for character towers. I will naturally gather more currency with time so if there is a point I feel like I can indulge, I may do so

But right now it’s looking like just a miracle like a kl skin pack on the premium shop will make me get them

I checked the schedule and only one pack in them (Saurian Kung Lao) is one that I would buy with time krystals. I think I have enough for another one too… probably one of the Kronika Army skins. I want to use my time crystals on stuff that I can’t usually find in other ways. Like Noob’s missing mask, I beat countless tower with him and the mask never showed up. If I had a chance, I would definitely buy it!

Why couldn’t they just make it like a shop. For in-game currency and maybe small challenges you, you unlock a skin, and it is exactly the one you want. The rarer may be more expensive. No blind boxes, no random rewards.

There are some skins (and gear) that would pay in every currency (except maybe time krystals) I have to have them

I know game money doesn’t mean a thing to them, I was thinking of this as maybe one last update. "Since the game is not going to play online anymore, here is a new shop to buy the stuff you may not have been able to unlock"

And then we can all, offline, each do the challenges for their favorite kosmetics with no time limit

Or they could have a regular shop together with the premium shop. Premium keeps selling all the premium shop exclusive items, for time krystals. Regular also has a rotation of itens. It includes low rarity skins and gear, konsumables, maybe low level augments? And Regular Shop has prices in coins, souls and hearts. (Don’t be mistaken, skins are hella expensive. )

[nomadphoebe]

“If only there were a plate of fried rice here Pheebs.”

B, my roommate, pinched my left arm while I was listening to M. by Anil Emre Daldal, I’ve been listening to this song for maybe 3 hours straight, completely zoning out in my head. I startled, splashing a few drops of coke on my laptop.

“Whattt?” I said, taken aback.

“I said I just wish there were a plate of fried rice here. I’m really craving it.”

I told her to wait for a minute. I put on my coat and went down the narrow street. The wind was strong, and the rain was heavily fell on my shoulders. The yellow lights at the entrance of the alley made the road seem endless.

I wedged all the rags into the door cracks and hung my clothes in the early hours of dawn for three days straight to avoid the nightly rain. I changed my bed sheets and pillow covers, yet the cold rain at night still instills fear in me. Please don’t get me wrong, I usually love the rain, but these days, I'm afraid it will stir up emotions I'd rather not experience. This room is filled with gaps by the window, much like the crevices in my heart with each passing season.

I'm terrified of hearing her cough every single night. Its echoes pierce the silence of the night like a desperate cry for help. I am worried about her sinus disease, which causes her to struggle to breathe when the seasons change. Her feet are always cold. I don't know what I can do for her, so I gave her my mismatched socks to keep her feet warm. I don't have anything left to offer.

I crouched down as the wind raged, sending my hair into a battle of its own across my face. I kept walking in the cold drizzle without an umbrella, my eyes fixed on the ground as usual.

The owner was surprised when I arrived this late at night, I seemed to be his very last customer today.

“Hi, one veg fried rice, less spicy, take away… I’m sorry, parcel. Please…”

You have to use the word “parcel” to let them know you want to take away your order. Otherwise they won’t understand.

I stood there, my gaze drawn to the flickering lights and his restless movements. I was wearing my friend’s slippers, my right sock had a hole in it, exposing my little toe. My t-shirt had tiny stains of color smeared on it by the kids, and there was also a big round hole in the hem of my t-shirt from my friend's cigarette butts. I haven't bought a new one yet since I have rent to pay, and I want to save up for the kids. I don't want to waste money. But I love plain and dark-colored t-shirts because they are easier to mix and match.

I really want to find a second job to earn more money. That way, I can buy more books for the kids to read, more crayons, more snacks, maybe even get them beds and air conditioners, and by the end of the month, I could possibly pay the increased electricity bill for them. Or maybe if fortune smiles upon me, I might become wealthier and provide them with a secure future. I chuckled at my own thoughts, who am I, after all, I’m just one in a billion.

I remember M, my Russian buddy. He used to work as a waiter in a café in Vientiane while backpacking. That day, it was pouring rain like today. M was helping customers park their cars, wearing a raincoat to shield himself from the wind. Some folks from the same hostel came to celebrate a birthday. They asked M how long he had been working there; he laughed, scratching his head, and said it had only been about two months. They chuckled: “You look suited for the job. You'll get used to it and to other things too."

"Will I get used to this, to that, and to everything?" M nonchalantly asked me.

I remained silent, sipping my coffee as I stared at him. The coffee in Laos wasn't as strong as the coffee in my hometown.

"There were times when I thought I was going to rob a bank because life was so miserable. But I know deep down that I lack the courage. I'm just a dumb college freshmen faraway from home with no one to depend on. I don't want to beg anyone for a single penny. Whatever I earn, I will spend it all, I'll keep some in a metal box in case of an emergency." he mumbled quietly, as if he were afraid someone would overhear our conversation and pass judgment on him.

M eventually quit his job and moved back to his hometown. On the day M left, he gave me a broken bicycle, almost beyond repair. He said the bike still worked fine, just needed a little fixing. Initially, I turned down the offer, knowing that I would have to take the bike to a repair shop and have it fixed. I wanted to avoid any form of human interaction at that moment. He asked me why I would waste time walking when I could ride it, I didn’t want to explain so I just accepted his gift. It was probably the most valuable thing I had at that moment. As valuable as a broken bottle I saved him from during a fight because he was drunk and got himself into trouble, leaving a small mark on my right forehead near the hairline. It reminded me of the way I used to lie on my left side in the hospital bed, staring out the window, thinking about my unfinished books, my career, and the days I had lost.

All of those thoughts quickly faded from my mind as I started my way back. People tell us that we should be optimistic and think positively because positive things will come to us through the universe. It's because they've never known what it's like to live in poverty. It's because they have never had to survive on instant noodles for the last ten days of the month. They have never had to live a bitter life walking in someone else's shoes on their own path.

Back in the day, M’s father single-handedly swept the entire table of food onto the ground when both M and their sister were starving. His mother had been gone for a very long time and never returned.

M flashed a hopeful smile. Praying someone would come back.

That was the last time I saw him. The boy with lemon hair and sky-blue eyes, we used to ride our motorbike from Hanoi to the farthest reaches of northern Vietnam, seeking moments of escape. Those memories are treasures I will forever hold close. He was one of the few individuals who truly get me, creating a bond that remains unbreakable.

———

But I kept walking, one step at a time, until I collapsed under the burden of my thoughts. Raindrops continued to pour onto my eyes in torrents. The icy breeze began to seep through my thin coat. Does this frigid void come from the rainy night, or is it within my little heart?

But I had bought B hot veg fried rice, and it was carefully placed into my coat pocket so that I could protect it from the raindrops. It would warm her stomach, maybe helping her get through this night. Perhaps I can hang in there for a little while longer, since I did something good. M was right, when you lack a sense of purpose, extending kindness and offering assistance can bring meaning to your own life while easing the struggles of others.

The city was cold, with chilly winds coming from every angle. I’ve never thought Hyderabad would get this freezing in a summer night.

There is no hasty fate written for me. No one sells me a cheap, dark-colored plain t-shirt.

So I huddled, clutching the wrapped fried rice tightly within the layers of my coat. Nurturing a thin ray of hope as I returned to that cramped room, the light would be on, she wouldn't cough, the food would still be warm, and the raindrops would be unable to penetrate the rags covering the cracks in the window.

I kept going because I understand that there is no one behind me to have my back...