#sir i am asking once again... rail me

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Wary Sailor Pt. 5 | Matthew Joy x fem!reader

Summary: The Essex sinks and the crew is forced to test their luck. As Matthew's luck begins to run out, he waits for his Siren to save him.

Warnings: Shipwreck, thalassophobia, stranded at sea, abandonment, and drowning. This is a long installment but it is also the last installment of the series! Thank you for bearing with me. I think the end makes it worth it. I've been really busy so I apologize for the quality of this piece. It's sad... sorry.

word count: 3174k

Last Goodbye- Jeff Buckley 🎶

I Know the End- Pheobe Bridgers 🎵

Fear Not This Night- Clamavi De Profundis 🎶

Not proofread, sorry folks!

“Absolutely not, that is OUT of the question!” Captain Pollard slammed his pale fist against the table. “We cannot alter our course just because my second-mate says so.” 

“With all due respect sir, I believe it would be a death-sentence for our crew to chase the storm just to track down a whale that seems to have something against you,” Matthew’s lip curled as he tried to keep his composure. 

“I am the captain of this vessel, not you Joy. I’d like to remind you of that fact.” 

“It is a fair observation, sir. The men are all worried about the true intentions behind this choice,” Owen piped up from the corner of the room. 

“I don’t take orders from either of you, do you understand?” Captain Pollard’s voice was harsh as his tongue crushed against his teeth. He raised an authoritative eyebrow and Matthew swallowed. 

“I have reason to believe that this will only lead to disaster, sir. It is my job to speak on behalf of my experience and the lives of the men under my command-”

“And WHO, Joy, is under my command?” The captain leaned forward and clasped his hands together. The lantern above their heads swayed. 

Matthew met his eyes and clenched his jaw. Y/N’s warning swirled around in his memory like a tidal pool. How could he balance respect with advocacy? He had to talk some sense into the Captain before it was too late. 

“Answer my question, second-mate.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. 

Matthew unfocused his eyes on the man and swallowed down everything that he would have liked to say. 

“We are, sir.” 

“That is exactly right, Joy, and as captain I command you and the rest of my men to chase the storm. It will dissipate soon and in that time, we will have the whale.”

The lantern sailed across the room, smashing against the wall of the ship. The wick’s fire lay exposed and set some of the floor on fire. Before Matthew could throw anything on the fire to quell it, the ship jerked once again. The men scrambled to stay upright, their eyes met each others’ in the dark. 

“What the hell was that?” Captain Pollard asked breathlessly, fear showing in his tone. 

“That wasn’t a wave,” Owen whispered. 

“No, it wasn’t,” Matthew didn’t have to say the word whale. They all knew. 

…

Matthew grabbed his coat on the way up to the deck. Men ran around him, shouting orders and carrying rope. The harpooners prepared their weapons and watched from the railing. The shiny white back of the whale slipped below the surface a few yards out, its tail flicked up into the air and slammed down on the side of the boat. Matthew was knocked off of his feet and rolled, cringing from his sore back. Part of the sail and railing fell into the ocean below, men scrambled to stay onboard and not be dragged down with the debris. He watched helplessly as the boat started to break apart beneath his feet. 

“Everyone get to the boats! Grab as many supplies as you can in case we need to abandon ship!” Matthew yelled. Owen reached his friend and grabbed onto Matthew’s collar. 

“We need to get off this ship, Joy. If we stay here much longer we will have to go down with her.”

“Take your men and I’ll take mine.” 

“We need to wait for Pollard’s orders.”

“Fuck his orders, come on.” 

Matthew ran to the railing and helped loosen the ropes holding the smaller whaling boats to the deck. Men dropped food and drinking water into the bottom of the boat as the ship groaned and splintered beneath their feet. 

There was a deafening explosion at the stern of the Essex, a plume of fire rose into the air. The men were silenced by the violence and panted, watching the fire catch quickly and begin to burn. 

“She hit the oil canisters! Abandon ship! Abandon ship!” Pollard tripped across the debris-ridden deck of the sinking ship. 

Pollard, Owen, and Matthew each manned a boat and organized the men into the whaling boats before they were lowered into the water. The ship burned quickly. The explosion had killed many of the sailors who had been standing on the deck. They were already a dwindled crew by the time they pushed off from the ship and rowed to a safe distance away. Matthew watched with watery eyes as the Essex sank in a fiery blaze. 

…

They’d been on the boats for hours and the late afternoon sun was baking them alive. They’d connected their boats together in an effort to share supplies and keep an eye on each other. Matthew tried to push his fury and genuine shock down so that his men couldn’t see it. The whole event had only lasted an hour, ridiculously short. Everything that they’d owned went down with the whaling ship, friends too. 

Matthew wiped sweat from his brow and tried not to glower at Owen and Pollard who spoke to each other out of his earshot. He looked down at his hands which were starting to turn red in the direct sunlight. The men in his boat were slouched against one another or lying at the very bottom between the slats. He caught himself thinking about that night he’d taken the Siren for the first time. Memories of fleeting risk seemed like child’s play in comparison to life-and-death decisions the sinking had prompted from everyone. 

He looked out at the infinite expanse of water and tried to call her to his mind, they’d done as much before when he was drowning. Surely she could see him now, surely she would do something to help them. She knew something like this would happen, she’d warned him about it. He hadn’t even had time to try to avoid the disaster, it all seemed so unfair…

The boat beside him splashed up and down abruptly. Matthew caught his breath and watched as the bottom of the boat slapped the surface of the water as it returned to its first position. Everyone froze. 

“It’s back,” Matthew whispered and as he did, the water beside him burst up into a fountain of waves. A great big eye and white blubber body surged up into the sky above him and tumbled inches away from the boats. 

“Disconnect the fucking boats!” Matthew ordered and cut the ropes holding the boats together. Being connected made them a larger target and a weaker link. Every sailor pushed away and soon the four boats were separated by yards of messy waves. 

The whale emerged again, this time boring into Matthew’s boat. Matthew fell back as the boat broke down the middle and men went flying. He fell into the water and pushed away from the boat so he wouldn’t get caught. Air bubbles escaped from his mouth as he opened his eyes underwater. He could see the whale swimming through the wreck, knocking men out of its path or pushing them deeper. Matthew swam to the surface and whipped his head around to clear the hair from his face. The men in the other boats were aiming their harpoons at the vulnerable side of the beast. Matthew grabbed a hold of a barrel of water to keep himself afloat. Some of his men began to resurface but most did not. Those that did each found a piece of floating debris and watched as the other men tried to kill the whale. 

Matthew’s heart was beating a mile a minute and he couldn’t catch his breath. He watched as the back of the whale’s fin rose high into the sky above them, blocking the sun, and then down it went onto one of the other boats, breaking a second one. The wave created by the tail scattered the men even farther apart and sent Matthew spiraling out of control. His head slammed against the side of Owen’s boat and knocked him unconscious. 

“Kill it! Kill it!” Captain Pollard nearly screeched, blood dripping from a cut on his lip. 

…

Matthew came-to on Owen’s boat, nestled between people’s legs. 

“Joy?” Owen’s voice pulled him from his dreamless sleep. Matthew blinked behind his eyelids and tried to speak but his throat was dry. He licked his cracked lips. 

“Howw… how bad is it?” Matthew groaned and went to touch the back of his head. 

Owen swallowed and looked back at the men in the boat. 

“It’s really not that bad, Joy. It’s just a little bleeding and some bruising. You’ll be fine.” 

Matthew didn’t feel fine. Things didn’t seem right. For instance, the men around him looked more scruffy than they had the day before. They looked older and sickly. He furrowed his brow and looked around the boat.

“You were out for a few days. I mean you woke up multiple times but you weren’t actually aware.” Owen admitted. 

“Days?” Matthew repeated softly and Owen nodded. Matthew tried to sit up but his head began to pound painfully. He raised his hands in front of his face to block the aggressive glare of the sun. 

“Try not to move, you need to recover.” Owen straightened the blanket over his friend. 

“The sun…” Matthew groaned and his voice broke. His mouth was horribly dry and tasted like dried blood. 

“I know but the sun will set soon. Just close your eyes.” Owen tried to block the sun with his shoulders and the shade was a welcome relief for Matthew. He began to fall asleep again, rapidly losing his ability to stay awake and aware. 

“Owen…” he whispered, “did she come back… for me?” 

Owen’s face began to blur as Matthew fell asleep. He didn’t stay awake long enough to hear his response. 

…

When Matthew woke up again he was being half-dragged and half-carried through the water. He flailed about between the arms of his savior. 

“Joy! Stop that.” Owen’s voice reprimanded him. Matthew looked up. Instead of his friend, he saw a scraggly man with an unkempt beard and foul smelling clothes. 

“Owen?” Matthew garbled and Owen chuckled weakly. 

“Do I really look that bad? Well I hate to break it to you but you don’t look so good yourself.” 

“Don’t beat me while I’m down, Owen.” Matthew tried to laugh but started to cough. He was too weak to cough and grimaced instead.

“Where are we?” Matthew asked as Owen rearranged him in his arms. 

“We spotted land this morning.”

“Are we home?”

“No, we found an island. It’s not much but it’s land.” Owen stepped onto the solid beach and lowered Matthew to the ground against a tree. 

“Stay here, I’m going to help the others look for shelter and food.” Owen patted Matthew on his hollow chest. Matthew smirked and nodded. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Matthew laughed softly. 

“You still have your sense of humor, good.” Owen limped away with a small group of similarly starved men. Matthew could only imagine what he looked like. He raised his hands to feel his hair and then his face. He had a long beard and sun blisters buried deep in his face. His hands shook as he moved them to his lap.

His eyes rested on the shore where the bright blue water swept out upon the beach. He could feel himself whispering her name beneath his breath like a prayer. Had she protected them this entire time? Had she ensured that they would find land? 

Where was she now? Matthew closed his eyes and knew he’d be crying if wasn’t so dehydrated. 

“Water… I need water…” Matthew tried to call out. One of the sailors sprawled out on the sand, sat up and patted his pockets for a canteen.

“Here, sir.” The sailor offered Matthew his half-empty canteen and unscrewed the cap for him. Matthew took the bottle with shaking hands and raised the bottle to his lips. He took a few small sips and sighed. Even though he wanted to drink the whole bottle, he forced himself to return the container to the young man with blisters across his face. 

“Thank you,” Matthew nodded and leaned his bloody head back against the tree. “How long has it been since the Essex sank?”  

The young boy raised his head in surprise and furrowed his brow. 

“About two weeks, sir.” 

“Did… did a woman or… a siren find us before we got here?” Matthew struggled to ask. The boy darted his eyes away in discomfort before answering. 

“Um no, sir.” 

Matthew closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t have the energy to explain to the boy what he meant. In his head he could see the girl again. Her beautiful green eyes glowed in the darkness of his mind and his hands could feel her soft body. 

“Y/N…” he whispered and fell asleep. 

…

“So you’re leaving?” Matthew clarified and Owen nodded. 

“A group of us are going to try to find the mainland.”

“I want to stay. I wouldn't make the trip and we both know that. The men who want to stay can stay with me.” Matthew looked up at the ceiling of the cave they had found away from the beach. They had been on the island for a week now and were running out of food. 

“I’ll tell the men. If we make it back to land… we’ll come back and get you. We’ll come back for you, understand?” 

Matthew nodded and gestured to the men chatting outside in the dark, a fire burning between them. Owen left the cave but his voice carried back to Matthew as he informed the men of their proposed plan. Questions arose from the sailors and Matthew tried to keep himself from sobbing as he accepted the truth:

The Siren had not been back. She had not come when he needed her and he realized then that she never would. She had warned him since the beginning not to trust her but he had. Tears slipped down his face and triggered a headache. His head was bandaged with clean make-shift bandages but the wound still hurt. He cradled his face in his hands and rested his palms against his legs. 

I hate you, Matthew thought. I loved you and you betrayed me. 

…

They left the following day and Matthew was left alone with four other men. They sat in the cave all together and withered away in silence. 

…

A few nights later, Matthew awoke with a start and gasped silently. It had been over a month since the Essex went down. The cave was dark and the sounds of the men sleeping surrounded him. He looked around as best as he could and whimpered softly into the darkness. 

Fear not this night, you will not go astray

Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way

Awaken from a quiet sleep

Hear the whispering of the wind

Awaken as silence grows 

In the solitude of the night

The song reached his ears from far beyond the mouth of the cave, stilling him. He stopped whimpering and fell quiet to hear the haunting music. The woman’s voice was alone, unaccompanied by other voices or music. She sounded like a child singing as she finished a chore. It was a pure and comforting sound that drew Matthew to his knees. He pulled himself up to his feet and grasped the moist walls as he stumbled out. 

The island air was warm and dry around him as his feet reached the sand. He could hear the waves crashing against the beach but the sounds of animals were abnormally absent. He walked further out into the dark, hugging his jacket around his dying body. 

Darkness spreads through all the land and your weary eyes open silently

Sunsets have forsaken all the most far off horizons

Fear not this night, you will not go astray. 

Dawn’s just a heartbeat away. 

And there in the distance, the horizon was starting to lighten as the sun would rise in the following hours. In the meantime, the beach was still dark. Matthew felt his feet carry him to the shoreline where the sand pulled against his ankles. He looked out at the water and forgot why he was there at all. Was he dreaming?

Distant sounds of melodies calling through the night to your heart

He took a few more steps where the water reached his calves. Two hands reached out and touched his scarred face and he flinched away. The hands returned and held his hollow cheeks gently. 

“Matthew,” the voice whispered sweetly but he couldn’t see who was speaking. 

“Who are you?” Matthew whimpered and tried to pull away from the strange hands which were not his own. “Are you an angel of heaven?” 

“Has it really been that long that you’ve forgotten my touch?” 

“I’ve forgotten my own. Who are you?” He asked again, his eyebrows furrowed with suspicion. 

“It’s me, sailor. Your Siren.” Y/N rubbed her thumbs over Matthew’s bulging cheekbones, tears ran down his face without his knowledge. Matthew closed his eyes and shook his head weakly. 

“No, no. She left me weeks ago. I’m dying.” He took a step back but the current caught his heels. 

“Look at me, Matthew. It’s me. I’ve come to take you home.”

Matthew opened his eyes slowly and his lips fell apart. His eyes adjusted in the dark, finally revealing a woman’s familiar face framed in dark hair. She was naked so she appeared to be a star glowing in the dark. 

“It’s not possible. Why would you come back now?” Matthew whispered, his voice breaking. More tears filled his eyes and he tried to control the sobs that threatened him. 

“I never left you, Matthew, but I didn’t know what I could do. I can’t change fate.”

“So this was my fate?” Matthew laughed darkly. He reached out to pet her hair and sniffed. 

“Yes, I couldn’t intervene.”

“I thought you had abandoned me,” Matthew sobbed and curled her hair in his fingers. 

“I’m so sorry, Matthew…”

“But why are you here now?” Matthew trailed his fingers up and down her neck absentmindedly. 

“Like I said, I’ve come to take you home.”

“You were singing…” Matthew noted and stepped closer. The girl cupped his face again and looked up into his bloodshot eyes. 

“I’m singing for you, sailor.” 

She kissed his cheek and reached for his hands. Going slowly, she walked backwards into the sea, singing. Matthew followed her blindly, his mind captured by her ballad and the magical glow in her eyes. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to smile through her song. 

Though the shadows fall, still the stars find their way

Life your voice with the first light of dawn 

Dawn’s just a heartbeat away

Hope’s just a sunrise away

Matthew’s head dipped below the surface and the water consumed him. The song continued in his head as Y/N carried him to his death, ending his suffering and burying the dead.

[st6rly]

WRIO THOUGHTS??? YES SIR 🫡🫡

Okay it’s kinda cliche, but imagine being a famous criminal and having him be the one who always captures/arrests you. The banter and annoying him to no end augshsjs it’s so

And then after a while, he stops reporting you and you two just end up getting closer like that (with occasional meet ups in the prison) (you just missed him a little)

- tired

wriothesley x gn!reader warnings: reader pulls a clarity meme (iyk you know: aka falls off a bridge), can be seen as mildly suggestive but that’s not he intention, ALSO NOT PROOFREAD BC BRAINROT MODE notes: YES IM SAT. I AM SITTING. I AM STARING AND SIPPING ON THIS ASK LIKE FINE WINE. i see you tired 👁️ if i’m stuck here i shall drag you down this rabbit hole with me 🤗🤭

“why must you insist on being so difficult?”

“what’s a game of cat and mouse without a chase?” wriothesley sighed, an annoyed grimace to his face as he watched you twirl a pair of broken handcuffs around your finger; it’s the third pair of his you’ve broken this week.

“i’ve caught you how many times this past month, no scratch that, past week, alone and yet you still refuse to cut your loses,” he said through gritted teeth.

you laughed and tossed the cuffs in the air, catching them with ease before slipping them into your pocket. at this point, you had enough of these to start up a business. maybe one day you’d sneak into the prison and drop them off in a nice gift wrapped box as a little surprise for your dear friend.

“oh, don’t be that way wrio,” you cooed sweetly and walked up closer to him, “i’m just having a little fun.” you placed a hand lightly on the collar of his vest, nonchalantly finding interest in smoothening out nonexistent wrinkles. he stared at the way your hand trailed down the buttons before hooking under his chin and tilting his head to face you.

“don’t call me that,” he replied, voice lacking the usual firmness of authority.

“it’s a shame i’ve been so sloppy lately,” you hummed, lips curled into a grin, “but what can i say? i missed seeing you.” as soon as those words left your mouth, you’d backed away just as fast. you sprung up to the ledge of the bridge, balanced like an acrobat.

“as much as this has been lovely, i really must be going,” you said with a fake pout. “i’ll see you soon, yeah? can’t be without my favourite duke for too long now.”

“wait-“ you sprung off the edge as he rushed towards you, left with your laughter as a reminder of missing once again.

“shit,” he rumbled, hitting his fist against the railing. running his hand through his hair, he reached for the key ring in his back pocket, only to come up blank. instead, he pulled out a note.

prison entrance to the south when the moon is bright. maybe then you’ll get what you’re looking for ;P

“you little-“

[reorientation]

okay nothing in this world has ever made me flood with need the way seeing my asks linked and tagged as 'respect anon' did. little update - ive been getting railed so often (11 times total now since mid november) that i have a bruised cervix. it hurts in such a delicious way, makes me hyperaware of what i am, almost feels reminiscent of cramps.

my original hookup ive now seen six times, and he wants to see me once a week minimum. the way he murmurs "good girl" so encouragingly to me, his strength, and the insanely erotic feeling of him breeding me, have all bewitched me. the texture of semen exploding into a wet cunt is so unique and im obsessed, its a different consistency from my own wetness, so i can always feel the exact moment hes fucking his sperm into my fertile body, even when i dont feel him throbbing through it (which i usually can).

other than him, ive fucked four other guys in the last month. each and every one of them came in me bare. i hoped a few times would sate me but if anything its fanning the flames. on my neediest day i had three guys come over one after another to fill me, the first was my original guy, and the other two were completely random, and they all treated me so perfectly honestly.

the third one in particular fulfilled my need to have a real man coax me into admitting my real name, he fucked me hard and fast and used his filthy tongue to slip into my subconscious mind and loosen my inhibitions until he got it out of me. then he used it over and over again while he fucked a baby into me, slapped my well-bred pussy till i begged him to stop, then held me so tightly. i felt so dazed and safe and feminine in his arms.

it feels so good to have a man respect me enough to give me what i really need, especially when im being brave enough to ask for something i was so afraid to even acknowledge about myself. and it especially feels good when he looks right into my eyes while pounding me and reminding me of the truth.

fuck sorry for multiple asks i literally just cannot stop thinking about being dubbed 'respect anon' its driving me crazy. i can feel my pulse everywhere, but it seems to pool in the places that make me a woman: my clit, my pussy lips, my aching dripping vagina, and my breasts. i can feel my pulse in my fucking nipples. and also usually my temples but thats off theme.

i cant get over how good it feels to be fucked. i never in a million years expected how endlessly perfect it would be, ive found partners that emanate joy together with me and its so much fun and so erotic. the original guy in particular, just takes so much joy in fixing me and in enjoying my cunt, i often end up watching the filthy reactions on his face as he watches my pussy clench around him. he watches us join together as one, my cunt singing with pleasure, i always ask him if theres anything else i can do for him and he almost always says "lay back and take it." like, yes sir!

once i was riding him and his hands were clenching my hips tight, i love riding because it makes my breasts bounce and heave so deliciously. he was staring at them, i was moaning like a bitch in heat feeling him stretch me out in an angle we dont normally do, and suddenly he looked me in the eye and said "you have a womans body." swear if id been on my back i would have orgasmed right then and there. he sometimes goes back and forth in what gendered terms he uses and it keeps my mind spinning with confusion and desperation. we are both bi and im pretty sure our current dynamic is heaven for us both.

there are so many filthy details i want to share with you. feels like i could babble all day about the things that have happened, but it all boils down to this: im a woman, obsessed with taking cock, finally letting herself enjoy some wonderful company, and it wont be long until im the sluttiest pregnant girl grindr has ever seen, hahahah.

respect anon back with one last thought because ive been obsessively rereading your two responses to me so far. when i begged him to refeminize me, "it doesn't even sound like he was surprised." nope! in fact he laughed at me, he laughed and said "fuuck yes." in that moment, i knew that he had already known, and was waiting to see if id admit it. with him, i have this manic energy where i come off completely insane over text, and his steady energy only serves to wind me up more. i think he knew id cave and beg to be detransitioned, my pics are all pretty high femme and lets just say im not ever subtle about my femininity.

the weird thing is, i only have that manic energy with him. i dont know if its because hes genuinely the hottest guy ive ever met, or because he took my virginity, or because he succeeded in breaking my mind. but the other guys ive slept with, while they blow my mind and show me what im for, i dont make such a fool of myself to them.

genuinely with him i have lost all semblance of self-respect and it proves right everything he has ever whispered into my ear.

(Previously)

All that fun you've been having, going from being a virgin to getting inseminated by five different men within a couple months - and nothing ever made you flood like my tagging system? I'm very flattered, Anon! A bit bemused, but flattered.

So much to speak to here, but one part I truly love is that your new life as a woman started with the first man to use your pussy laughing at you. Like your whole identity as a man had been one long joke you were telling, and you'd finally gotten to the punchline.

That's what real respect looks like for you, isn't it, Anon? A man who'll wait for you to finish telling the joke before he laughs.

And the man who made you tell him your real name while he fucked you full of cum... There's a pleasing symmetry to that. He got something out of you and put something into you. He learned what they called you when you were born, and maybe gave you a baby to call your own.

Which is what you're made for, after all. Your body never stops reminding you of that, whether it's with the pain of a bruised cervix or your blood pulsing in your swollen nipples or the unstoppable pleasure of taking a man's cum in your womb. It's little wonder that you've come so far since getting fucked for the first time, little lady: your body was just waiting for the chance to start.

[datastate]

thank you scalpho for tagging me in wip wednesday!! apologies it took so long, but i appreciate it very much 🫶 i also have no idea how to do these bwehaha

here is a sneak preview of the "deliver us from evil" prologue!

The sunrise is beautiful. Somber darkness bleeds through to reveal a mellow orange in the skies above. The frosted mountains peer down upon the sleeping city nestled in its valley. Its presence blends this newfound light with a gentle blue hue, finally bringing life to these muted layers of snow. How peaceful it seems. Each role is fulfilled with such grace, nearly untouched by human turmoil. The morning wind bites. Its teeth fiercely graze Kai’s cheeks. Every inhale aggravates his scarred throat, still sorely scraping against his lungs after sprinting to the Chidouin residence. Tending to the family within had allowed him a brief reprieve, but standing in the crisp air again lights the tender wicks aflame. Once the door behind him opens, a familiar stride hits the wooden patio and echoes through the hollow floor beneath—for as deliberate as it appears, Kai notes a slight weight upon the right leg. A hand suddenly meets his shoulder, and only then does he glance beside himself. Master Chidouin settles at his left side, finally resting his briefcase before the stairs. With his hand free, Hikari pulls out a cigarette pack and takes one for himself, offering another for his assistant. Shaking his head, Kai instead asks: “Is Atsuko ready?” “Just about,” and the words scarcely leave his lips when he ignites the lighter. “She’ll be alright,” Kai promises, tentatively raising his hand to rest upon his elder’s—firmly clasped upon his shoulder, as though he fears to lose his support. Ever slightly, Kai inclines his head Hikari’s direction. “In a half hour alone, she has regained her strength.” Hikari exhales, letting the smoke trail off in a bitter whisper. The acrid taste stings Kai’s tongue, though he quickly suppresses the rising cough. It disperses into the cold dawn, its source clear as the day to come: this is the second seizure Atsuko has had within four days, meaning they cannot hold off on their intended appointment with Asunaro any longer. It is only natural for Hikari to rely on this habit more than before, even if it betrays the unspoken worry eating away at him. The sight is a painful one, knowing aloud the most he’ll ever allow is: “I know.” Though the phrase exists as an effort to reassure, those few words plant an inexorable dread in Kai’s chest. Even so, when Hikari lets go of his hand to bring him into a half-hug, Kai finds it difficult to cling to anything but the warmth of his embrace. “Asunaro’s got it handled.” As if an ember has broken from his hearth, it burns upon Kai’s chest with abrupt guilt. His fists curl around the railing.

i am evidently extremely normal about their interactions few and far between. one of the only chapters that hikari is still alive...

in any case! i'm tagging (no pressure) @its-captain-sir , @dyke-mecha , @corvidcrowned , @starrycluster , @logicroute , @room-of-lies , @strawberryjamsara , @riggedbones , @azurehaiku , @aforgottenballad , and @aueua if you'd like to! along with anyone else who wants to do this <3 (it'd probably be best to make your own post though, so this doesn't get too long :D)

[marksbear]

Hello mr.bear, pardon my intrusion

I've been thinking about what to request from you, and I finally though about something. Are threesome fine with you mr.bear?

If you don't mind, will you write the boys smut about male reader railing deep on reader bed, and reader surprised deep with inviting ben on their fun. Reader tell ben to fuck deep and then proceed to double deep hole. After done with deep, ben ask for his payment by presenting his prep hole to male reader.

#I hope you don't mind me calling you mr.bear 🐾, thank you for making all the story mr.bear

Hello fine sir! I AM HAPPY to write this request! And I don't mind being called Mr.bear its quite cute actually Mr anon.

WARNINGS- HEAVILY DETAILED SMUT, SWEARING, Overstimulating,threesome, floor sex,wall sex, chocking. Cigarette after sex

THE DEEP, SOLDIER BOY X MALE READER.

The deep and Y/n had been at it for hours. In numerous different positions some that are unthinkable. The reason why is simple. The two of you just had the best mission of yall's career and already got rewarded for it. But deep had come to you for a more personal award.

The deep took you to his house and once you'd walk in he was already over you. Kissing and running his hands all over your hero costume guiding you into his bedroom.

All of that leads into what y'all are doing now. Your hand on his neck with a deadly grip and your other hand holding the right leg still over your shoulder. Drilling your cock in his hole going balls deep to the point that's a bulge in the deep stomach. As for Kevin hes a moaning ,crying mess. Screaming words and sentences that don't even sound human. "Ohh-mfuck! Y/nn imma imma going to cum again." Kevin screams out. He came a total of four now and about to shoot his fiifth load of the night. Deeps moans out a painful scream as he reaches his peak cumming on to the sheets again. His ass becomes numb and his legs are weak.

Y/n fucks the deep not caring that the deep came again just hunting his own orgasm not caring about the pain man under him is feeling. Y/n slows down his thrust but still hard enough that it reaches the deep stomach. "Fucking take it deep. Take all of my fucking cum like the toy you are." Y/n cums deep into the deep and goes back into fucking faster riding out his orgasm. The deep whines and begs Y/n to slow down and have mercy on him. But y/n ignores him and goes back into another round.

Y/n seems to be in a trance only focusing on himself and the deep for any signs of their safe action. The action is a hand signal it's the three finger sign and it tells the other to do something else to them cause maybe they don't wanna do that but they can still do other activities. The fifth one is to stop automatically and take care of the other and just cuddle or watch a movie. One is that they're alright with this and wanna go further.

The deep signals Y/n a one and Y/n flips the deep into doggy style fucking him in a slow and gentle pace so the deep can beg.

"Hey sissy's! Im here." The voice alerts Y/n and stops fucking the deep to turn around and see whos here. "Ben? Why are you here old man." Y/n pulls out of the deep turning around covering his cock. The deep whines at the loss of pleasure. And starts to grind onto the bed. Eagerly trying to cum. "Your boy toy invited me." Y/n gives him a really look and turns around to Kevin and asks him if it's true. The deep moans out a yes trying to get back into fucking wiggling his ass in the air. "Well if thats the case take your clothes off and get fuckin ready." Y/n says to ben and walks back over to the deep and sitting back on the bed. Once ben does what he told he goes back to y/n kissing him deeply. The two make out for a while until the deep whines and says that yall is supposed to be fucking him. Y/n lets out a laugh and turns back around facing Kevin. "Ben fuck him. I'll watch for a bit then join in." Ben doesn't need to be told twice already sliding his cock in the deep. The deep claws onto Ben's back moaning and crying out lewd words. Once Y/n had enough watching he sits besides ben telling him to stop moving for a sec. Y/n slamming his cock in the deep without warning. "OHHH FUCK!" The deep shouts and his body including his gills shaking. "Number Kev" Y/n asks. The deeps uses all of his strength showing a number one. "Okay lets fuck the shit out him old man!" Y/n turn his head and smile at Ben whos already slowing fucking him. Y/n thrust is fast and thinking about himself and Kevin's pleasure and Ben's are slow and rough only focusing on his own pleasure. It had been an hour of deep taking the two cocks and came like six more times. The deep can barely keep his eyes open and his body gave up trying to hold himself up. Y/n and Ben agreed on cumming together. And once they finally did the deep was in heaven. Crying out in pain and pleasure of finally feeling more full than he was already. The two pull out and watch the deep body flops onto the bed tired and on the verge of passing out.

"Now where's my pay?" Ben asked while laying down with his legs open and hole in display. Y/n climbs in between his legs kissing and sucking Ben's neck while sliding his cock in his friends hole. "M-fuck Ben so t-tight and wet." Y/n says resting his head on Ben's own rubbing their noses together like some animal. "Cmon h/n fuck me." Without hesitating Y/n fucks ben in a fast rough place and manhandling him a bit more than what he usually does with deep. The two throwing insults at one another and beating on the other. Just for it can lead to a make-out. Y/n hooks his arms under Ben's leg picking him up with ease and fucking him into a wall. They stay in that position for a while until Ben becomes difficult and makes him and Y/n fall to the ground. Ben quickly gets a top of y/n riding his cock bouncing up and down at a animistic pace. Y/n grips onto Ben's hips and thrust his hips to meet Ben halfway every time. Y/n and Ben cum at the same time with Ben cumming all over y/n body and makes a mess on him. Y/n cums into Ben's ass deep enough if he was a female he'll get pregnant. Ben's body collapsed against Y/n riding out his orgasm breathing heavy. Y/n picks him up and carries him and places Ben next to the sleeping Kevin and tells him to go asleep.

Y/n looks for some clean underwear and slides it on and takes a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and walks outside to the balcony and lights his cigarette looking at the stars.                                               THE END

Now bears that were the craziest and sexiest thing I ever wrote. I love you all and hope you liked this. Stay safe bears

-love Mr bear

[wreywrites]

Opus

Jedi June Week 3

Prompt: Art/Music

A/N: I very much love Dooku and will probably continue to be a Dooku apologist for the rest of my days. Like, yeah, he fell to the Dark Side and committed war crimes and that's not really forgivable, but I definitely understand his frustrations. Warnings: None AO3

“Am I dressed up enough for this?” Kylen asked quietly as she leaned toward him. She was nearly as tall as he was, and for a reason Dooku was as yet unwilling to admit, that made him feel rather sad.

“No,” he murmured back, offering his arm. As she took it, he subtly turned her to face a pair of Pantorans several steps ahead and to their right. “But neither are they, and frankly, that doorman’s jacket is in appallingly bad taste—”

“Are you just trying to make me feel better?”

“No. You are certainly not terribly underdressed, and you are as well-dressed as many of these people, and we will be in a box anyway.”

Kylen shot him a mischievous grin. It was the same one she had ten years ago, when Dooku first brought her to the Temple, and the fact that it had not changed a bit in all these years made him feel rather less sad. “So you’re saying that a lot of people are underdressed—including me—but it’s okay that I’m underdressed because I’ll be hidden away in your private box?”

“Always you put words in my mouth.”

“Not always. Tonight though, yeah.”

They were at the door. The Rhodian taking tickets recognized Dooku at first glance, gave him a quick bow, and gestured him through the door. Dooku nodded in return, guiding Kylen along beside him.

“Why are we here again? I can listen to concerts on the holonet.”

“Because trips to the zoo are well and good, but there is more culture to be learned than the mating habits of rontos.”

Kylen laughed. “I’ve never once learned about the mating habits of rontos at the zoo—No, wait, that was how I got the talk—”

“Kylen, please, this is high society—”

“That’s why I said the talk and not—”

Because the Force was kind to him, they reached the entrance to the wing of private boxes at that moment and the doorman bowed as he asked, “I assume this is your guest, sir?”

“Indeed,” Dooku said. “Pemmi Kalanh, my great niece.”

The doorman’s face registered surprise briefly, then he nodded. “Of—of course, sir.”

As they walked through the door, Kylen leaned close to him again and muttered, “You know I’m wanted in all of Black Sun space under that name, right? If that guy knows anyone—”

“You may defend yourself against all attacks this evening, but I doubt there will be any.” He scrutinized her. “I did not realize Miss Kalanh was wanted by such powerful people, or I would have used a different name.”

“And Pemmi Kalanh is Dac Enab’s niece too,” she said, as though she already knew she was allowed to defend herself against all attacks and did not much care either way. “Does that make him your son? Or are you on different sides of the family?”

Dooku sighed. Force give him patience. “Are you familiar with the classical workings of Zykos Lpirna?”

“I know how to square skip,” she said, unhelpfully.

“This is not music for square skipping.”

Kylen laughed as he held the door to the private box open for her. She stopped, and he could feel her surprise in the Force.

“You were not expecting this, I take it.”

“No.” She was smiling again, strolling forward, picking her way between the meditation mats and the small tea table. “No, Master, I was not expecting an exact replica of a meditation chamber in this concert hall.” She leaned on the railing, looking out over the orchestra and the sea of people trickling into their seats.

Dooku moved rather more serenely to stand next to her and watch the last few musicians take their seats and begin to tune their instruments.

“Now what?”

“Now we listen.” He walked back to the tea table. The water was already hot, so he poured each of them a cup, knowing the answer even as he asked: “Would you like tea?”

“Please. Montellan Blue, if you…” Kylen trailed off as she turned to see him already holding her preferred tea leaves. “Of course you have it.”

“Of course.”

They each took a cup and settled on a meditation mat.

“So you just drink your tea and listen?” Kylen asked as the shuffle of the audience seating themselves began to die down.

Dooku nodded, sipping his tea and deepening his breathing.

“Okay.”

He perhaps ought to have warned her that they would be meditating on mats and not sitting in the stuffy seats of the wealthy, he thought as she repositioned her formal tunic to better tuck her feet under her knees as she sat cross-legged on her mat. She was nothing if not resourceful though—he had learned that the hard way and then some in the ten years since he had met the little girl on Vriis—and soon she had finished her tea with a contented sigh and a smile, and then the music started and she closed her eyes.

Dooku allowed himself a smile as the music swelled until it felt like his heart would simply burst from the overwhelming beauty of it all. He felt a thousand little lights in the Force as the orchestra fed those same emotions to every being in the audience. The brightest one, the warmest by far, was the one next to him.

The Jedi Temple was a brighter place because of her; the Order itself seemed more hopeful, less complacent. Kylen was not one to sit back and let the galaxy take care of itself.

No, she was like him.

And now, as the orchestra rose to something faster, brighter, he felt her riotous joy through the Force.

It was not a trip to the zoo—her favorite pastime—but she was learning nonetheless. She heard the music.

He could have taught her. He had considered it many times, not least when Djarro Ghresh—Djarro Ghresh of all people—had asked her, but there was always that little tug in the Force telling him that someone else needed her more.

If only he had known just how much of a sense of humor the Force had. If only he had known from whom she would learn, which of the Jedi would sharpen her and be sharpened by her as beskar sharpens beskar.

But he had not, and even if he had known, would he have interfered? More than he did, anyway. He smiled to himself at the admission.

It was for the best that she had not become his padawan. There would have been a wonderful symmetry to it—like the earlier music of Lpirna—Dooku had found her, brought her to the Temple, given her occasional saber lessons as a youngling when so many others regarded her fierce determination (and propensity to tackle Kenobi after losing to him) with trepidation. Yes, it would have been beautifully symmetrical if, after all that, he became her master and she his padawan.

The Force had other ideas though, and looking back, he conceded, as usual, that it was for the best. Because she had a different master, he could fill a different role in her life, not a stern and strait-laced teacher, but a rather an indulgent mentor, one who could bring her to concerts, take her to five-star restaurants for wine tasting and hors d’oeuvres, teach her advanced saber moves with which to surprise Kenobi, and simply to be friends.

Their friendship was like the later works of Lpirna, the more mature ones. The music twisted; it went up when the audience expected it to go down, it softened when it could have rattled the bones. Those works were his favorites anyway. They never ceased to surprise him, to bring a smile to his face with their unexpectedness, to make him consider what he thought would happen and realize that the quirks made the music better.

He was almost startled to hear the final notes of the final movement fading away already. Dooku took another deep breath and opened his eyes.

Kylen was sitting on her mat, legs crossed underneath her, a faint smile on her face. If the lethargy of the rise and fall of her shoulders was anything by which to judge, she had been deep in meditation, perhaps to the point of visions.

She opened her eyes, the familiar spark dancing in them.

Or perhaps she had simply relaxed and enjoyed the music. That was why they had come, after all.

[stories-of-the-nrm]

The Fallen King

The Flying Scotsman rolls into the station at the end of a busy day.

Scott: Ahhh. Another successful non-stop run. The A3s will run this railway for years to come.

His driver, William winces.

William: I wouldn't say that, Scott. I've heard some rumors that Sir Nigel Gresley is set to put his latest design, the A4 into service next month.

Scott uncharacteristically splutters and turns red with annoyance.

Scott: This is preposterous! Have I not proven my worth to Sir Nigel Gresley? I can't just be replaced as if I haven't been operating this incredible service to the railway for over 10 years.

William: Shhh. Steady old boy. Just because the design is meant to provide high speed passenger rides, doesn't mean you will be replaced.

Scott: I sure hope so, William.

Time Skip

One day in 1938, Sir Nigel Gresley appeared at the sheds.

Nigel: Good morning, Scotsman.

Scott: Good morning, Sir.

Nigel: I know you've been feeling down about being replaced, but I bring good news. You are being seen as a role model by the A4s. In fact, I want you to take me to the Doncaster Works. There's an engine I want you to meet.

Scott sighs. He knows he shouldn't be so jealous, but he thought he would have his record at least a little longer.

Scott: Yes sir.

The Flying Scotsman takes Sir Nigel Gresley to the Doncaster Works. An engine freshly painted painted garter blue sits on the rails faceless.

Nigel: Now in just a minute, my latest modification of the A4 will wake up. I believe if this works, this engine will once again be a credit to the railway. In fact, as you have been the only engine in recent British history to do so, I want you to mentor this engine. Streamlining by design will make an engine fast, but it takes great skill to manage such high speeds.

Scott: Oh. Well it's an honor, sir.

Scott means what he says, but it's still bittersweet. To him it hurts to have to be responsible for training his own replacement. Being demoted from the Flying Scotsman services was quite a blow.

?: Hello?

Nigel: Ah yes. Welcome to the world young engine. I am your designer, Sir Nigel Gresley. Due to my fondness of birds, I decided to name you Mallard.

Mallard: Mallard, sir?

Nigel: Indeed. The Mallard is one of the most famous birds in the world. Due to the modification I added starting with your design, I highly believe you will become one of the most famous engines.

Mallard: My goodness. Thank you sir!

Sir Nigel Gresley chuckles. He walks over to the Flying Scotsman.

Nigel: This is one of my most famous engines, the Flying Scotsman, known for being the first official engine to reach 100 mph. He will act as your mentor regarding how to handle high speeds. We value fast, safe, and reliable service on this railway. Is that clear?

Mallard: Oh yes sir! Thank you for giving me a mentor.

Nigel: Well I'll just leave you two alone then. There's a lot of work to be done.

Scott sighs. It's not at all Mallard's fault that he feels this way. Given the circumstances, the least he can do is make Mallard as reliable as himself.

Time Skip

Mallard: Scotsman, why am I being asked to pull a train like this just to test my brake?

Scott: This is meant to simulate pulling a real train. The men added a dynamometer car to measure your speed and other elements of your performance.

Mallard: So it was just like my tests before I pulled my first passenger train.

Scott: Indeed. Only this time, the hope is that you will be fit to break the speed record. Should the bearing on your middle cylinder overheat even with the modifications, it would mean more work is to be done. We don't want you hurting yourself just to break a speed record.

Mallard contemplates this. He doesn't want to let anyone down. Especially if it's because of something he can't control.

Mallard: I understand.

Jospeh: Alright, Mallard. It's time to start our journey.

Mallard: Very well then, driver.

Mallard rolls out into the distance. Something about the day makes Scott only dread his worse fear is about to become a reality.

Time Skip

Crowd: He's done! Mallard broke the speed record!

Scott solemnly closed his eyes. Even though he isn't old by any means, this news made him feel as if he's aged.

Gordon: Why the long face, brother?

Scott: I feel as if my time to shine's ended before it truly ever began.

Gordon: Oh don't tell me that you're jealous of Mallard.

Scott looks at Gordon. He shakes his head knowing jealous isn't at all the correct term.

Scott: This is not at all Mallard's fault. He's simply doing what he's told like any young engine would. It isn't as if I didn't know my speed record would be broken one day.

Gordon: So why are you upset?

Scott: I wish I was able to have that to my name a while longer. To be allowed the chance to live out my prime as the best of the best. I would be willing to accept being replaced should it be well over 50 years of service and I'm no longer reliable. But to be replaced this soon.... I just didn't expect it.

Gordon: At the end of the day this is a business. What's best for the business is to ensure our passengers have fast, safe, and reliable rides. By mentoring Mallard, you are ensuring that guarantee. That is being a really useful engine. Like I said before, get some perspective Scott.

Scott shuts his eyes sighing again. If only there was a way to explain that Gordon is right but he should still be allowed to his feelings.

Scott: I only hope that Mallard doesn't meet the same fate as me. Falling from grace for things that is not at all your fault is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. No one should ever have to worry about facing the cutter's torch.

Gordon: Indeed, Scott. Indeed.

AN: Thank you anon for requesting this. I didn't realize that the real life A4s did in fact replace the Flying Scotsman until I started learning about the history a little bit more.

Tagging: @nelllia, @gordon208, @jayde-jots, @mintydeluxes-blog, and @engineer-gunzelpunk.

[newtonsheffield]

Can I maybe request some spicy Sunday for the titanic au? Maybe something with our Anthony being distracted by her hips in those trousers?

Hmmmmm

Sure

Let's welcome Titanic Kate and Anthony to their first Spicy Sunday

She was distracting. Some days Anthony was sure he hadn't stopped staring at his wife from the moment she'd called out to him as he fumbled over the railing on the ship. For just a moment, he'd thought he was already dead when he heard her voice and he turned towards her and the air in his lungs had frozen. Her hair had been whipping around her, inky spirals nearly lost to the night sky and the ship's lamps had been like a halo around her and he hadn't been able to breathe.

He'd stumbled, falling backwards in surprise and she'd moved so quickly he'd known she was an angel. Her breathing panicked as she dragged him back over the railing and it hadn't been until his back had it the deck of the ship and her legs had straddled him that he'd realised he could feel her. He could feel where his hands had landed on her hips, the rough fabric of her trousers and he could feel her chest heaving against his and her hair tickling his forehead,

"Are you alright?"

Her brow was furrowed as she'd stared down at him and her nose had nearly been brushing his and he'd sat, frozen, staring at her.

"I'm not-"

"Sir! Step away from her!"

They'd been pulled apart by guards seconds later but even so, he hadn't stopped looking at her.

She was the reason he was still alive. In more ways than one. He'd stared at her while he hung in the water and her hand had gripped his, and her words had been pressed against his skin while her family stared curiously at them.

If you die I'll be very cross with you, Anthony.

You can ask me to marry you and then die. I wouldn't make a good widow, and you know it.

Please hold on, please, They're coming for us. I can see the lights. We're going to have a whole life together I just need you to hold on for a moment longer.

He hadn't stopped staring as they'd stood in the registry office with his hand in hers, the lie coming easily to his lips.

"My Wife and I were married aboard the Titanic before it sank."

And he hadn't stopped staring at her since. Never. Huddled together in their tiny rented apartment making their plans to return to England, his family likely now in even more distress now that they thought him dead, a responsibility he would have to shoulder again soon. But for now he had Kate. This life they were building together, so much more beautiful than he'd ever imagined.

All he did was stare at her, even now, watching her across their tiny bedroom with her brow furrowed and charcoal on her fingertips.

"I can feel you staring at me."

Anthony chuckled, adjusting his arm behind his head, "what am I supposed to do."

She rolled her eyes, her wedding ring shining against her hand for a moment, his words echoing through his head for a moment I'll get you the one you deserve one day "Well, for one, you're not supposed to move while I'm drawing you."

The sunlight was streaming through the window, warming the room, making the shirt she'd plucked from his wardrobe to cover herself with a little transparent where it stretched over her stomach only just beginning to swell.

He'd seen her in a dress, twice. Once when she'd been condescendingly dragged to the dining room, and another when they'd married. Every other day she'd worn a trousers and shirt and he'd asked her about it, curiously only days after they'd married.

"You prefer trousers."

Her brow had furrowed as they'd lain together, their legs intertwined. "Yes, and I don't intend to change that."

Anthony chuckled, kissing her neck, "I don't intend to change anything about you, Love."

"Well, intend to make you keep that beard, so perhaps you're a better person than I am. It's very handsome."

The truth was, she didn't look like herself outside of her trousers, even if they distracted him to no end. Every time he looked at her, his eyes caught on the way her trousers clung to the curve of her hips and her braces hung around her waist and the undershirt she wore at home exclusively clung to her body and lately he'd been nothing but distracted by the way it clung to the swell where their child was being nurtured into life. The brightest spot in all this struggle.

"Sorry," Anthony grinned at her, rolling towards her. "Is this how I was?"

"You know it wasn't."

He shook his hair letting it fall in his eyes as he hadn't bothered to slick it back today, no intention of emerging from their bedroom until lunchtime, his embarrassment at his mother-in-law likely knowing exactly what kept them abed for so long, long since faded. He rolled again, reaching the end of the bed, "Was I here?"

"You weren't," Kate said primly though her tongue darted out to lick her lips, her eyes trailing down his bare chest.

"Oh, I'm sure I was."

"No."

Anthony stood slowly, leaning forwards until he was practically leaning over her, his voice dropping as heat settled in his stomach and their lips nearly brushed "Perhaps I was here."

He could feel her breath hitch against his lips, felt the moment her eyes drifted down to his lips, and her voice was breathless when she finally managed to speak, "I think you were."

Her hand darted out, wrapping around the back of his neck and tugging him down until his lips crashed against hers and the moan that fell from his lips ached in his chest.

It was overwhelming, it always was, had been from the very first moment their lips had touched on board and he hadn't been able to think anything but there's no one else for me. I'm yours, forever. He knew every inch of her now, knew how her lips would move against his and he knew how her tongue would tangle with his and a sense of overwhelming comfort settled in his chest along with everything else.

He swallowed her moan, reaching forward and tugging her up against his chest biting off a curse when her legs wrapped around his waist. He stepped backwards until his legs hit the mattress and they tumbled down, his heart hammering in his chest at the sound of Kate's giggle in his ear.

"I love you."

Kate was staring down at him, her fingers smudging against the white of his shirt as she unbuttoned it, his chest tight as her skin shone in the sunlight.

"I love you too."

Her lips swallowed his words as they met again and her hips started grinding against his, heat flickering in his stomach, setting him on fire for her.

His eyes rolled back in his head as they started moving together, the feel of them overwhelming as her skin slid against his in the sticky summer heat and he was lost to everything else. Nothing else mattered but the feel of her, nothing but her fingers intertwined with his and her lips clashing desperately with his.

Oh, Fuck, Kate

He bit it off, his throat raw as his hands gripped her hips tightly, her fingernails scratching against his chest leaving dark smudges against his pale skin. His chest felt tight, as tension rippled around the room and the air seemed to thicken with it. Sweat built on their skin and Anthony couldn't take his eyes off his wife.

Her cheeks were flushed, her hair hanging around them in unruly curls, even as she pushed it back to keep their eyes locked together and her shoulders heaved and her eyes rolled back. The sun was lit behind her and there was nothing in the entire world but the two of them.

A growl built in his chest and he moved without realising it, rolling them quickly until she was pinned beneath him, her eyes shining as their rhythm started again, her fingers tightening in his hair brushing it back from his forehead.

Fuck, Anthony!

It took them both by surprise, as Kate fell apart, shuddering against him and Anthony fell over the edge as well, clinging to her desperately just as he always was these days.

"We need to stop this." Kate groaned, rolling them again, taking him with her until his head was nestled against her bare chest and his hand settled on the swell of her stomach.

"We're honeymooning." Anthony sighed against her, kissing the skin under his lips quickly.

"We've been married four months, Love."

Anthony rolled his eyes, sitting up "That's newly married."

"I'm not sure it is." Kate sighed, "Especially not when you've already a baby on the way."

"Well, that happened... in anticipation of our wedding vows I think so, it doesn't count." Anthony sighed a little smugly, kissing his way down her body, nudging her legs apart, "So I should stop then?"

Kate scoffed, twisting her fingers in his hair, "Well, I never said that."

[thelastwarriorofsunflowers]

Redhead Revival 2!:

Blake yells out in surprise,” What do you mean long story?!? Adam you’re supposed to be dead in a river!”

Yang backs that up with a retort,” Yeah! We didn’t kill you just to be alive again!”

“Again, I iterate it is a long story. Just trust me, or the very least Summer and Pyrrha,” Adam had replied.

Yang replied,” We will trust you and Thief there once we want to, I will trust my mom and my friend though.”

Ruby, Weiss, and Blake also stand in agreement with this statement by saying,” Yeah!”

With team RWBY ready to listen to Summer and Pyrrha’s story, Jaune is crying. Now of sadness though, but of joy and relief! Jaune is just hugging Pyrrha tightly saying to himself," Please don't be dream."

As he is saying this Pyrrha is uncomfortable, and say to him," Who are you?"

RWBYJ is in shock over the fact Pyrrha had forgotten her first love. Jaune lets go of her and replies,” What do you mean who am I? I was your leader, friend, crush…”

Pyrrha tells him,” I’m sorry? I don’t know you sir.”

Jaune in shock; looks over to Ren waiting for a response.

“She only really remembers the last person she saw. Same with Adam, Roman, and Summer. Adam remembers Yang and Blake. Roman remembers Neo and Ruby. Summer remembers Salem. We have been trying to make them remember there memories, but it’s been hard without key information,” Ren explained with a bit of sadness. After Ren had said that, silence would sink in the room.

“So… she only remembers Cinder the most,” Jaune said, breaking the silence in the room.

Ren furthering in explaining what happened,” Essentially yes but… since she did not know much about Cinder it ended with her having not much of a memory.”

Ruby curious asked,” So does my own mom not know anything about me?”

Oscar speaks up after being silent for a while,” Essentially yes, but if you can recover their memories by talking and interacting with them. Pyrrha remembers slight bits of Nora and Ren for example.”

Roman speaks up for this first time,” So Red, where’s my partner in crime?”

Ruby finches a bit, but composes herself to tell him. “Roman… she’s still there. She is reforming… she chased me down because she thought you died because of me. And now she is going to reform.”

“So she’s just stuck there? That seems like her.” Roman understood what Red had told him.

Ruby speaks to him,” She’ll come back once she is ready.”

Roman nods acknowledging this,” Well Red, at least she is safe.”

Ruby responded,” Yeah.” Ruby then continued towards her mother. “Do you know me or Yang, mom?”

Sunmer answer with confusion,” I have children?”

Yang and Ruby gasp at this. Yang starts to breakdown, not just because of the revelation that Summer forgot her, but at the fact one of the major influences of her life forgot her. Ruby on the other hand is distraught. Her mom, the person she idolized forgot her. Ruby broke for a second time. She fell to her knees and was crying, so was Yang.

Jaune having the courage to ask the big question, asked,” How hard is it to recover their memories?”

Ren told them with a simple answer,” It is hard, but not impossible.”

—————

Welp that was Part 2! Sorry, it took too long! I was busy with programs and my computer had broke. (Plus I have been playing a bit too much Star Rail.) So I hope you enjoyed this chapter of the story, and know Part 3, I hope, will take less time too complete than this part!

[variousqueerthings]

I am being promised a deconstruction of BJ (a literal one, his construction is being dissolved and he’s So not okay) and it is being handed to me!!!

So Operation Friendship, right? That was an episode that happened. It feels like it exists in tandem with Period of Adjustment in the long-simmering-boiling-over BJ saga (and right after that he went aaaalmost off the rails in No Sweat, and I am not convinced that after Hawkeye snapping at him that Peggy’s gonna leave him that nothing would have happened, that man is as taut as one of those ropes they use to tie up boats that can smash buildings if frayed too much -- BUT I digress, it was a fun-episode, and therefore it ended in fun + that all happened in the shower which was also... a choice... as we know about showers and MASH)

(also Hawkeye is SO invested in the Hunnicutt marriage, it’s not even funny anymore)

Operation Friendship

1. BJ’s insistence that Everything Is Fine

2. Hawkeye’s insistence on playing nurse-maid, constantly staying by his bed, making suggestions for an ice pack, an insurance exam, etc. (and I have that post queued up that talks about how genders are constructed differently in the 4077th, ex. Doctor and Nurse, rather than Man and Woman, but also Caregiver and Care-needer, Protector and Protected, Senior Officer and Lower Ranking, everything that Klinger does, including “Just A Guy From Toledo” and “Maxine,” Daddy/Dad/Father and Mommy/Mom/Mother (not related to Man and Woman), Sir and Ma’am (also not related to Man and Woman), etcetcetc and they’re not necessarily as binary or rigid as they may be perceived here either!)

3. Hawkeye’s caretaking of BJ is not the same as BJ’s caretaking of Hawkeye, and BJ doesn’t like it! He acquiesced to it back in Period of Adjustment because he was at his lowest and therefore couldn’t help it + he’d hit Hawkeye earlier and I’d HC that plays into it, but it’s far more often BJ-in-support-of-Hawkeye (whether it be a scheme and/or a mental state and/or physical support -- I mean protecting him from getting beaten up of course...)

that’s their Roles! Hawkeye is messing with the Order Of Things!

4. Hawkeye’s territorialism???? His possessiveness?????????? 

5. going back to BJ’s insistence that Everything Is Fine: I just wrote in a tag that BJ s4-7 seemed to (basically, simplifying here) frame him as “sure he has issues too but it’s a war, and maybe there’s some performativity to his Self, first really highlighted by the surprise that he’d be the mastermind of pranks when he’s just a good American boy, and then seen several times ex. in the mystery of his name, but ultimately he’s trucking”

and then s8 was like “what if BJ is just straight-up losing his mind and ability to place himself in the future and desperately clawing for that future (which looks too much like the past) and possibly knowing it can never be that way, and sometimes he just snaps I Guess!

Hawkeye Is supposed to be the frayed one. He’s got Issues, that’s what everyone knows. BJ is an amiable, getting-along-with-things, Father and Husband. He takes care of Hawkeye, not the other way around! Not like this!

6. the ending of the episode once again forcing BJ to acknowledge a need for help in the face of literally being about to lose his hand. My guy. You can... ask for help sooner.... it’s...... it’s cool.......... (it isn’t)

(his hand looks so bad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

7. Also the ending of the episode having Hawkeye relinquish his need to take care of him, again because he could actually lose his hand!!! 

What! Am! I Supposed! To! Make! Of! The! Metaphor?! Of it all???? The Symbolism???? The Dissolving Of Stability!????

8. BJ still taking the time to threaten the doctor when he’s talking Hawkeye down!

9. the fact that they both laugh about how they could’ve just let BJ die in order to get the last laugh on the hand specialist guy. It’s morbid sure, but it’s not just that, it’s... idk. The only way they could talk about how fucking close that one was? Skirting around the Ways they both went about the whole thing? Deliberately restoring equilibrium with the most tasteless joke BJ could think of, testing the waters to make sure everything is fine again

also the way they both gang up on the specialist... rewatching it, because I felt like he wasn’t that obnoxious, he was just stating that he has a speciality and would like to be respected for it, as well as literally having practised medicine for longer than either of them, while Hawkeye hovers over him and tries to find reasons to critique... and yeah, they were definitely coping by finding a scapegoat there, good thing he wasn’t sticking around for longer, they would have been such mean girls! But they needed that too in order to cope

TL;DR BJ and Hawkeye were so okay this whole episode, except for the fact that they were utterly unhinged about each other, about social (gender) roles, and about needing and giving help

[fictitiousfanfics]

Can you write a fic about amar as a pirate?

“Ehhh…. Sure Can!!! ^^”

“With the Stars as my guide”

Pirate amar

The sky clear and blue just as the sea, ships with foods and animals came from places she had never been to. While merchants sold stuff along the docks, she kept a hood on. Guards from the kingdom in which she was wanted in were around during this time.

Even so, she was quick and clever. Weaving through the crowd as if all the people were mapped out accordingly. Plucking small items from the pssserbys with one swoop motion. Everything was going along nicely. Up until a child had ran and accidentally knocked into her. All her stolen goods spilled out onto the floor.

It caused a slight commotion. But once on if the gaurds had grabbed her. Demanding to know why this theif was stealing, her hood had been yanked off.

“It’s you!- looks like you won’t be stealing anymore once the comendor tells us what to do with you!” The guard exclaimed.

But amar wasnt going down that easily. Planting her feet firmly on the ground she grabbed his arm and twisted. Her foot crossing one of his legs as she yanked him forward. He was on the floor and had let go.

“STOP YOU THEIF!” He yelled but to no avail.

Amar was running. Her gold jewelry that she had stolen from weeks within the kingdom were shining. The people of the market gasped. They were trying to move out of the way as to not get in trouble.

Guards lurched at her. Missing by a hair or running into something she had just turned behind.

Soon enough as one of the ships were leaving, amar got to the edge of the docks. Panting as she looked behind. Gaurds hot on her tail. It was this or hanging. So she ran onto another docked boat. Shoving people past as she got to the tip of that boat and jumped. Tumbling into the sailing boat. Landing on her face.

“Oh fuck- haha- i made it!!!” She cheered with joy as she sat up and looked around. Her smile fading quickly as she realized what boat she had gone aboard.

“Pirates..” she mumbled aloud. And she was right. Pirates got closer. Their swords and guns at the ready. She pressed herself against the railing way and gulped. It looked like she was bound to die this day.

But a voice rang out clear and bold. “Avast- what have we here?” It asked. The pirates stopped closing in as they separated and made a path. A pirate with a large hat and feather attached. One peg leg accompanied his real leg. A pipe in one of his hands.

“A theif sir- from the mainland” one of the pirates answered

“Theif?” He repeated. Taking a blow of his pipe.

“Yes but only for the kingdom- they are cruel and unjust with their taxing of food. Many cannot afford to eat even an apple!” Amar had tried to argue.

“Aye but a Theif nonetheless…” the captin thought aloud.

“Aren’t pirates all about stealing? Why are you giving me talk as if i am worse! Pirates kill and plunder. !” Amar snapped out.

The pirates just looked between the two.

“Aye… but tis be bad luck having a women onboard…” one of the pirates told the captin.

“What can yee offer us?” The captin stared at amar.

“…” she thought for a moment before speaking out again. “The stars- i Can be a charter if needed. Guide you to whatever land you wish to seek.” She said confidently. Though she was unconfident in herself.

“There ye have it lads. Get this pirate some actual clothes” the captin chuckled. “Whats yer name miss”

“Amar… With the stars as my guide you won’t ever be lost”

“Glad t’ have ye onboard lass.”

Her first day as a pirate. And she had been almost killed.

[renaissanceclassics]

The Pilgrims Progress: Part 3

The Pilgrim’s Progress: Part 3

The Pilgrim’s Progress: Part 3

Listen to: The Second Stage, at Renaissance Classics Podcast.

Then did Christian address himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God-speed. So he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor, if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was got into the way which he left, to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel. So, in process of time, Christian got up to the gate. Now, over the gate there was written, 'Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.' [Matt 7:8]

"He that will enter in must first without Stand knocking at the Gate, nor need he doubt That is A KNOCKER but to enter in; For God can love him, and forgive his sin."

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying

"May I now enter here? Will he within Open to sorry me, though I have been An undeserving rebel? Then shall I Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high."

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good-will, who asked who was there? and whence he came? and what he would have?

 Christian:  Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered from the wrath to come. I would therefore, Sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in?

GOOD-WILL. I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he opened the gate.

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then said Christian, What means that? The other told him. A little distance from this gate, there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain; from thence, both he and them that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they can enter in.

Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got in, the man of the gate asked him who directed him thither?

 Christian:  Evangelist bid me come hither, and knock, (as I did); and he said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do.

GOOD-WILL. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.

Christian:  Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.

GOOD-WILL. But how is it that you came alone?

Christian:  Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine.

GOOD-WILL. Did any of them know of your coming?

Christian:  Yes; my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn again; also, some of my neighbours stood crying and calling after me to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way.

GOOD-WILL. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back?

Christian:  Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but when they saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way.

GOOD-WILL. But why did he not come through?

 Christian:  We, indeed, came both together, until we came at the Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbour, Pliable, discouraged, and would not venture further. Wherefore, getting out again on that side next to his own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for him; so he went his way, and I came mine he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.

GOOD-WILL. Then said Good-will, Alas, poor man! is the celestial glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it?

 Christian:  Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable, and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and myself. It is true, he went back to his own house, but I also turned aside to go in the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman.

GOOD-WILL. Oh, did he light upon you? What! he would have had you a sought for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality. They are, both of them, a very cheat. But did you take his counsel?

Christian:  Yes, as far as I durst; I went to find out Mr. Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head; wherefore there I was forced to stop.

GOOD-WILL. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many more; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.

Christian:  Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again, as I was musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit, indeed, for death, by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my lord; but, oh, what a favour is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here!

GOOD-WILL. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they have done before they came hither. They are in no wise cast out [John vi.37]; and therefore, good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee; dost thou see this narrow way? THAT is the way thou must go; it was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles; and it is as straight as a rule can make it. This is the way thou must go.

 Christian:  But, said Christian, are there no turnings or windings by which a stranger may lose his way?

GOOD-WILL. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and wide. But thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being straight and narrow. [Matt 7:14]

Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him further if he could not help him off with his burden that was upon his back; for as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off without help.

He told him, As to thy burden, be content to bear it, until thou comest to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of itself.

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. So the other told him, That by that he was gone some distance from the gate, he would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he would show him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God-speed.

Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where he knocked over and over; at last one came to the door, and asked who was there.

 Christian:  Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of the good-man of this house to call here for my profit; I would therefore speak with the master of the house. So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian, and asked him what he would have.

Christian:  Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from the City of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion; and I was told by the man that stands at the gate, at the head of this way, that if I called here, you would show me excellent things, such as would be a help to me in my journey.

INTERPRETER:  Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will show that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow him: so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang up against the wall; and this was the fashion of it. It had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of truth was written upon his lips, the world was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over his head.

Christian:  Then said Christian, What meaneth this?

INTERPRETER:  The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand; he can beget children [1 Cor. 4:15], travail in birth with children [Gal. 4:19], and nurse them himself when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with men: and whereas thou seest the world as cast behind him, and that a crown hangs over his head, that is to show thee that slighting and despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going, hath authorised to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way; wherefore, take good heed to what I have shewed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death.

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlour that was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither the water, and sprinkle the room; the which, when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

 Christian:  Then said Christian, What means this?

INTERPRETER:  The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the gospel; the dust is his original sin and inward corruptions, that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is the Law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest, that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith; this is to shew thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue. [Rom. 7:6; 1 Cor. 15:56; Rom. 5:20]

Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to show thee, that when the gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit. [John 15:3; Eph. 5:26; Acts 15:9; Rom. 16:25,26; John 15:13]

I saw, moreover, in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two little children, each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much discontented; but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, What is the reason of the discontent of Passion? The Interpreter answered, The Governor of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of the next year; but he will have all now: but Patience is willing to wait.

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet, the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him but rags.

 Christian:  Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter more fully to me.

INTERPRETER:  So he said, These two lads are figures: Passion, of the men of this world; and Patience, of the men of that which is to come; for as here thou seest, Passion will have all now this year, that is to say, in this world; so are the men of this world, they must have all their good things now, they cannot stay till next year, that is until the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush', is of more authority with them than are all the Divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags; so will it be with all such men at the end of this world.

Christian:  Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. First, because he stays for the best things. Second, and also because he will have the glory of his, when the other has nothing but rags.

INTERPRETER:  Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the next world will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience, because he had his good things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last; for first must give place to last, because last must have his time to come; but last gives place to nothing; for there is not another to succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion first, must needs have a time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly; therefore it is said of Dives, "Thou in thy life-time receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." [Luke 16:25]

Christian:  Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, but to wait for things to come.

INTERPRETER:  You say the truth: "For the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal." [2 Cor. 4:18] But though this be so, yet since things present and our fleshly appetite are such near neighbours one to another; and again, because things to come, and carnal sense, are such strangers one to another; therefore it is, that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the second.

Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand, and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace that is wrought in the heart; he that casts water upon it, to extinguish and put it out, is the Devil; but in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had him about to the backside of the wall, where he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast, but secretly, into the fire.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart: by the means of which, notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of his people prove gracious still. [2 Cor. 12:9] And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire, that is to teach thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in the soul.

I saw also, that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was builded a stately palace, beautiful to behold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also, upon the top thereof, certain persons walking, who were clothed all in gold.

Then said Christian, May we go in thither?

Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up towards the door of the palace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in; but durst not. There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his inkhorn before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein; he saw also, that in the doorway stood many men in armour to keep it, being resolved to do the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying, Set down my name, Sir: the which when he had done, he saw the man draw his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had received and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, he cut his way through them all [Acts 14:22], and pressed forward into the palace, at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the palace, saying

"Come in, come in; Eternal glory thou shalt win."

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they. Then Christian smiled and said; I think verily I know the meaning of this.

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the Interpreter, till I have shewed thee a little more, and after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by the hand again, and led him into a very dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage.

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his heart. Then said Christian, What means this? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man.

Then said Christian to the man, What art thou? The man answered, I am what I was not once.

 Christian:  What wast thou once?

MAN. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor, both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I once was, as I thought, fair for the Celestial City, and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither. [Luke 8:13]

Christian:  Well, but what art thou now?

MAN. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh, now I cannot!

Christian:  But how camest thou in this condition?

MAN. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins, upon the neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the Word and the goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone; I tempted the devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked God to anger, and he has left me: I have so hardened my heart, that I cannot repent.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for such a man as this? Ask him, said the Interpreter. Nay, said Christian, pray, Sir, do you.

INTERPRETER:  Then said the Interpreter, Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron cage of despair?

MAN. No, none at all.

INTERPRETER:  Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

MAN. I have crucified him to myself afresh [Heb. 6:6]; I have despised his person [Luke 19:14]; I have despised his righteousness; I have "counted his blood an unholy thing"; I have "done despite to the Spirit of grace". [Heb. 10:28-29] Therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings, of certain judgement and fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an adversary.

INTERPRETER:  For what did you bring yourself into this condition?

MAN. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; in the enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight; but now every one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me like a burning worm.

INTERPRETER:  But canst thou not now repent and turn?

MAN. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no encouragement to believe; yea, himself hath shut me up in this iron cage; nor can all the men in the world let me out. O eternity, eternity! how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in eternity!

INTERPRETER:  Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.

Christian:  Well, said Christian, this is fearful! God help me to watch and be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this man's misery! Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?

INTERPRETER:  Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way.

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber, where there was one rising out of bed; and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began and said, This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony; so I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate, upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven; they were all in flaming fire: also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgement"; and with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains. [1 Cor. 15:52; 1 Thes. 4:16; Jude 14; John 5:28,29; 2 Thes. 1:7,8; Rev. 20:11-14; Isa. 26:21; Micah 7:16,17; Ps. 95:1-3; Dan. 7:10] Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out and came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar. [Mal. 3:2,3; Dan. 7:9,10] I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the cloud, Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake. [Matt. 3:12; 13:30; Mal. 4:1] And with that, the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, "Gather my wheat into the garner." [Luke 3:17] And with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind. [1 Thes. 4:16,17] I also sought to hide myself, but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind; and my conscience did accuse me on every side. [Rom. 3:14,15] Upon this I awaked from my sleep.

 Christian:  But what is it that made you so afraid of this sight?

MAN. Why, I thought that the day of judgement was come, and that I was not ready for it: but this frighted me most, that the angels gathered up several, and left me behind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood. My conscience, too, afflicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, shewing indignation in his countenance.

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all these things?

Christian:  Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.

INTERPRETER:  Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. Then said the Interpreter, The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the City. So Christian went on his way, saying

"Here I have seen things rare and profitable; Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable In what I have begun to take in hand; Then let me think on them, and understand Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee."

[theorphaninthetardis]

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Christmas ends, and the Doctor departs. Sophie's holiday doesn't end until New Year's, so she accompanies Jack back to the Hub. They arrive in the middle of the night, and Sophie takes the time to start going through some of the archives.

Eight AM arrives before she even realises it, and she ascends the stairs back up to the main Hub. Ianto smiles as she enters the room, "Did you have a Happy Christmas, Sophie?"

She grins back at him, and approaches the desks, "Yeah, Ianto. I did, thanks. And you?"

"It was about the same as normal," he shrugs, and then exits the room.

She glances over at the rest of Torchwood to find them gathered around the monitor. She glances at the screen, and visibly stiffens. "What the actual f*ck," she swears, standing from the wheelie chair. Sophie walks toward the screen, pushing Owen over to the side, "No, no. That is not right. Not in any universe."

On screen there is a woman being escorted out of her home. It's one Sarah Jane Smith. "I don't know," Owen shrugs, "Says here she's a child abductor. I think that seems pretty d*mn right to me."

Sophie rolls her eyes, ignoring the doctor. "Jack!" she calls out over her shoulder.

The immortal steps out of his office, and leans against the railing, "What's wrong, Soph?"

"I need a lift to Ealing, and I need for you to make a call."

He shrugs, and nods, "Yeah, okay. Let me grab my coat and keys."

Owen looks up at him incredulously, "What you're just going to do as she asks. No questions asked?"

"Yeah," Jack nods, and turns back to his office. He reappears a moment later with his coat on, and a set of keys in his hands. As he descends the stairs, he looks over at Sophie. "C'mon, we can make the call on the way."

She wraps her arms around his waist, as they head for the garage, "Thank, Jack," she smiles, as he opens the door for her.

"Course, kid. You know there isn't much that I wouldn't do for you." He climbs into the driver's seat, and tosses his phone to her. "Want to give me the basics on what's going on. Can't really do much unless I know."

Sophie nods, as she dials the number for the Ealing police department. "The woman who got arrested, her name is Sarah Jane Smith. She was one of the Doctor's companions. And she's gotta be innocent."

"All I needed was friend of the Doctor's," he says, taking the phone from Sophie's hand. He puts it on speaker as he hits the call button. "This is Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood."

There's a crackling from the other end of the phone, and then a startled voice says, "Torchwood?" Followed by a more composed, "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"You have a Sarah Jane Smith within your custody, correct?"

"Uh," the person says, "Yes, sir."

"Good. I want her released immediately."

"Sir?"

Jack glances over at Sophie, and smirks, "You heard me. I want her released. Go tell whoever you need to that she's to go, free of any and all charges."

There is once again a crackling sound, and some whispers, "Yes sir, of course, sir."

Jack hangs up, and shoves his phone back into his coat pocket, all while keeping his eyes on the road. He glances over to see Sophie staring at him like he grew a new head. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Jack confirms that he still only has one head, and glances over at the woman once again, "What?"

"It's that easy?"

"For me, yeah." He focuses his eyes back on the road, and Sophie starts to fiddle with the radio. "Y'know, it is a two and a half hour drive to Ealing. That gives you plenty of time to tell me more about Ms. Smith."

"Right," Sophie nods, and leans back in her seat. "Where to begin?"

"Usually you'd start at the beginning."

She makes a face at Jack, "Oh, ha ha. This is the Doctor we're talking about, it's hard to find the beginning of a story with him in the picture."

Jack nods, "Okay, fair enough."

She sighs, "Alright, so Sarah Jane is a journalist, who grew up in the care of her aunt. She met the Doctor when he was called in by UNIT back in the seventies. She's met so many different aliens, been to thousands of planets. She even watched him regenerate."

"So, she's something special."

"You know the Doc, he only takes the best."

"What happened then?"

"The Doctor had to go back to Gallifrey, so he left Sarah Jane on earth, and never came back to visit."

Jack makes a face, "So he abandoned her. I know what that's like."

"Yeah." Sophie goes back to fidgeting with the radio, as the car once again descends into silence.

***

Two hours later Jack pulls into 13 Bannerman Road. He shuts off the car, and climbs out. Sophie follows suit, looking around. She sees two faces at the window across the street, and smiles, before turning back to the door.

Jack bangs on the door, loudly. She looks over at him, and whacks him on the side of his head. "What was that for!" he grouses, rubbing his head.

"There's a doorbell, you idiot."

Jack shrugs, the door opening. Sophie is hidden from Sarah Jane's view, as she's behind a bush. The older woman stands there, her arms crossed, and a frown on her face. Jack gives her his best flirtatious smile, "Hello, ma'am."

She squints at him, taking in his appearance, "Who are you?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood."

"So you're the one responsible for getting me out of custody."

"Yes, and no." He grabs Sophie by her elbow, and pulls her to his side, in view of the door.

She waves awkwardly, and smiles, "Hi, Sarah. It's been a while."

Sarah Jane sighs, stepping aside and ushering the duo inside. She busies herself with making some tea, while Jack and Sophie take a seat at the table, and glance at each other.

The woman walks over, and hands both Jack and Sophie a cuppa, and then sits down in her own seat. "So, what brings you here?"

Jack glances over at Sophie, "She told me that you needed some help. I am always happy to help a friend of the Doctor's."

Sarah Jane takes a sip of her tea, "You know the Doctor then?"

"Yeah," Jack shrugs, "You could say that. I travelled with him a little bit."

"Really," she asks, raising her eyebrows. "I travelled with him for a while as well."

"So Sophie tells me." Jack sets his cup down on the table in front of him. "She also tells me that there is no way you're a child abductor, so what happened?"

Sarah Jane sighs, "Luke. He was created by the Bane, or so I thought."

"But, he was kidnapped instead," Sophie say

Sarah Jane nods sadly, and stares into her cup.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Sophie says, laying a hand on the older woman's hand. "That must be hard."

Sarah Jane shakes her head, "Oh, it's alright. I fought aliens before I met Luke. In fact," she says, climbing to her feet, "I was on my way to the Pharos Institute before you dropped in. I really should be heading back that way."

Jack stands up as well, "Let us join you. It's dangerous to go into alien infested issues alone."

She scans him, "Very well," her eyes linger on his holster, "But, no guns."

"You're the boss."

[grievousdearu]

Initiate

Four years.

Mama died four years ago.

She left me in a world that hates me, not because I did something wrong; but because of who- no, what I am.

I was just a mistake born into a life that has no meaning to anything.

A mistake who gets left by the people she loves, and that's all I will ever be: a mistake.

I've been told that for long enough to make it feel true, regardless of if it is. Even the times I've done anything of note, it's been discarded by people simply because I'm a Katari.

People will go on and on about how 'our kind' is a monstrosity, then those same people turn around and enslave others so they don't have to work. The hypocrisy of these people is disgusting, but over my lonely time in society, I've come to recognize- but not accept, mind you- that is simply the way of this world. People who have money or power control the lives of those who don't. I found that out the hard way, many years ago.

And I'm having it reinforced again.

Being an orphaned child on the streets of Helmholtz, you quickly learn how to pickpocket people. If you don't, you'll learn what it feels like to go without food for weeks at a time. Even with the skills of a pickpocket, it wasn't uncommon for you to go days at a time without food.

Every day, I'd go onto the railings looking over the little square I'd effectively claimed as my territory and look for people who seemed like a good mark.

Obviously, there were times when I'd not get down quick enough and they'd already left, they'd have been a bad mark once I got closer to look them over, but I started to learn the characteristics of a good mark from a distance; cleaner folk, obvious traders, ones who weren't local, and so on.

Today I found one that checked a lot of the boxes for a good mark.

Just so happens I picked the wrong one this time.

As I'm regaining my consciousness, I feel myself rocking back and forth getting jostled around like I'm in the middle of a crowd during the Midsummer Festival, and as my hearing returns, I hear the sound of wood and hooves clopping against gravel.

I try to hold my hand to my head to try to ease the throbbing pain I feel, but my hands are stopped by the sudden stoppage caused by the rope my hands are bound by. The sound of the rope creaking grabs the attention of the young, pale man sitting across from me.

"You're finally awake, eh? Sleep well, darlin'?" He says to me.

"The sow is finally awake?" I hear the driver ask, "Good, we should be reaching the Lord's land shortly. He'll be anxiously awaiting his latest prize," he says as he silently laughs.

"You sure picked a bad target, didn't ya?" The one across from me says.

"I don't know what you mean," I calmly say to him.

"Don't bullshit me. We both know you tried to pick my pocket. Hadn't been for the man drivin' for us, you might've gotten away with it. As it stands now, be thankful I paid the officer who looked into it, else you might be rottin' in a prison cell for the next few months."

"From what I can already grasp from the kind of people you are, I'd prefer the cell," I say in response.

The man stands up, then kneels in front of me as he grabs my chin.

"You best drop that 'tude, sweetheart, that kinda garbage will get you nowhere, fast," he tells me in a low, almost whispering threat.

"If we're going nowhere, I'd like to take the next stop," I say as I pull away from him.

"Alright then," he says as he sits back down with a smile, "you'll only make the learnin' process harder on yourself. Not that I'm complainin'."

As we come to a clearing in the forest we've been traveling through for a while, the cart slowly begins to a stop.

"The hell are you stoppin' for, Ed? Still got a few kilometres to go," the younger man says.

No response.

He crawls forward and pokes his head out of the covered section of the wagon.

"Ed, come on, Sir Shamac is expect-"

He doesn't even get to finish his sentence before he visibly goes limp.

At first I was only concerned that the driver had stopped to use the bathroom, but after seeing the man in front of me likely just die, I began to panic.

I closed my eyes, bent over in the wagon seat, and put my hands against my mouth, very slowly. After that, I hear the sounds of whispering.

"...for her?"

I could only make out those words, and what I heard terrified me.

They knew I was here.

Before I had much more of a chance to panic, I heard one of the voices sigh before I hear someone climbing on the cart, then it gets very quiet for what felt far longer than what had actually passed.

"Are you perhaps, miss Natalia MacAllister?" A cloaked head popped into the wagon. His voice was audibly displeased.

My mind started rushing, flooding my thoughts about how I was about to be executed for a petty crime.

Then it suddenly came crashing to a halt when the man stepped into the cart and cut me free.

"If you are, we need to leave, quickly."

I don't know what I was thinking, but all I could do in response to what I'd just seen was nod.

After the two men returned from what I could only assume was 'disposal', they took the reigns of the horse and turned the cart around, after which one of the two came back with me.

"I was instructed to give you this," he says as he holds out a rolled-up piece of parchment.

Everything in my mind is screaming at me not to take it, but I do it anyway.

I open the letter, and the first words I see almost make me cry on the spot.

"Hi, Nattie. It's mama,” it reads.

I want to savour the moment where I felt like I was back in a time in my life when mama was still with me, but I instead keep reading.

If you are reading this letter, you are at least 18 by now and have come to understand most of the things that you need to. I'm sorry I wasn't there to teach you any of it, I really am, but sometimes life just throws you for a loop and things don't go to plan, but I don't have enough paper to write about all that… so let me just get to the point.

I'm sure you've figured out that you inherited some of my magic potentials. You may not have figured out how to use it yet, but I am confident that you know it's there; you're an incredibly intelligent girl. I want to give you the freedom to choose what you want to do with that potential, so I am entrusting your care to the people I worked for most of my life.

They are called the Shadow Collective.

They may seem to be nothing but criminals, but they allow people like us to be successful and viewed as such, not as monsters. I want you to at least be given the opportunity, so I've asked them to allow you into their ranks as an initiate, but I want you to understand that you are free to walk away from this if you so choose. But know that either decision you make, I will not hold it against you. Please think about this as you move forward with your life.

Love,

Mama.

A flow of so many emotions flows over me all at once, not one of them feeling like they’re right. A tiny wet spot appears on the bottom of the parchment, the sight of which makes me realize that I’m crying now.

Slowly I roll up the piece of paper and take a moment to think over what I’ve just been told.

Suddenly, with the arrival of this letter, so many things over the past four years make so much more sense. Why I was allowed to keep our house, why I always got lighter convictions for the crimes I got caught committing…

…all because she was still watching over me.

With that realization, I find in myself a sudden conviction that she knows where I need to be.

I look up and face the man sitting across from me, and for the first time in four years, I make a decision I know is right.

“Where do I start?”

[kikatouka]

It's so sexy of shiggy to keep winning against the heroes ahahaha..

[dazz-linglight]

Plzzzz a professor jake×reader smut like he gives u private lessons since u r failing n it turns into something else......

Thank u!

(hii, sorry I took so long to post it 🥺❤️)

Being in a private space with the hottest professor assistant, away from the prying eyes of all the other students, just you and Jake alone, shoulders brushing as he leans over to point on a question to explain it and you can't help but stare at him from time to time. You were supposed to be paying attention to what he is saying, but all you could think about is the shape of his full lips as it moved. His lower lip was red from his habit of biting it while he thinks and your mouth hangs slightly open, watering with the thought of kissing him.

"Are you listening?" Your attention snap back to his eyes, your face burning red as you nod and answer.

"Yes, of course." He knows you're lying and shakes his head, tutting his tongue but his eyes gleamed in amusement. It wasn't the first time he did this and you're not born yesterday to ignore the way he undresses you with his eyes whenever you meet for these private classes. His heated gaze always makes you rub your thighs together. Yet he doesn't fail to surprise you by placing a hand on your thigh, causing a tingle to run down your neck and heat going straight to your core, his digits heavy and firm as it travelled up, hiking your skirt.

"You weren't listening, were you?" You shake your head in denial, only to earn a stronger grip on the inside of your thigh. You whimpered as Jake's fingers travels up again, this time reaching the lace panties you had under the skirt.

"I'm gonna ask you again and I expect you to answer it properly. Were you listening?" He used a lower tone, speaking closer to your face while he brushed his fingers so close to your core that made you squeeze your legs together and trap him there.

"I wasn't. I'm sorry, sir."

"Now tell me, where did your mind go when you weren't listening to me?" Caught red handed and unable to admit that you were thinking about making out him, your mind was busy with plenty of filth that involved him, you and the table you wanted him to rail you on. The words were caught in your throat when he squeezed your thigh once more.

"Don't make me ask you twice." Your lips trembled, looking at his sharp jaw as you tried to say something, but in the end the only thing that came out of you was whine. Jake sighs, shaking his head with closed eyes as the grip on your thigh was relieved, only to have two of his digits against your embarrassingly soaked panties, pushing and rubbing slow circles.

"You really need help for everything, don't you? You want me to help you admit how much of a little slut you are, hm? It's easy, baby. You want to be fucked. That's the only thing in your mind right now, isn't? You want me to bend you over this desk and fuck the answers out of you. Am I right, my little slut?"

"Yes, sir." You managed to moan out after gathering the courage and separating your legs to give him space, not wanting him to stop his ministrations. Jake used his free hand to pet your hair while continuing.

"Can you say it for me? Say, 'I want you to fuck me.' Can you do that, hm? Will you be a good girl for me and say it?"

"I want you to fuck me, please."

"Good girl.." You whimpered at his words, his tone awakening the deepest parts of your brain and sent your body in a frenzy. You felt tingles on your neck as he gently moved the strands of your hair behind your ears, letting his knuckles graze the side of your soft neck.

"Are you really sure you want this from me?" He whispered wanting to confirm if you actually desired it and you nodded.

"I'm sure, Jake." You pant taking a hold of his wrist, not pushing it away.

"Then you better start counting." He ordered, maneuvering you into your knees and making you bend over the desk in front of you, rising your skirt to get a full view of your ass.

"Count-" You were interrupted by a sharp slap and squealed a "one.." just a second before he slapped the other cheek, going on and on until you count ten. By ten you were breathing faster and squirming against his crotch and making him harder.

Your heart is racing like crazy as he caresses the spots he marked red at this point, making it better than you have imagined countless times. You never really expected it to become reality. You've liked him ever since you started spending time together with him teaching you math and unknowingly, he been taking interest in you too.

"Thank you, sir.." You spoke up with a raspy voice and a slightly slutty manner with the purpose of riling him up more. You caused Jake to let out a chuckle, taking your face between his hands to make you look at him and initiated a slow kiss, taking the time to explore your lips and connect your tongues, having you at his mercy.

"My good girl, you're okay to continue?" He inched away seeing a thin line of saliva drop from your lips.

"Good." You pulled him in for another kiss, needier as you wanted to enjoy his full lips as much as possible, letting out a few moans when he slipped his hands to your core, this time pulling your panties down to feel you without barriers and gradually pushed one finger inside you, squeezing your thigh with the other hand and you moaned louder biting his lower lip.

His finger slowly went deeper into you, twisting and turning as his thumb rubbed your clit. You were forced to part the kiss to breath properly, loosing control of your moans when a second finger entered you and your legs started shivering. You fixed your hands on the table to keep balance and Jake knew you would cum at any second by the way you were clamping on his fingers. Your tummy showed signs of you getting to the extreme point of tolerance.

All too good until he pulled his fingers out, but before you could protest he was already opening the button of his jeans and didn't take long to insert his thick length inside you, slowly pushing in and pressing a hand on your back to make you bend more as he bottomed in, feeling your juices dripping coating him deliciously and paused to let you get used to his size.

Soon you were pleasing him to go on and he obeyed, going almost all the way out to push back in, adjusting the angle to get you back on the track to your climax. He made your wish come true, finding a steady pace that felt good for both of you and switching to a faster one from time to time. Those injecting, forceful thrusts are always the winners, his pelvis slamming into you, hitting the right spot perfectly. He doesn't fail to make you scream and whimper his name.

"AH- Jake, please!"

"Go on and cum, babe. I know you wanna make a mess on me." You lean over the desk as Jake kept on going harder and harder each time until you came hard, body trembling under his insatiable thrusts, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you go through your high.

Jake doesn't stop, pulling one of your legs up and your toes curled already feeling another high coming. A few droplets of tears rolled on your cheeks as the second orgasm washed over you.

"Such a good girl for me." Jake pants pulling out to jerk himself off and spilling on your skirt. You meowed at the praise and a moment later he helped you turn around so he could see you, immediately getting worried by the sight of your tears.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Jake asked in a softer tone, jumping into aftercare.

"I'm okay, just felt too good." You assure him still seeing stars and he brings you in a hug and back to petting your hair as you both come down from your highs, placing delicate kisses on your face.

"Let's leave that homework for later and have a warm bath?" He offers with those puppy eyes and you're quick to nod a yes to this journey.