#the throat goat herself

[shiftythrifting]

[m0nsterqzzz]

Happy Wife Happy Life

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

summary: being Clarisse's "wife" will always have it's perks

a/n: honestly don't know how to feel about this but I'm tired. anyway, kinda hate the ending. and my writing lol.

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Love is the greatest thing.

At least, in your eyes it is.

It can bring the strongest people to their knees, risking their lives or others lives just so that they can keep their person happy. It's always been amazing to you.

Not so much in your best friend Clarisse's. She'd much rather have the glory of being the strongest kid in school, or be feared by your classmates. "Love is stupid." She always tells you while she watches you study under the willow tree she likes climbing.

"No, it's not. It's powerful. You like powerful things don't you?" You'd say back with an airy laugh, then forcing her to come back down from the branches so you can help her with her math homework.

She's heard lots about the emotion called jealousy, but she'd never truly felt it until she saw Holly Bracken kiss your cheek during recess one day. The tightening of the chest, the way her throat went dry and she clenched her fist by her side from the other end of the black top and tried to stop herself from throwing the basketball in her hands towards the blonde girl's head. It wasn't a feeling Clarisse liked, and the feeling only went away when you were laying in her arms under the tree after school that day.

That warm afternoon, she'd asked you to marry her with a paper ring, one that you cherished for a whole week until it got caught in something and broke. You'd obviously said yes, the fact that you had a huge crush on her not exactly helping as you forced yourself to remember she was obviously kidding. Sealing the marriage with I do and then placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand like she'd seen done in the romantic movies her mother likes watching, you were officially hers. As long as you were her wife, Holly Bracken could no longer kiss your cheek with that ugly smug smile.

She went on to make sure of that, introducing you as her wife to anyone and everyone that was willingly to listen. You two were young, and nobody took it quite seriously until she saved up almost a full year's allowance money to buy you a nice looking- but still cheap- promise ring from the jewelry store downtown. It was a silent promise, one that she eventually voiced as you were sleeping over at her house.

"I'll be with you forever." She'd whispered in your ear, and you foolishly believed her.

She was gone three weeks later.

You didn't get a phone call, an email, or even a letter. She just....disappeared.

Her family stopped answering the door for you, seemingly purposefully avoiding you in town. It was months before you finally gave up, and it was obvious to anyone that looked hard enough you were slowly becoming a shell of yourself without her. Without your girl.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The only thing in your life that is weirder than Clarisse's mysterious disappearance, was the fact that a boy just told you you're a child of one of the Greek gods. You couldn't believe him. You'd learned about the gods in school, but there was no fudging way they were real. You'd only finally agreed to go to some place called Camp Half Blood when he rolled up one of his pant legs to reveal furry goat legs. Nothing will ever be weirder than that.

Just in time too, because right after you left the school building and started sprinting towards the forest across from the place, some giant winged creature that no one else seemed to see crashed through a window and started flying towards you.

Your protector, someone you learned is a satyr named Joey, lead you to camp with minimal death, which you learned is very rare when it comes to leading a demi-god to camp. It didn't help with the newly installed fear inside you, but you just simply nodded along with what he was saying as your eyes scanned the crowds of campers that are doing their own thing below the hill you stand on.

The moment you step past what Joey calls Thalia's tree, all eyes are on you. A new camper means special events so they feel welcome which means more fun for the campers and the drama of figuring out who their godly parent is. 

You don’t have any belongings other than the clothes on your skin and the school pencil that’s brought you a strange sense of comfort on your long trip. A female camper with blonde hair and gray eyes comes up and introduces herself as Annabeth, helping you to the “Hermes” cabin to give you a camp t-shirt and new pants. She explains all the new campers go there, at least until they get claimed, which means the kids in there are either children of Hermes, unclaimed, or new just like you. 

Since everyone is gone doing daily activities, you decide to just change in the cabin. It’s peaceful, the sound of campers laughter, birds in the trees.

Your blissful silence is broken when someone tightly wraps their arms around you from behind you and lifts you up in the air with a squeal, your hands flying to cover your bra-covered chest. “What the hell?!” You scream, but the profanities you were going to yell out die down in your throat when the person sets you down and you turn around to see Clarisse.

She doesn’t look much different, her hair a little bit grown out and her band t-shirts and jeans have been replaced by camouflage pants and an orange camp half blood shirt similar to the one you’re trying to put on. You’re so starstruck that you just stare, her arms still loosely wrapped around your waist as you stand there in only a bra and jeans. “Clar?” She nods, grinning brightly as she pulls you into yet another hug.

You’re much more aware this time, pushing her away harshly as you hurry to put on the shirt and then leave the cabin with a quick roll of your eyes. The curly haired girl is hot on your tail, attempting to grab your wrist to stop you before you pull it away as if she’s burned you. Her face is full of hurt, but your voice shows the same amount as you ask, “Why didn’t….why didn’t you call? Or email? Or-or send me a fucking letter? Just to let me know you were okay? That you came here.”

She sighs, eyes full of regret as they fall to look at her doc martens so she doesn’t have to see your sadness. “I couldn’t call you because a phone call is like sending a message out to any monsters that could be listening and find out where we are. Email, I don’t have any electronics cuz of the whole call thing.”

“And letter? I bet monsters don’t know how to read Clar.” The girl is silent for a minute, and as the silence continues is when you realize she doesn’t have an answer for you. You scoff, beginning to walk to who knows where again before she runs to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was scared. Gods, I was scared.” The worlds tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and the campers around you fall silent as they stare with mouths agape in shock.

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s just me.” She nods, wordlessly reaching out to hold your hand. You let her this time and she feels relief flood through her. “Scared. I was scared….scared that you would hate me for leaving. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her wife?” She attempts a small laugh, and she takes it as a win that the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in the start of a smile. “I promised you forever and then left without another word. You had been looking at me through rose colored glasses our entire lives, I was scared those glasses were shattered. It’s not an excuse though. I should’ve sent you a letter, told you I was okay and told you how much I missed you.”

A small smile works its way onto your face, but she can still see the sadness in your eyes and she hates it. She hates it when you're sad. “Come here angel.” The girl hesitantly pulls you into her arms, almost crying when you relax into her hold and hug her back before she remembers where you guys are and how many campers are staring in shock at how sweet she’s acting.

“You have to understand that I’m still mad Clar. Even if you were scared, I spent years living in fear you were dead.” You mumble against her shoulder as you grip onto her like she’s going to disappear again if you let go.

The girl nods in agreement, cradling your head to her chest as she glares at the campers in an attempt to get them to leave you two alone. They do it.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse brings you to her cabin, cuddling with you in her bed as she tells you anything and everything that has happened over the past. She’s a child of Ares, and you spend several minutes that it makes sense after the amount of times she threatened other kids by saying she should hang them from the top of the flagpole. 

By dinner time, it’s like no time has passed, and everyone’s eyes are on you as you two walk in with her arm casually placed on your around the back of your waist as she leads you to her table where her siblings are trying not to make fun of her. After a lot of begging and threats, Chiron agreed to let you sit at the Ares table for your first week at camp. “Hey guys.” Her happy tone is a rare one around her by the look on their faces, the smile even rarer as she sits you down next to her spot on the bench. “This is my wife.”

The whole room goes silent, all eyes trained on you as your eyes dart up to stare at her. “What are you-” She cuts you off with amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

“What do you want to eat, honey?” Clarisse asks you, and a son of Ares you know as Mark scoffs before he says, “The last time I asked you to get me food, you poured your drink in my lap and told me it wasn’t your job.”

The smile falls from your friend's face as she glares at him. “That’s because it isn’t my job.”

“Then why are you getting her food?” 

“Because a happy wife equals a happy life alright? Now shut the fuck up.”

The smile is back as she turns to face you again, taking your order before she leaves to get that and her own food. 

The rest of the campers go back to their meals, though they’re clearly gossiping about Clarisse’s supposed wife as they eat. It doesn’t make you feel very happy, but all the doubt is gone as your girl comes back and sits down next to you, setting the food down before her hand falls to hold your hand under the table the way she used to during lunch at school.

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A little bit later, you finish eating and join in the group of campers leaving the dining hall towards the campfire with Clarisse walking beside you. “My legs hurt.” You mumble while leaning closer to her. She doesn’t miss a beat as she picks you up bridal style, casually carrying you to the bonfire like you weigh absolutely nothing. Smiling at the sound of your laughter, she sets you down on one of the logs surrounding the fire. “What was that for? I could’ve walked.” You say as she sits down next to you before pulling you into her lap.

“What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around while in pain?” She grins before leaning her head on your shoulder. She seems happy, and you recently learned she hasn’t felt that way in a very long time so you simply smile before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers lace with yours, her thumb caressing the back of your hand as she talks to her brother. It’s like no time has passed. Although you’re still upset, it’s nice to have her again.

Clarisse makes you guys some smores, a few people coming up every once and a while to introduce themselves and your friend introduces you the same way every time; “This is my wife.” By the time you’re making your way to the Hermes cabin with her walking by your side like a bodyguard, everyone in camp is aware of the “marriage”.

“I wish you could come stay in the Ares cabin.” She mumbles into the crook of your neck on the porch of Hermes cabin, and you chuckle while rubbing circles on her back. “I think you annoyed Chiron enough for one day.”

The daughter of Ares sighs, reluctantly nodding as she gives you a gentle squeeze before walking away. You watch her walk to her cabin for a few seconds, a permanent smile on your face before you walk inside your crowded cabin.

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The next morning, it’s time for you to join in the routine of chores and training. It seems tiring, but Clarisse is by your side to help you with anything and everything so it’s okay.

“You’re getting better, hon.” She repeats for the 100th time in an hour, and your trust in her words is slowly fading as you sling the sword in your hands awkwardly towards the dummy covered in greek armor in front of you. The girl seems to notice your mood dropping, so she sighs and then stands up and walks towards you. You think she’s going to tell you to take the armor off just stop trying, but you shouldn't have. Clarisse was never one to tell you to give up on something. Instead, she places her hands on your hips, brown eyes straying from your face as she gently moves your body until you're standing in the correct way. You feel like clay under her grip, simply allowing her to position you as your face scans her features. 

It’s like something pulling you to lean in, and it’s only when you're inches away from her face do you realize she is leaning in too. As if realizing where you are and what you guys are doing, she clears her throat and backs away, her hands following to rest at her sides. “There. Try again.” She begins to awkwardly walk away, her confidence gone as she almost trips over some armor left on the floor by another camper.

You nervously laugh, taking a deep breath before you slash the sword forward again. The sword feels much more natural in your hand, and it’s almost like an instinct as you angle it so it hits the unprotected parts so it cuts open the material. 

Your friend cheers, rushing over to you and easily lifting you off the ground like you just won the olympics. Clarisse has always been that way, proud of every thing  you could ever do. With a small laugh, you thank her and finally get her to set you down. “Well done wifey.” The words flow out of Clarisse’s mouth like they’re the most natural thing, and you fake an annoyed sigh.

“You know I’m not your wife right?” You say with a laugh, but she clearly doesn’t find it very funny.

“Then what's this?” Her hand moves to grab your hand, holding it up in front of your face and you try to ignore the way butterflies explode in your stomach from the touch as her eyes lock on yours. With rose colored cheeks- you decide to blame it on the heat and not the feeling of her hand in yours- you finally take notice of what she’s talking about; the ring she bought you when you were kids, snuggly placed on your left hand ring finger. It was a bit too big when you guys were younger, but it fits basically perfectly now.

“It’s a promise ring.” You mumble, walking away to take off the armor and put away the sword. “It’s the closest thing to a wedding ring I could get. And besides, red is my favorite color, the jem is red. It’s basically me, in a ring.” “I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”

Clarisse sighs, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind the same way she did your first day at camp- though this time she doesn’t lift you up. “Sorry. Let me summarize. You’re my wife, and that is your ring.” You chuckle, turning around in her arms and trying not to think about the way you’re so close you can feel her warm breath on your face. “Fine. I’m your wife.” She takes the win, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before she makes her way out of the training grounds to go wash up for lunch.

This girl is gonna be the death of you.

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That night, Clarisse sneaks into the Hermes cabin. She’s used to sneaking out, but she’s never had a reason to sneak into this specific cabin and she almost bursts out laughing when she gets through the window and almost steps on a kid laying on a sleeping bag on the floor. 

She easily manages her way through the sleeping kids to get to your bunk in the corner, cringing every once and a while when floor boards creek. You’re awake, staring at the wall and you reach under your pillow to grab a dagger Annabeth gave you when someone puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to shake you away so you can hold it up against their neck.

“Why the hell do you have a knife to my throat?” Clarisse quietly squeaks out, and you sigh in relief before putting the weapon back under your pillow for safe keeping. “I just…I’m sorry.” You think about telling her about the nightmare you were having not even ten minutes ago, but it looks like she’s already aware of it as she sends you knowing eyes.

“You can make it up to me by following me.” One look into her pleading eyes is all you need to reluctantly agree, and she helps you out of the window and then onto her back so she can carry you to the surprise she set up in the forest.

The sight makes you want to grin and cry at the same time; it’s a picnic set on the cliff overlooking the waterfall you told her was your favorite part of camp, all your favorite foods from the outside world placed accordingly on the blanket. There are little lanterns placed all over, lighting up this specific part of the woods. You can clearly see the stars, one of your favorite things, and the cozy feeling of the date-like setting goes against the summer breeze of the night.

“So? What do you think?” Clarisse nervously asks as you look around in awe. “I….I love it Clar.” You reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “How’d you get all these foods?” You quest with a grin. She innocently shrugs, but she’s got a mischievous look in her eyes that only appears when she does something bad. She won’t tell you that she snuck out of camp the same way she snuck out of her cabin to go to the mortal world, sneaking back in a throwing herself into a bush when Mr. D almost caught her.

She sits down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her and then pulling you into her lap when you sit down. “This is so nice….but why?” “Why?” “Why’d you do it?”

Clarisse chuckles; “Because my wife deserves best.” There it is again, the phrase that brings a blush to your face no matter how many times you hear it. “Well, thank you.” She nods, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a hesitant bite before humming in satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

You two spend the rest of the night talking and giggling as you cuddle up to her and eat the delicious foods, and by the end of the night you’re lying with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair. “One day,” She starts, leaning down to kiss your forehead before she continues speaking; “I’m gonna marry you for real.”

With a small laugh, you nod, staring into her brown eyes as you sigh. “I’m okay with that.” You whisper, and for a second it seems like she’s leaning down again. It’s proven she is when her lips connect with yours. Her lips are slightly chapped since she always forgets to put on chapstick before she leaves the cabin, but that doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you like she’s been starved for years. Technically, she has been.

She pulls away, watching with a nervous smile as you attempt to catch your breath and stare up at her in awe. “Was that-was that okay?” You slowly nod, sitting up and then turning to face her before you grab her face in your hands and kiss her once again. She seems surprised, but she quickly adapts as her hands move to your hips and firmly grip them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you agreed to be my wife.” She whispers as she pulls away and leans her forehead on your own. You giggle, giving her a quick kiss in between love sick giggles. “Me too.”

She begins to talk again, but the sound of hooves galloping near and a loud voice calling out, “Who's there?!” makes her panic. Chiron. You panic as well, and you both messily pick up the empty plates and blanket, shoving it all in the basket and taking your hand in the one that isn't holding the basket.

The galloping is getting closer, and you both begin to run back into the forest- on the way back to camp but still in the opposite direction of Chiron.

You both begin to laugh as you almost trip over a branch, and you have to bite your lip and hold a hand over Clarrise's mouth so Chiron won't hear. 

You eventually make it back to the cabins, and you both slow down to a light jog as you near the Hermes cabin. She brings you back to the still open window, and helps lift you up into the slightly cold room. You take off your shoes, and are about to wish her a goodnight and go to bed when you turn around to see her lips playfully puckered. 

You chuckle, walking back to the window and giving her a small peck on the lips. “Goodnight Clar. and thank you for a wonderful night.” She smiles. “It was only wonderful because you were there. Goodnight angel.” With that, she leaves towards her own cabin, and you're left staring at her leave with a love sick smile and look in your eyes.

At the edge of the forest, Chiron watches the sweet goodnight with a small smile. “Well I'll be damned….Clarisse La Rue is a softy.” He begins walking to his own cabin with a content sigh. “But they better not sneak out again.”

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[archangeldyke-all]

slow living reader and sev having a baby? 🥹

AWE of course!

also! this is the fifth little blurb for this series so i'm giving it an emoji on my masterlist! 💐 lets do a little bouquet of flowers because i picture a bunch of wildflowers surrounding your garden :)

men and minors dni

sevika doesn't fuck around when it comes to your pregnancy. so while you're used to getting up in the early morning and spending a couple hours on your hands and knees in the garden and hauling wheelbarrows around your property-- the moment you find out you're pregnant, sevika puts you on a ban from all physical activity.

it's ridiculous. you're barely three weeks pregnant, and sevika's insisting on helping you carry a gallon of milk in from the goat pen. just a gallon.

it's sort of nice though. your baby certainly takes after sevika, if it's appetite is anything to go by. while you're usually happy snacking on snap peas and berries from your garden all day until dinner, where you eat a hearty meal cooked by sevika: now you're shoveling half a dozen scrambled eggs down your throat in the morning, eating through a month's worth of cheese and crackers in the afternoon, and snacking on spicy pickles when you can't sleep in the middle of the night.

sevika finds it hilarious. you guys buy a few more ducks to keep up with the rate your house is eating eggs.

as annoying as she is when she's insisting you don't do anything, she does a fairly decent job of handling the garden herself. after a few afternoons of standing over her to supervise as she weeded to make sure she didn't pull any of your crops on accident, she made a little custom set up for you in the garden: a big sun umbrella covering a reclining lawn chair, a battery-powered fan, ice-cold pitcher of water, and big bowl of sunflower seeds waiting for you each afternoon.

it's become your favorite part of the day: lounging and snacking and chatting with your wife while she learns more about the garden, one of your hands on your growing belly, the other reaching out to pull sevika down for a kiss every ten minutes.

the cats start becoming really protective of you. a few of the older mother goats do too-- recognizing that you're pregnant. you never have a moment to yourself once you start showing, there's always a cat or two standing on guard to make sure you're okay while you wander around your home.

what you used to call 'the cats room' is now your baby's. all the cat trees, beds, and toys have migrated to the basement to make room for a bunch of furniture sevika hand-made.

a crib that can transform into a kids' bed when the kid gets older, a dresser that can last a lifetime, a rocking chair and stool for you to nurse in, and a gorgeous bookshelf for you to fill with toys and books for your baby. sevika made it all in at her little woodworking station in the storage shed by the goat's pen. each piece of furniture is inscribed with a message that makes you sob each time you see it, a simple, sweet, 'for our sweet baby.'

you know that once the baby comes, it'll be a few years before you and sevika can fully adjust and get back to growing all your own food. so, you guys start stocking up on produce and meat-slabs from local farms nearby.

you don't make it to the hospital when the baby comes. you planned to deliver in the hospital, you wanted a fucking epidural, but your baby came out of nowhere a week early.

one minute you were laughing at sevika struggling to prune the watermelon vines, the next minute your water was breaking and you were going into labor right on the reclining chair you'd spent a majority of your pregnancy on.

it doesn't take long to realize that you're not going to make it to the hospital. you know something's wrong when you try to stand.

"sevika!" you gasp. she's staring at you like a deer in headlights as she holds you up.

"what, honey, what's wrong?"

"fuck, baby, i think it's coming now." you whine.

sevika sits you back down on the chair, helps you get your bottom half naked, then looks between your legs.

"is it bad?" you start to cry, the pain and adrenaline needing an escape.

sevika's panicked, you can see it in her eyes, but she doesn't let it show as she speaks. "it's exactly what it's supposed to be, baby. but i think you're right. i think you gotta push."

you start to freak out. "sevika! we can't have our baby here! it's the garden, there's dirt everywhere! we don't even have clean towels and fuck!" you growl as a contraction overtakes you. sevika's pressing kisses to your knuckles as you grip her hands. "sevika, you're not a doctor!" you cry.

she chuckles, reaches up to kiss your head, and then kneels between your legs again.

"i delivered the goats when marnie got pregnant a few years ago." she tries.

"i'm not a fucking goat!" you scream.

and then--

little tiny cries fill the garden, and all your pain washes away. sevika looks up from between your legs, grinning and sobbing, and then she stands.

and wiggling and screaming in her arms, umbliical cord still attatched, is your little fucker.

"it's a girl." she whispers, leaning down to pass the baby to you.

you take a shaky breath, and then burst into tears upon seeing your baby. she looks just like sevika. it's uncanny. "she's so fucking beautiful." you cry.

sevika wraps your baby up in her shirt, cuts the cord with the gardening shears, and throws your placenta right on top of the compost pile before she starts guiding the two of you toward the car to take you to the hospital.

you have to keep reminding her to drive-- she'll pull up to a red light and get distracted looking at you and your baby in your arms in the passenger's seat. you get honked at a few times, but you don't mind.

not when she's looking at you like that and you've got her baby in your arms.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

Soft Lucifer

They talk in honesty

A/n: When someone wants to request something, go on!

Eternal Sunshine

Chapter 10 > Epilogue

Saying that Lucifer got over protective is an understatement. He always was at least one feet away from you.

Lucifer created a little goat guardian for you, when he wasn’t there and able to protect you. 

You named her Lammy. 

Lucifer always said that it was a boring name. You should name her Shazam or something similar, which you gladly declined. 

Lammy may be a simple name but it is a cute one for your cute little white-brownish goat. She had two small pairs of fairy wings and a pink bowtie. 

You loved your little Lammy and hugged it 24/7 which made Lucifer a little Jealous. 

When Lucifer was there Lammy wasn't allowed on the bed.

Husk and Angel dust were more than happy that you’re alive. They didn’t even let you move an inch. 

And now you were crouched down to the medicine cabinet, because the pain on your back was too much.

“Luce! Where are the pain killers?” You shouted as you looked in the small medicine cabin, you couldn’t find your medications anymore.

A golden shimmer appeared next to you and Lucifer descended from it. 

“They should be in here Apple pie. Why do you need them?” He asked as he crouched down to your level and helped to find the medications. 

“I have pain on my Shoulder.” The pain was on your shoulder blades reminding you of your missing pairs of wings, with a disappointed sigh you sat down on the red carpet. 

“Is there anything more you want to talk about darling?” Lucifer asked out of worry. Since a couple of days, he watched you closely as you sometimes looked outside with a sad expression on your face. You talked a lot less and sometimes you weren’t listening anymore to him. 

“It’s nothing Important.” That was a half lie. 

Even though you and Lucifer were very close and loved each other dearly, there was still a big elephant in the room. 

What was that with Lilith? 

And the way you thought about your wings, you missed them dearly. Now you know how Maleficent when she lost her wings from her own Lover, except it wasn’t Lucifers fault.

“I can see that you’re lying honey.” He snorted and chuckled and took your soft hands in his black clawed ones. “If you don’t want to share that’s okay. Only when you’re ready.” His voice was smooth like butter and his soft lips kissed your forehead softly. 

You take a deep shaky breath, “When I was in that Playhouse. Azrael showed me something.” Lucifer slit eyes switched onto your shaking hands, no doubt was that a very Traumatic event. 

He held them tight letting you know that he’s there for you and will protect you this time. “What has he shown you?” He asked carefully as he watched your eyes fill with sadness, a feeling that clenched around his heart in a hard force.

“You and Lilith, you two were kissing. Meanwhile I-“ A sob escaped your throat, and you laid your head on his chest. 

A pang of guilt resides in Lucifer as he stroked your back in circular motion. “I am sorry my Apple pie. I really hoped you didn’t see that accident, but I guess it was planned."

"She forced herself on me and right after I took care of her that she’ll never show herself back here. Please believe me.” His face was pressed on your hair and he took a deep breath in.

Well, you believe him. You believe him more than you do Azrael, you don’t even know him. 

Michael was dead, he was killed by his own twin brother Lucifer. 

How Ironic. 

You stayed in Lucifers arms a while until your cries calmed down. “Sorry to ruin your day.” Lucifer shook his head and chuckled, “You haven’t ruined anything! Besides we still have the whole night.” 

You started to blush, and your body started to heat up. 

A spark started to swirl on your back, and you felt something coming out. With a quick motion you grabbed some familiar soft feathers on your back and Lucifer whistled. 

“Seems you got your wings back cutie.” He bit his lips and brushed his clawed fingers softly down your Humerus towards the Manus and your body grew hotter every second. 

“Kinda Hot I gotta admit.”

A/n: I wanted to write smut in here but decided against it.

This is the most Pixelated image I've seen in my whole life. Neitherless a God piece.

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Sadly I couldn't tag you

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[katebisxop]

familiar face | w.m & n.s

summary: wanda finds herself in an unexpected situation.

warnings: wanda is dead here (I REFUSE TO BELIEVE SHE ACTUALLY IS), nicky appearance, kinda angsty but also fluff i guess??, not that well written, i havent watched wandavision and it's been a while since mom so!!

wc: 949

wanda was lost.

all she could remember was sitting on mount wundagore, using her might and magic to cut the castle in half and bring it down upon herself.

the pain was too brief to be registered, and the next thing she knew, she had been transported somewhere.

the place was familiar in a way, but also new. it was dark and empty, no landscape whatsoever. wanda was surrounded by black, as if she had been dropped into a lightless box. she was barefoot, beneath her it felt like cold tiles.

she looked around. there was nothing to see - no people, no sound, not even a reflection.

an anguished cry crawled out of her throat. she was alone once more. she had her brother, then pietro died. she had vision, then he died. she had her sons, and even they were gone also.

no family, no friends, no lovers, and no enemies. wanda maximoff was truly and fully alone.

she fell down on a floor that didn't exist, sobs racking her body as she buried her face in her hands.

wanda sat there for who knew how long, eyes slowly growing puffy and her nose bright red. if this was how she was to spend eternity, wasn't death better? but if this were death - was it a punishment?

"i'm sorry my mother isn't here to take you."

wanda stopped immediately, having heard a child's voice. her head raised slowly from her palms, turning around to lock eyes with a boy barely past childhood.

another stifled cry from her as her hand flew up to cover her mouth in shock. the boy was familiar - too familiar. the soft smile and the way his eyes looked at her with so much kindness. in fact, he looked quite a bit like one of her own sons.

"billy?" wanda whispered, still in shock, hesitant to approach or even move. she had just had an interaction with one of billy's variants before this, and it wasn't at all pleasant.

the boy's head tilted, confused at the unfamiliarity of the name. "i'm afraid i'm not who you think. my name is nicholas."

the scarlet witch exhaled. "do you know where we are, nicholas?"

nicky smiled patiently. "waiting for my mother."

"and- and who is your mother?"

the boy paused, thinking carefully of what to answer next. "rio."

he sat next to wanda, ignoring her little flinch. "do you want to sit down for a while?"

she nodded, appreciating the patience of the small boy. how the tables have turned - she still remembered the amount of patience she had to have while raising her twins.

they sat there for a while, a mother and a son, in comfortable silence. wanda's sniffles gradually ceased, until the place was quiet once again. but this time she felt safe - knowing that she wasn't alone, that she was just waiting (for what, she didn't know), and she had company.

"tell me about yourself, nicholas."

he smiled again, twisting so that he sat facing her, and began relaying his memories to the witch before him. he spoke about the cozy little cottage he used to live in with his mama. he spoke about the wide, grassy green fields; of the townsfolk he visited every week with his mama; of the forest he was so used to and the goat he loved caring for, and the song he and his mama made. 'down, down, down the road, down the witches' road' he sang, giving a little sample.

but wanda caught on to a specific word. "witches?"

"yeah." he didn't elaborate. "my mama made the whol song with me - it started with 'windy road'. i miss her a lot. i haven't seen her since my mother took me away."

wanda's eyebrows knitted together. "who's mother? who's mama?"

"okay. mother is rio. she's who we're waiting for. mama is agatha."

"agatha?" her heart started to fill with dread.

"agatha harkness."

oh. but before she could recoil, a gap opened up in front of her, like a tv screen or perhaps a window.

her view was initially covered by foliage, which then parted to reveal a teenage boy lying on the ground, passed out. his shirt was torn, blood gushing out of a wound. he had curly hair and black eyeliner, but wanda recognized him immediately. not by appearance, no - she couldn't understand who this boy was - but for whatever reason she knew in her heart that this was billy.

wanda's black-tipped fingers pressed to her mouth, eyes filling up once more with unshed tears. then her eyes found agatha, and rage welled up in her until she realized that the other witch, too, had tears in her eyes.

"don't." agatha whispered to a woman clad in green. nicholas pointed at her. "that's who we're waiting for. but i think she's too busy to get you herself."

the image closed and wanda found herself staring at nothing again.

"what?" the scarlet witch breathed out, looking at the boy, confused.

"death," he said, "is also a name my mother goes by."

he stood up, extending his hand. "i'm sorry i can't explain more, too. but i think we should go."

"t-to where?" she accepted his hand and got up too.

but the son of death and agatha harkness only smiled at the scarlet witch. "on."

wanda sent a last look to the spot where the vision had just been. weight she didn't know was there lifted from her heart, for her enemy is now there to protect one of her sons, and her enemy's own now holds her hand. she must return the favor.

and so they walked.

a/n: im not satisfied but i randomly had the vision and had to put it down. might make a headcanon version cuz itll be easier

[drurrito]

Carry You Home

A/N: LISTEN I JUST WANNA SAY I'M SORRY I PROMISE I USUALLY DO HAPPY ENDINGS. IT'S SORTA HAPPY RIGHT?? RIGHT????

Pairings: Natasha x Reader...kinda...

Warnings: Major Character Death (I'm sorry); blood; general angstiness

----------------

Clint stops just before the kitchen, you don’t make a move to acknowledge him until he calls your name.

“She’s here,” he breathes, his fingers tap-tapping against the door frame. You’re already a hair away from him by the time he draws a second breath to ask, “are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m doing this no matter what,” you bite, Clint only nods.

“I’m taking her home,” you push past his frame, and he watches you go for a split second before he’s trailing you all the way to Banner’s office. You’ve made your choice, there’s not much else he can do about it.

Bruce is quick to stop you just before his lab, Sam is there as well and Clint rounds the corner to join them. Their eye contact is brief, doing a piss-poor job of trying to hide their sorrowful looks. Clint already gave them a rundown of what's going to happen. You’re going in alone and leaving with Natasha’s body. You’re taking her home. 

Clint shares a look with Bruce, and he steps aside to let you in. The frigid air hits you hard, you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, taking a deep breath to acclimate to the drop in temperature.

Then you see Natasha. She’s still wearing her suit, tattered and stained with her blood. Her braid is a little messier than usual, but it’s still intact. Her body is incredibly stiff and her eyes…oh god her eyes are open. You steady yourself with a shuddering breath and reach out to graze her cheek with the tips of your fingers.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” you start. Her eyes are dull, it’s like looking into a now empty home that was once full of life and memories. Your throat burns terribly as you delicately brush your fingers over her eyelids. 

“Remember when we talked about what life was going to look like after the Avengers? You wanted a quiet retirement party and I wanted one that was big enough to rival Gatsby,” you laughed. Retirement was the furthest thing from your mind for a long time until Natasha sold you on it one night after a long mission. You would have agreed to anything just by the way her nails danced along your skin that night. 

“I bought your dream home, our dream home,” you whisper, “closed on it just last month,” your fingers try to glide through her hair, catching on knots and dirt. She’ll need a bath before her burial, you note. 

“Nothing grand, I know you wanted something quaint and low-key with a white picket fence,” you choke back a sob, “I already got us a few animals. Some geese, a pig, a black goat named Liho, just like you wanted.”

Natasha always talked about wanting to move somewhere in the countryside. A decent sized cottage. “Cabin,” you would cough and she’d elbow you to stay quiet. A cottage with a lot of land, a barn full of animals that she hand-picked herself, minus the pig and goat you probably begged her to keep at some point. You’d both spend your days taking care of the animals and diving headfirst into hobbies you can only keep up with for about a month or two before deciding maybe you’re the kind of couple who just likes something simple, like puzzles. 

When you came back with the second snap, you were met with a look on Clint’s face that said everything, but you had to ask.

“Where’s Tash?” 

You snap back to reality with a shudder. Your vision now blurry with tears. 

“I’m gonna take you home, Tash,” you suck in a shaky breath. She’s heavy in your arms as you walk through the halls of the compound to take her to her final resting place.

Home.

[katerinaaqu]

Survivor's Guilt and Survivor's Duty (P2)

this is dedicated to @aaronofithaca05 because I believe I read somewhere his birthday was coming? Hehehe Either way this is the second part

Continuation from:

It was only for a brief second that the rays of sun touched his salt-crusted cheek but Odysseus saw or at least he thought he saw a tall slender figure picking something up from the beach many meters away from him (maybe a seashell). The figure turned towards him and walked there. And then everything turned black…

Sweet warm sunlight was embracing him. It was a familiar warmth; as familiar were the smells of grass, land and flocks of goats. He could hear the birds singing, feeling the soil beneath his feet and the grass tops to his fingertips. The warm breeze was caressing his face and softly playing with his hair. He had his eyes closed taking in every detail his eyes could not perceive. He opened them to see the familiar land showered in light. Everything was still there…the hills, the crops…the flocks playing at the rocks…the birds singing amongst the olive trees… Tears overflew his eyes as his heart flattered within his chest. This was better than Elysium… This was home…

“Odysseus!”

The melodic voice came from a distance… Maybe it had come out of his very chest. And yet the familiar voice of the woman he so much longed for made him feel his heart ready to burst in his chest.

“Odysseus!”

There she was…showered in light. She had the strong sunlight at her back so he couldn’t make her features; just her silhouette. However he did not need to see her face to know who she was; that straight and slim body covered with her modest veils softly waving at the evening breeze.

“Penelope!”

It was a half-sob through that whisper; a prayer, a longing scream of the soul. She was standing there, as if to the beginning of a light tunnel. She was holding a small, wrapped up thing in her arms. Oh, he was home!

“Come, Odysseus!” the lulling voice came again

“Penelope…!”

Her name was the only thing he could utter. His throat was clenched by sobs that he wanted so much to let out and was holding them back.

“Come…my love…come…”

He extended his arm towards her offering one.

Light engulfed him…

*

He could hardly feel his surroundings but he gradually gained some level of consciousness enough to start to gain subsequently some essence of feel and touch. He could understand he was lying upon the soft, sweet-smelling surface of a bed. His eyelids seemed to be weighting a ton each as if they were made out of lead. His body felt even heavier than that and he barely could twitch a finger, yet alone move. His throat still hurt and felt dry but he noticed the feeling was infinitely better than the last time he remembered being conscious. He forced himself to open his eyes and again and again till finally he succeeded. At first all he could see was whiteness but after a second his vision half-cleared as he blinked. He noticed he was inside a white room made of stone.    The sunlight was reflecting upon the whiteness of the walls creating a natural almost blinding result. It took him a few extra seconds to realize that he was inside some sort of grotto. The walls, even if they bore no decorations from murals like most palaces did, still looked magnificent and tall, they had nothing to be jealous of the great palaces he saw in his life or even holy Troy herself. There were quite a few pieces of furniture around and tapestries with patterns he didn’t recognize. He tried to raise his neck from the pillow but he realized he found it easier to move the rocks instead. His head seemed nailed to the pillow. He drew out a rusty breath as he scanned the place and only then he noticed a young girl above him fixing his covers, he presumed, with another behind her leaving a tray at a small table somewhere. The maid that fixed him had a scared look on her face. Was he really that much of a dreadful sight? He tried his voice that seemed stuck like the crust of salt that seemed to be gone from his body now.

“Where…where am I…?” he managed to rasp out

The maiden took a few steps back.

“Madam! He’s awake” she called upon someone behind her shoulder

“I can see that” came a melodious deep female voice from somewhere behind

Odysseus weakly looked up to see a magnificent woman. She was tall and slender with dark sun-kissed skin and dark hair carefully arranged in braids adorned with gold and seashells which cascaded down her back like a cape. Her face was heart-shaped and completely clear and pore-less; looking more like the magnificence of marble rather than flesh. Her large almond-eyes had the color of rich honey and her lips were full and shaped like a shell. Odysseus was stunned by her beauty and much more by her soothing voice.

“Who…” he started but his voice betrayed him

The stunning woman smiled almost maternally at him, raising with her richly adorned with gold bracelets and rings a goblet.

“Well, stranger, welcome back to the world of the living! You had us worried there. We believed you wouldn’t make it…”

“Wha…?” Odysseus started but again his throat betrayed him

“There, there, stranger…” the woman repeated maternally, “Come on, drink this…”

She slid her arm behind his back and half-raised him with unexpected strength, bringing the goblet to his lips. As the liquid touched those thirsty, dry lips, Odysseus gained strength anew to his arms; the type of strength you get when you need to survive. He greedily downed sips from the drink and aimed to hold it with his weak, shaking hands. He tasted the sweetest drink he ever thought he would taste; it was sweeter than honey, smoother than wine. It was all the tastes he ever knew and none at the same time. He coughed as the drink went down the wrong way but he drank more ignoring some that escaped his lips and down the thick layer of curly hair that adorned his wide chest. He was thirsty! He was thirsty to the point of madness!

“There…there…” the woman repeated, removing the goblet from his lips, “Easy there, take it easy…”

She handed the goblet to her maid who refilled it and she repeated the action, to which Odysseus responded quite the same way before breathing heavily of exhaustion and be lowered slowly back to his pillows. How weak one can be to feel exhausted by drinking from a cup while being held limb by someone else, he thought!

“Rejoice” said the woman standing to her feet, making her braids and jewels clatter with each other, “That’s Nectar you’re drinking; the drink of the gods. Not many humans have the honor of tasting it. It is the only thing capable of giving your strength back, given the state you were in”

The tormented king of Ithaca took a few more breaths; sucking the oxygen with the same thirst as he had drank the godly drink. However he realized that even though his body was still heavy like metal and his limbs weak he wasn’t in so much pain as he used to or at least as much as he could remember. His wounds were also healing as it seemed for they didn’t sting him anymore like burning coals. His burnt by sun shoulders, back and face no longer stung so badly either. He looked at the divine form once more. Her dark skin was perfectly contrasting the white walls of the grotto.

“Who…who are you…?” he managed to whisper with some effort, “Did I die…and somehow ended up to Elysium to be greeted by divine beings…?”

The girls now giggled as their mistress also chuckled softly.

“No, stranger, you are not dead, not yet; even if as it seems the gods are trying very hard to achieve that! You washed up on my isle to the brief of death. I found you and brought you to my home.”

“Then…” the stunned king began, “…who are you…?”

“I am Calypso” the woman replied with a tone of pride and regal aura, “Daughter to Atlas; immortal Nymph and Goddess Protector of Ogygia.”

“A goddess…” Odysseus repeated like an echo

He tried once more to sit up, this time with some success (which however left him exhausted and rasping for breath again).

“Pray tell me, magnificent lady” he began, “Has…”

He hesitated.

“Has…anyone else washed up to your doors? Alive or dead?”

The hope that was biting his heart wouldn’t leave him in peace; no matter what his brain was signaling would be logical. However Calypso’s half-amused look destroyed all the last bits of that hope before the goddess actually spoke.

“Anyone else? No, darling. Just you and it was already a miracle that you survived this. You washed up at my isle in what seemed like half a step from death. I highly doubt there are more people out there who could survive so.”

Odysseus felt his heart sinking. Yes, he expected that blow but it was a blow nonetheless. He felt his body grow weak again. He was struggling really badly to hold himself awake.

“How…how long was I…?”

He had counted around 9 days out in the sea. He assumed it was probably one more since he had lost consciousness more than once but now time escaped him. Calypso smiled again as her honey eyes reflected the light of the sun through her white cave.

“This is the morning of the fourth day you have been unconscious. My maids and I cleaned your wounds and anointed you with oil so that they would heal faster. We gave you a new change of clothes and tried to give you Nectar in hope from dragging you out of death’s door”

That explained the soft clothes that embraced his tormented body. There was so much he wanted to ask; so much he wanted to say… He made a move to sit up even further but his body shivered as if his arms had lost all their previous strength.

“No…” Calypso whispered melodically, “Too soon. You must keep your strength…”

Her touch felt warm against his chest. His senses swam. That delicate hand held strength beyond his comprehension as she firmly pressed him down and yet it was soft and welcome in his tortured soul.

“Goddess…” he began, “I…”

“Shhh…” Calypso whispered again, “Save your strength…sleep…”

Her voice was lulling…even more enchanting now than the Sirens whose forbidden song he was privileged to hear. His head softly touched the pillow as his sight got out of focus. Calypso’s beautiful face was blurred within his swimming, dizzy mind. Suddenly his body felt light…like falling weightlessly to the abyss. Calypso’s voice came as if from a distance even if she was right there above him.

“Sleep…”

Darkness took over him once more…

*

He was coming in and out of consciousness; that much he could tell, although everything became a blurring mess in his brain. Sometimes in some moments of clarity he could remember where he was; he was in the unknown location of Ogygia, nursed to health by the immoral Calypso…his men all gone…his ship was destroyed… The gloomy thoughts were swimming soon after and he drifted back to a sort of lethargy without beginning or end as if he was falling softly down an unknown hole; softly like a feather that was let go from a bird’s wing. His tormented body finally kept up with the events of the past weeks and soon came the shivers, the tremors, the fever and the dreams. That much Odysseus could remember in those rare moments of clarity that were interrupting his lithe. Body twitching and soaked in sweat, Odysseus the king of Ithaca found himself mumbling incoherent phrases and pledges confusing them with the images that attacked his tortured mind.

“No…ah…no…don’t…there…run…run…”

Twitching arms were moving over the light silky sheets. Twitching fingers grappling the material constantly. Droplets of sweat were always adorning his forehead.

“The wall…the wall…d-don’t…the horse…the horse…oh, gods, mercy…the horse…”

There was fire and screaming; faces of men and women tangled in a mass…there was a whirlpool of water opening up sharp teeth coming for his life. Cries of a baby were being mixed with yelps of pain and screeching of pigs being slain and moans of cows being sacrificed…

“Gods…! Oh, gods…mercy…the horse…the sea…get in…d-don’t…get in…don’t…the horse!”

The material of his shirt was so soaked that was plastered against his chest. He occasionally had to tear the material to be set free; no, he wouldn’t die out there by Poseidon! The material wouldn’t strangle him! Not today!

“No more…ah…gods, mercy…n-no more…! D-Don’t…c-catch it…h-hold it… The horse…gods…in the horse…fire…fire…that voice…gods…gods…make it stop!”

His throat was dry, his chest was clenched by an iron hand.

“No…no…ah…p-please…n-no more…the hair…run…I…I don’t…no…no…”

There was a flash of light and a loud bang then the smell of wine and burning flesh however the source of it he did not know. Then an eye staring at him from the black abyss, crying tears of blood.

“The horse…in the water…gods, mercy…no more…!”

He was falling…softly and slowly but still falling.

“The wall…the horse…in the water…that voice…c-catch…stop…stop the…”

Then there was darkness…

“…No…”

His eyes opened slowly but he was out of focus. There was a dim light around him and whiteness but everything was a blur. He was feeling like burning; both from the outside and the inside. There was a blurry figure at some small distance. His arm extended pleadingly towards it.

“Th-Thirsty…” he whispered as if in a trance, “Please…I’m…thirsty…”

Calypso noticed the movement at the bed and heard the whisper coming so feverishly out of those lips. She saw that wrecked body; those eyes that barely slid open to make a request before falling heavy once more. She smiled.

��Of course…”

She stood up and went to the table, pouring liquid in a goblet. However instead of doing what she did initially she drank deeply from it and leaned down. Her lips covered those burning ones. Odysseus felt the taste of water and honey in his tongue. His throat moved spasmodically and desperately to accept the sweet liquid. The softness of flesh against his lips…the taste of honey on his tongue… Penelope… Only she had breath that smelled of honey… Crusty honey cakes were her favorite snack. She was munching them all the time when she was pregnant to their sweet Telemachus and so her breath always tasted honey and sesame; her body smelt fine olive oil… Those lips desperately moved. Finally he was home… Penelope… His lips softly massaged those soft ones and moved harmoniously to the movement of response he felt. Oh, the longing! The sheer happiness! His lips tasted her again and again, hoping that his strength would come back; that his weak arm and hand that rose to touch that soft cheek would allow him to TRULY embrace her… He wanted to explore further…he wanted to taste more…however his body was sinking anew. Tears escaped his eyes, running and getting lost within his raven curly hair… Just a bit longer…oh, gods, have mercy…let me stay a bit longer… As that head sank down to the pillows, his mouth left hers and he drifted back to a deep sleep. Calypso felt their lips separate and pulled back to look at the sleeping form of the mortal man that washed up so unexpectedly to her isle. She touched her lips with her thumb in comprehension. She could still feel his lips on hers. What a weird sensation!

“Who are you, stranger…?” she thought with a curious smile, “…and you kiss so passionately…?”

Calypso tasted her lips in apprehension and a smirk rose to her face. She was definitely curious now. She leaned over that sleeping form. Her face was inches apart from his. The man beneath her was a mere mortal; he was barely average of height but of amazing physical structure, even though he had obviously lost weight from all the hardships he had to face. He seemed long past the age of his youth but that air of maturity in combination to the hardened features from life and sea gave him a special charm. That raven hair like ram’s fleece and the bushy beard gave him some wild beauty despite the fact that his features were not particularly handsome compared to gods and immortal nymphs. She landed her lips on top his head and between his brows and once more landed on those dry from sea lips, hoping to get that reaction again however Odysseus was so far under his sleep that he didn’t move anymore.

“Who were you thinking of…?” she whispered again, “What secrets do you hide…?”

Her smooth hand soothed that bushy chest and felt the fleece that covered it, feeling the hard muscles beneath. Her hand stopped to feel some tiny scar here and there; obviously reminders of war. The arms and legs obviously belonged to a warrior, a craftsman and a sailor…soft scars that could be done by nothing else but hunting knives and animal teeth could be seen in his fingers. Blisters found at his palms could be done by nothing else but sword shield and bow with arrows. The little hardened skin to his shoulders could be done by nothing else but armor. When she and her maidens were firstly nursing him back to health she noticed a distinct scar to his upper thigh (obviously some animal) and a scar to his abdomen (clearly a reminiscent of a spear). This man was no ordinary man. Calypso slowly rose herself off that sleeping form.

“Well, well, well…” she whispered, “Man with many talents…we shall see what the future holds…”

She caressed his hair gently and took two curly hairs from his head; one jet black and one silver for he had plenty that had started emerging from his obsidian mane like the first thunderbolts in the dark sky.

*

The light was warm; it was playing tricks between the leaves of the perennial olive trees that intertwined together to form the leg of his beloved bed; the wedding bed he had built with his own hands. And there, there was the familiar corridor of his palace; which he had walked up and down ever since he could remember. It seemed that everything was showered in yellow sunlight. He recognized every corner; every piece of marble, every mural in every wall. It was home; a humble yet perfect for him home.

“Odysseus!”

He turned around. There she was in all her beauty; Penelope, his wife and love approached him and hugged his arm. Her veils were already covering her hair as always when she came out of the chamber. Odysseus looked at her stupefied.

“Penelope?”

“Dear, oh, dear!” Penelope claimed playfully, “There you are! It was about time you came! You’re going to miss the celebration, darling, and it wouldn’t be appropriate, given that you are the honoring person!”

“Penelope?” Odysseus question again, “How…? I mean…when…?”

The love of his life, looking young and fresh like the day he left her for war chuckled in her usual crystal way that opened his heard like a rose.

“My, my! When you drink you don’t know what you’re saying!”

“But…I don’t…!”

The pull in his arm made him stagger forward.

“Well, come on then! You’ll miss the celebrations!”

“Hold on, a second, Penelope… What celebration?”

She chuckled again. Odysseus could swear he could hear that forever.

“But for the anniversary of taking Troy, of course! It was a year ago since the day you came back to us with the joyful news!”

“I’m…home…? I came…back…”

“Well come on! Your son has been preparing for this celebration for weeks! You don’t want to miss his performance now, do you?”

“Father!”

It was a distant voice Odysseus did not recognize. He looked forward towards the entrance that was showered in light. It almost seemed like Helios Hyperion was right outside his door, showering everywhere in light. There at the entrance he saw the silhouette of a young boy, with his arm above his head weaving at him.

“Father!”

“Telemachus!” Odysseus’s voice chocked into his throat

How much had he grown! He was almost a proper young man! The boy’s lean silhouette was still there. Odysseus cried tears of joy. There was a distant song coming from somewhere afar. He didn’t know that melody. There was also the rhythmical sound of someone weaving.

“Father! Come father! Come!”

It was as if an invisible hook was tied at his stomach for suddenly he was pulled towards the light. And then he was engulfed in white…

*

Odysseus opened his onyx eyes only to find himself to the familiar, now, environment of Calypso’s grotto. There were no more tapestries he knew or halls he had almost built brick by brick but the known white grotto. At the corner there was Calypso. She was humming some melody, moving to and fro. He remembered that song from his vague dream. That voice that could possibly be rivaling the Muses and the Sirens seemed like ringing like a bell in his brain. He work was considered of fine golden thread and patterns Odysseus did not recognize. Her fingers were moving swiftly and yet softly with a dexterity only an immortal goddess could have. For a moment he felt dizzy again but he realized it was much better than he thought. His body was still weak but in an infinitely better condition. His hand cupped his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He was feeling lost. Everything seemed exactly as he had left them before he lost consciousness.

“Forgive me, goddess…” he mumbled, “I fell asleep in the middle of our conversation…”

Calypso halted her movements and turned around to face him. Her shell-like lips formed a smile.

“It is quite a forgivable sin, darling” she replied airily, “Besides what’s a few days before eternity? It all passes like a breath”

“A few day-…?!” Odysseus was astounded, “Why, how long was I…?”

“Around a week this time, my darling.

“A whole week?!”

Calypso chuckled.

“And you gave quite the scare to my poor maids as well. They told me you torn the royal clothes they put on you twice and got alarmed by your voice as they thought you were going under again”

“I was talking in my sleep?”

“You don’t know half of it!” Calypso teased him, “You were mentioning a name quite often though when your phrases could make some sense… I believe it sounded like… ‘Penelope’…?”

Odysseus lowered his eyes in shame. It was already embarrassing enough that he was weaker than a baby and that he had these gorgeous women take care of his basic needs as he was unconscious and to hear he was sleep-talking as well but now that his wife’s name came out in the light he felt exposed.

“She’s my wife…” he finally admitted

Was that a shadow of jealousy that he saw passing flashily before her face like a tiny cloud momentarily shadowing the sun? Maybe he had imagined it, he thought, for her face returned to her previous calm state.

“I see…” Calypso whispered, “That explains a lot actually.”

“What?”

“It must have been her you were thinking of, when you kissed me”

All color left Odysseus’s face. He had no recollection of that event but the way Calypso said it, it sounded true!

“Gods! Forgive me goddess I shouldn’t have done that…!” he rushed to explain

Calypso, though, laughed.

“No need to worry too much, darling. Actually…I quite enjoyed it.”

Odysseus looked at her. His face almost looked like a hurt animal; like the fox that got out of his den to find a hound staring at him.

“You’re the first mortal to kiss me, actually” Calypso continued, “You took me by surprise but I don’t think ill of it”

“P-Please don’t take it the wrong way, goddess…” Odysseus tried to collect himself

His usual eloquent nature was once more gone; somehow lost in the sea and in the dreams; in the song and the spinning wheel.

“I…I was not myself. I shouldn’t have done that”

Calypso smirked again. Odysseus thought he had seen that smile before; a cat before attacking a rabbit at the fields of Ithaca. However her honey eyes shone wholeheartedly.

“Like I said, my dear guest, I quite enjoyed it. You seem to be a man of many talents… Even if…”

Odysseus’s heart clenched once more. The last thing he wanted was to see the bad side of yet another god.

“…you seem to have quite the nerve. You almost seem like you want to insult me by having me at your presence and admitting you mistakenly kissed me, thinking of some mortal woman!”

“I’ve had enough of offending gods for a lifetime, fair Calypso…” Odysseus mumbled fixing himself better in his bed

“Is that so…?” Calypso’s eyes shone again mischievously as she scanned him again, “I think it’s time you revealed who you are, stranger. What is your name? Which is your native land? Answer me truthfully, though. Gods can know when you are lying”

Odysseus lowered his eyes to his lap. Yes, his first instinct would be to conceal himself. He didn’t know what this goddess would think of him but she had saved his life after all. The very least he owed her was honesty and, if anything, indeed the gods often read the mortal soul like an open book.

“Odysseus…of Ithaca” Odysseus mumbled

“Ho?” Calypso brought her hand to her chin amused, “Is that so? Your reputation precedes you, Odysseus son of Laërtes, Man of Many Ways, the Man of Experience, Godly and Equal to Gods, Sacker of Cities… That’s a pretty long string of titles for a mortal! I am impressed. Although I must say that you have created quite a mess for the gods. Poseidon is crossed with you and won’t rest till he sees your destruction after you blinded his son.”

Odysseus lowered his eyes. There was so much he wanted to say and defend himself but as always his past wouldn’t let him… Troy, Polyphemus, the cows of Helios Hyperion… As if noticing his inner battle Calypso smiled softly. She placed a hand under Odysseus’s chin, making her look at her in the eyes. For a moment his eyes god lost inside her honey pools that reflected the sunlight.

“Don’t worry, Odysseus. You are safe here with me. No god would dare to come to my territory unprovoked. They have no reason to come and seek you here. You will be safe…”

Safe… That was a word the tormented king of Ithaca couldn’t really contemplate… However the closeness with the goddess made him feel uncomfortable. There was something in the back of his head that felt wrong but he didn’t even know why or he wouldn’t dare to offend her. He pretended feeling dizzy again and he leaned back to avoid her touch. Calypso smiled and got up.

“My maids shall bring you some food, Odysseus. I believe you are strong enough to eat now. Nectar and potions we created should allow you to heal to that point”

“I am grateful, beautiful goddess…”

“Rest and regain your strength first” Calypso advised sweetly, “The rest shall come…”

*

The weeks passed and Odysseus was indeed trying his best to keep himself in good condition. A few days more and he could walk about Calypso’s grotto without any problems and soon he felt gaining his old strength back. Eventually he got out of the grotto and got to explore the isle around and know his surroundings. Under the tender care of Calypso and her maids, Odysseus felt like finding himself again. He gained the weight he lost by his cruel misadventures and managed to built his previous physical strength. He could still have an ominous feeling pressing over his chest and more often whatnot he would wake up from his dreams because he would hear a mystical song or someone weaving but he brushed it off. Calypso on the other hand could not help herself feeling more and more for this mortal man that showed up at her door. She would get a glimpse of him diving into the waters of her isle to gather mollusks and shells. Others with similar experiences might not even want to be near the sea but not Odysseus. Odysseus was different. She was observing him from afar and hoped to join with him. The curiosity of how humans made love already excited her yet alone now that this man had showed up at her door; a man whose wits seemed to rival the gods. She wondered if that was what made this king attractive in her eyes or maybe his mortal nature; this ephemeral essence of human existence that would disappear one day. She hoped to get closer…much closer to him. However that seemed impossible. Odysseus seemed to be like a fort; closed behind walls he built around his heart. During their countless conversations they would speak on a variety of subjects but every time she asked him about himself and his emotions he would grow distant from her. He closed up like a clamp and refused to elaborate. It frustrated her that she could not get a way to his heart; console his pain and maybe provide a missing piece. It was the first time the immortal goddess had discovered someone as lonely as she was feeling. She looked down at the end of the valley and saw Odysseus. He was shirtless from the waist and above and was chopping some wood for the grotto. It was good for him to have some work to distract himself, or so he had said. Quite frankly Calypso could stare forever. She felt incredibly jealous of Penelope, the woman that had so much influence on him without even being there! If only she had a way to his heart! She looked at her work; her tapestry of gold thread…she looked at the tiny black and the tiny silver hairs that were incorporated to the sea of crimson and gold. She smiled apprehensively. Odysseus was cunning but so could she.  

Odysseus walked back into the chamber, wiping the sweat off his body with his shirt. He entered the chamber only to see the maids of Calypso, the nymphs he had learnt by name by now, waiting for him.

“What is it, Ipomea?” he asked the girl who came first to him

“My lord…” the nymph replied respectfully (although the giggles behind her surely didn’t help her), “My mistress requires your presence at the pavilion”

“The goddess? Whatever for?”

“If it pleases you, my lord, we have prepared your bath, aromatic oils and my mistress arranged your clothes for you.”

“My, my, it sounds important!” Odysseus smiled, “Well…it’s not proper to let the good goddess wait then…”

He entered the tub that was filled with water to the temperature he liked and let himself to the hands of the maids who washed him from top to bottom helped him dry himself and anointed his body with aromatic oils. They dressed him in fine crimson that night that slithered across his body like water. They brushed his hair and trimmed his beard, tied a goldthread headband around his head and wore golden sandals to his feet. Yes, Calypso did that a lot; she was picking clothes for him and making sure he didn’t want of anything but yet some part of his soul was always ringing a bell; resisting as if by instinct. Dressed up at the godly clothes made by Calypso, Odysseus walked about the grotto to climb to the pavilion. The pavilion was basically a small half-closed terrace; an opening to the cave, which allowed Calypso to lay upon her bench and stare to the openness of the sea. He was summoned there before but never so late in the evening. He wondered what it was all about. He reached the dimly lit pavilion and he stopped in amazement. Calypso was already there lying on her couch lazily. She was dressed in a magnificent garment; a cloth to the color of amber that was bringing out her complexion and her honey eyes. Her braided hair was adorned with gold and pearls and neatly arranged. Odysseus could smell her aromatic oils even from the entrance. Calypso was very careful when she chose that dress. She wanted something to let out her beauty without making it too obviously provoking. She knew that Odysseus would be too clever to fall for such a trick. Sensing his presence she smiled.

“Odysseus! I am so glad you came!” she said in her low, melodic voice

Odysseus scanned the pavilion. There were torches to light it and some candles. There was a second bench waiting undoubtedly for himself and in the middle he saw the large gold-pleated crater that was already being stirred by the nymphs. Calypso had chosen the best godly wine in her cellar and she made sure she gave clear instructions to her maids to keep the analogy 3 to 1 so that the godly drink would be strong and savory.

“Come, sit with me, darling,” she said pointing at the other bench with her bracelet-adorned hand, “there is wine and dinner waiting”

Odysseus smiled.

“Goddess…” he returned her greeting with a bow of his head, “What’s the occasion?”

Calypso smiled a cat-like smile.

“But you returning back to health, of course” she replied with winged words, “I can tell by the way you prance about my grotto that you have finally reached your original strength”

“I have” Odysseus confirmed kneeling by her bench, he took her hand in his, “And it’s all thanks to you, goddess…”

He gratefully kissed her hand. Calypso shivered as those lips touched her immortal flesh. Oh, she adored him! She wanted to explore more of him! However she knew she had to be patient if she wanted Odysseus to become hers. She drew her hand back chuckling.

“Now, now, Odysseus!” she said airily, “Let us not get stuck in such…trifles! Let us just enjoy this night that is so beautiful. Let us not worry of yesterday or tomorrow”

“Couldn’t agree more, goddess” Odysseus smiled taking his place to the bench right opposite her.

Calypso smiled.

“Wine?”

“If you please…”

Calypso signaled at her maid to serve from the crater the ruby liquid. Odysseus brought it to his lips and tasted the rich taste of the drink.

“This wine belongs to the best year of my isle. My land is as you know rich. We do not want of anything here…” she looked at him again, scanning him with her eyes, “What do you think…?”

“Exquisite…”

Calypso raised her cup in a toast.

“To life then!”

“To life”

The two of them sat at the pavilion all evening talking on various subjects. Odysseus told her about the airs of the Aegean and the lands he met on his way to Troy, the mountains of Parnassus and the crops, the ships and warfare, circle of seasons and many more while Calypso talked about the stars and the sky, the secrets of the cycle of epochs and the song of the birds of Ogygia. The hours passed without Odysseus realizing it. Calypso had given clear orders to her maids to make sure that Odysseus’s cup would never empty and every time he would try and refuse she would try to lure him with yet another toast or some small talk for distraction. She knew however that he wouldn’t really refuse if she asked. She had come to know he was afraid to displease her. She had invited him there and he felt it was his duty to obey her requests. He wouldn’t refuse her out of fear that he would offend her. She watched him sip the red liquid away and his cheeks flare from the alcoholic beverage and his eyes shine in inebriation and yet his defenses were still strong for he refused to open up every time Calypso would try to sneak in a more personal question. He might still discuss different matters and laugh every time a maid mentioned something but she could tell he was still hiding many things inside him. Calypso knew she had to be careful. She was absolutely certain that Odysseus despite the fact that the wine was making his speech slower and his reactions more lethargic, that he could understand perfectly well what was going on and that he would be perfectly cognitive. She had to advance softly if she needed him to open up. She needed an opportunity. And she found it. At some point as Odysseus was pretty much completely drunk she realized that shadow of melancholy passing from his eyes. Yes, she knew that look. It was the look he got every time he lost himself in deep thought.

“Odysseus…?” she called at him in her melodic singing voice, “Odysseus…?”

“Hm?”

“Do you find my company that unpleasant, Odysseus?”

Odysseus looked at her. She saw those eyes, those eyes that resembled obsidian, looking at her and she felt almost weak in her legs.

“No, goddess…” he eventually replied sluggishly

“Then why do you look so gloom?” Calypso questioned, “I am here to entertain you; so we can celebrate your recovery back to health and you sit there looking sad. Please talk to me, what’s wrong…?”

“G-Goddes…”

“Don’t you trust me, Odysseus…?”

Odysseus froze.

“I…”

Such an easy question and such a difficult answer it would need! Odysseus tried to find the proper words and force that stupid tongue of his that had turned sluggish in his mouth and explain. However the dizziness wouldn’t let him to concentrate. Perhaps he shouldn’t have drunk so much! Calypso, on the other hand, could almost feel his head wheels running, cornered by her direct question.

“Please, Odysseus…” she said in a mellow tone, “Open up to me, darling. I want to help you…”

Just a bit more, she thought, just a little more. She looked at him again; how he was gazing her with those eyes glistering from unshed tears and wine. For one second she wondered that maybe he was too drunk and that she should have stopped earlier but she dismissed the thought. Only in the condition he was now he would be able to drop his defenses and finally trust her even for a little bit.

“Talk to me, Odysseus…”

And, finally, Odysseus talked. He could not contain his emotions any longer as he spoke to her of his experiences; of how he faced contempt in Troy, of how they were captured by Polyphemus, of the agony of the trip…how he saw his mother in the underworld who told him she died of grief…how his son waited in Ithaca; the son he never saw to grow and finally the brutal deaths of his comrades… And then she saw the man break...there she saw him come undone... He talked and tears were flowing from his eyes like rivers, wetting the cloth he wore and he seemed inconsolable till he managed to muster some of his self-control and try to stop. Calypso slowly got up and sat beside him. He clearly was in no state to walk.

“My darling…” she whispered maternally embracing him

She kissed his head and forehead and she pulled him closer, letting him lean his head to her bosom. She rocked him softly.

“My poor tormented darling…”

She realized that he was probably at his limit so she signaled at her maid with her eyebrows not to refill his cup, which she placed aside. Odysseus was feeling his lips tingling; his stomach was upset and his head was turning like a top and yet that soft embrace seemed to be soothing him. His head was heavy as he leaned to her chest, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“G-Goddess…I…” he mumbled

Calypso leaned over to his ear and she whispered in a tone that rang to his mind like a silent bell.

“Shall we go, my darling…?” Calypso whispered directly in his ear, “Shall we go to bed…?”

He shook his head. It wasn’t a yes and it wasn’t a no. He was completely inebriated. Calypso passed one arm behind his waist and she raised them all up with unexplainable strength. Odysseus was led almost completely limb in her arm towards the chamber and it made him realize for one more time he difference between gods and mortals; Calypso’s body that looked fragile and feminine held strength enough to crush him if she wanted to. And yet she was being gentle with him…she had saved his life. This detail shouldn’t be concerning him, right? As Calypso led him and helped him lie down the bed his eyes truly couldn’t remain open. He closed them feeling the world spinning around him like a top. He fathomed he should sleep. His head was feeling heavy.. Calypso watched him and for a second she was tempted to kiss him; taste those lips of his. However she was almost certain that Odysseus would remember everything of that night. She didn’t want to ruin her opportunity. She smiled like a spider watching her web.

‘Soon, my love…soon you will forget those sorrows…here with me…”

~~~~

So here's the second part of this story and Odysseus beached in Ogygia with his life and yet things are about to be difficult for him. Now the reason I chose Calypso to have dark complexion was mainly because I was enamoured with The Odyssey (1997) and I thought it would be a fun idea to explore. Her house in Ogygia in my story is at Gozo in Malta.

Now for Odysseus's visions I was inspired by the amazing soundtrack from "The Perfume"

I was also heavily inspired by Gladiator movie for them.

I figured Odysseus would be incredibly weak for days after his ordeal. And I tried to add some more details to make it look more like Calypso fell for him.

Odysseus fell ill because when he finally relaxed, all his anxiety was basically striking his body mercilessly. Now his mumbles were not supposed to make any sense and they were random based on his adventures. Now if someone wants to make something out of them, the most infamous horse he is related to is the Trojan horse but also the horse is a symbol of Poseidon so maybe just maybe it refers to Poseidon as well hahahaha!

He tears his clothes because in his delirioum when the clothes plaster on him, he feels as if he is back at the sea struggling alone

The "honey crackers" exist in Greece even today and they are called παστέλι (pasteli). It is a savory snack made of sesame seeds and honey. Sesame existed as crop in Greece since homeric times. Which is why I put it here. Quite frankly I am not sure if it was a thing in bronze age when Odysseus lived but hey if Homer can use anachronism so can I! Hahahahaha

Also suspicious suspicious that Odysseus seems to be healling "happy" in the island hahahaha! That is because some people interpret Calypso weaving and singing while moving to and fro as her enchanting him. In my story he is basically subtly enchanted to "forget" some parts of his sorrow to stay and heal. Calypso thought she could bind him but his will is stronger so her magic only reaches a superficial level.

In this I wanted Odysseus to suffer fates that he imposed to his enemies or were imposed to his friends and he was spared for example lethe (Lotus Eaters) drunkeness (Polyphemus)etc.

For Calypso I was inspired by a spider spinning a web.

I hope the last part will come soon!

As always I shall thanks @loco-bird @tunguszka20 @ditoob @jarondont @prompted-wordsmith @simugeuge @ilov3b00kss0much @fangirlofallthefanthings

[panickingpansexuality]

Mommy Issues

Your mother comes to visit you

Warning this story contains a not wonderful reunion with a toxic parent

For five years you have been no contact with your mother and everyday that her words didn't dig into you was another day that you were healing.

Elliott and you were at the Saloon sharing a drink in celebration of him coming home from a second book tour. He was working on another novel but was having trouble finding a good antagonist, luckily for him and ill fortunated of, you fate was just about to deliver one.

The door to the Saloon opened and your entire body went rigid.

"Ellie.." you whisper out. "We gotta go."

Elliott doesn't ask questions, the woman's back is turned to you two as she chats up Gus, quickly you two make it for the door and out into the night.

"Who is that?" He asks as you two speed walk home.

"My mother.." you say your heart clenching in your chest. "I can't believe she's here."

Elliott knew the relationship with your mother wasn't one to write home about, he knew that she had ripped your heart out with her narcissistic personality and you had fought hard to get away from her.

"Breathe my darling." Elliott said grabbing your hand

You went through your breathing exercises feeling the bile rise up in your throat. A thousand questions ran through your head as you wondered why she was here. Why now? Who had told her you were here? Dad?

You didn't remember the walk home, the feeling of Elliott holding your hand and controlling your uneven breaths were all you could register.

The lights were out, Elliot's body held yours as a form of sensory seeking.

"I hope she doesn't find the farm." You say quietly

Elliott stayed up with you until two when you both went to bed.

The next morning there was a knock on your door around ten. You went to answer it, Elliott was in the barn with Bubba the pig. Which left you alone with the woman you hated the most.

"Mother." You said.

"Hello (y/n), my darling. Stand up straight will you? Is this your home?" You stepped back as she let herself in.

"My, have you only just moved in? It looks like it needs a lot of work."

"We do ask." Elliott said from the doorway, "that guests take off their shoes before entering."

"Who's this?" Your mother asks taking a seat the table.

"My husband." You say tightly.

She looks Elliott up and down like a stain in the carpet, then turns to you.

"Well, I suppose that he's your type, though I think that he could do a little better."

"Do not speak about my partner like that." Elliott says coldly.

"Oh are you still in with that gender nonsense?" Your mother asks you. "Seriously darling, you're a perfect girl I see no reason to-"

"They," Elliott says tightly "are a perfect person and I think it's time you leave." Elliott says, "I spent four years chasing after that human. Four years of hoping and praying that I would get a single date and Yoba granted me with a partner more perfect than nature itself."

Your mother leaned back in the chair and looked him up and down.

"I came all this way and you're going to tell me to leave my daughter?"

"You came all this way to ridicule your child and I'm telling you that I will not stand by and have you rip away what they've been trying to heal for the last five years! Now you can either walk out or I can have our trusty goat kick you out."

"You let a goat into your house no wonder it's so-"

"Taylor!" Elliott yells outside, with a quick a high pitched whistle your goat jumps the stone fence and runs up past your dog and into the house.

The goat belts innocently at you, with a quick wag of it's tail it looks at the stranger and goes behind the chair she's sitting in.

The goat headbutts the chair and the woman stumbles out of it, she screeches as the goat and pulls the hem of your mother's skirt. She screams and runs out of the house cursing you both.

You run to the door and yell;

"Fuck off with you and your curses you hateful cunt!"

Elliott laughs and Taylor the goat belts after her, then innocently leaves the house and goes for the berry bush for a well deserved treat.

"Are you alright?" Elliott asks you.

You sigh and lean against the doorway, heart pounding, shaking your head you wordlessly allow Elliott to hold you in his arms.

"I froze up..thank you so much for standing up for me."

Elliott shakes kisses the top of your head, his arms like a weight holding you to reality that you're safe.

"I will always do what I can for you, please don't thank me for doing the bare minimum."

"Elliott, it isn't the bare minimum to me..its more than I could ever dream of someone doing for me."

Elliott sighs, a knot in his chest forming at how such a little basic action means the world to you, he feels good that he made you feel good but he hates how it was through him doing something anyone should do for you.

Your husband is almost startled when suddenly you pull away and place a sensual kiss to his lips, his arms coming to your ribcage to hold you close, a small groan escaping him as you kiss.

Someday you'll realize that someone who loves you should do more than the bare minimum for you and your confidence will truly thrive then and he can't wait to grow with you through that.

[oceansssblue]

OK SO. RAREPAIR. MY GOAT. Ventress x Hunter!! I love this ship so much he spread his legs to her

If possible, can you make it t4t? Trans woman Asajj and Trans man Hunter? 👉👈

Can be smut! They are so hot together hehe

Soooo... let the rare pairings begin ✨

Hope it was what u wanted!

"NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING"

– ASAJJ VENTRESS/HUNTER 🔥

WARNINGS: TRANS ASAJJ, TRANS HUNTER, EXPLICIT SEX (DIRTY TALK, BIG DICK)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"This is not what I was expecting when you agreed to come with me" Ventress retorts, voice full of sarcasm, while Hunter tries to catch his breath in front of her.

The leader of Clone Force 99 had been worried sick about the ex-sith's revelation about Omega. She had offered to train her; just enough to grasp a sliver of control of the Force. Just enough to hide herself, to remain unnoticed. Not that the Empire would stop looking after her –not when they already knew the truth–; but at least, her life sign wouldn't be screaming "force sensitive" for those physically around the girl. Hunter had inmediately shot down the idea unless he was allowed to tag along; and Asajj had reluctantly accepted.

Why did she want to help the girl? Well, Ventress knew everything about people wanting to take advantange of a helpless child; about being an expensable pawn in another's game, about families ripped apart. Plus, the Empire would find her someday too, no matter how hard she had been working to blend with the shadows. And for the Empire to be destroyed, there had to be enough force-sensitives –ex-siths, ex-jedis, new force users, it didn't really matter– alive. Asajj doubted the Empire could be defeated without them.

That didn't mean Ventress was chirpy about it. Hapiness just didn't seem to be in her vocabulary; in her range of emotions. Amused, entertained, not sad neither angry? Yes. But never plainly happy. It was just her personality; shaped after a whole life of teachings on dark arts and sith stories.

Surprisignly, her two new companions hadn't been as irritating as she had expected them to be. The kid's bubbly excitement could be tiring after a whole day of social interactions; and Hunter's initial side glances of waryness had gotten on her nerves at first. But the girl had learned when to give her space –it wasn't a difficult task, considering Asajj's sharp tongue– and Hunter... Ah, Hunter had been a very curious development.

Ventress had grown to... Well, perhaps like was too strong of a word, but it admitedly went further than tolerate. The clone was loyal and brave –but not the silly kind of bravery–; measured, always aware of his surroundings, perceptive and plainly hot. That definitely helped. There was a sort of primal, raw and masculine attraction going on for Hunter; and yet he was still surprisignly pretty. Perhaps it was the long hair or the sweet brown eyes; perhaps that narrow waist Asajj had eyed more than once.

No matter how curiously attracted she felt for him, though, Ventress never thought it would end like this; that he would be the one to grow a pair and kiss her. And oh, what a heated kiss it had been. Hunter was still panting in front of her, eyes flickering over her face while he tried to catch up his breath. Ventress had heard him moan low in his throat; felt the shiver spreading through his body when she had all but cuped his ass and grounded against him, letting him feel her bulge. The wide-eyed, confused but excited look on the clone's face had been nothing short of precious.

Ventress walked backwards –eyes never leaving Hunter's– and layed down on the matress of her ship; posture relaxed and tempting. Hunter seemed to be devouring her from his spot against the wall.

"I'm not complaining, though" she finally continued, making a tiny gesture with her head while she added in a sultry voice "Come here and take a sit on my lap, little clone".

Hunter's cheeks flushed a deep red. He hadn't seen this happening either. But he couldn't deny the way his heartbeat sped up when Ventress stepped close to him; or when she hissed a few words as an answer. Because that's how the woman spoke; in sharp hisses and confident whispers. Everything in Asajj screamed power; and that made Hunter's knees weak.

Hunter has always been a confident person himself; used to leading his squad and carrying the weight of decisions and responsabilities. He doesn't really understand then, why he gets so damn shy around Ventress; why his feet shuffle as if he's unsure to move forward. He wants to. He wants her. Why then does he feel so... afraid?

The woman observes him from the bed. It makes Hunter more nervous, but the arch of her eyebrow finally pushes him into action, and Hunter quickly jumps into the matress, one knee going over Ventress's hips and settling almost stubbornly on top of her. He's a sargeant. He has led his team into battle more times than he can count and survived to tell the story. It's just sex with... Ventress.

Ventress, who has a very well-endowed cock by the feeling of it and chuckles at Hunter's obvious reaction; a small whimper escaping his lips while he nervously adjusts on top of her.

The woman's long nails take hold of Hunter's own hips; keeping him in place.

Once again, she smirks.

"Like what you feel?" She asks, though it's nothing more than an observation at this point, really.

Hunter blushes and glances off to the side. Ventress chuckles and grabs his chin; forcing him to look at her.

"For a sargeant, you're surprisingly shy in bed" she points out, smile wide as a lothcat's. "Don't worry, little clone, we can just stick to kissing for a bit".

There's a sort of sarcasm to her voice; but Hunter seizes the oportunity to do something he wants and escape the weight of her stare and dips down to press his lips on hers. Asajj makes a tiny surprised sound, body tensing and coiling like a snake; then chuckles low in her throat and tugs him forward, deepening the kiss. She's rough, teeth nipping his lower lip, all-consuming; and Hunter quickly gets lost in it. His body heatens up; warmth climbing onto his cheeks. He's getting wet, now; and he can feel Ventress's bulge growing hard underneath him, and the knowledge drives him crazy.

He humps forward, unconsciously trying to grind on it; and Ventress groans, lips parting, head falling back to rest against the thin pillow. She studies him with hooded eyes. The clone looks delicious; long hair encasing his flushed face, eyes closed, lips parted while he moves against her. Ventress tugs that gorgeous hair of his back with a pull of her hand; Hunter's spine curving in response. A small moan echoes in the walls of her ship.

"Getting a little desperate, aren't why?" She asks, amused but oh, so turned on, dark eyes heavy fixed on his. "You want that inside of you, mm?"

Hunter's whole body trembles at the dirty words coming of her mouth. A rush of slick slips into his underware. His core pulses almost with it's own heartbeat.

Fuck, yes. He wants that. He needs that. He's so empty, he needs her cock to stretch him, needs to be filled and pounded and...

Hunter whines, and Asajj gives him a wide, dangerous smile.

"Not that I'm trying, little clone, but your thoughts are awfully loud in the force".

Hunter blushes; though it doesn't make much difference in his already redenned cheeks. He looks at her as if he were a lost puppy; needing guidance. Ventress smirks.

"Why don't you take it out, then, if you want it so badly?" She suggests, playing with him, but dead-serious at the same time.

Hunter knows she won't let it slip; and it's less humiliating to admit to his desires directly –instead of trying to resist–. So he swallows his embarassment and shyness down, and his hands nervously tug her leggins and underware down; exposing her erection to him for the first time. It tears out a very audible moan from his throat.

"It's so big" he thinks to himself, but speaks out loud.

It's the biggest dick he's ever seen. Warm and heavy, it rests against the woman's pelvis; almost reaching her belly button. There's a few drops of precum that tempts Hunter to take a taste.

Asajj's laugh break him out of his reverie.

"Take a photo, little clone. It'll last longer".

Hunter tries to be nochalant about it.

"I was just curious. You know, with you being a woman and..." he looks down at her cock again, and Ventress gives him a confident, one sided smile.

"Ah. Well, it can't be that much of a surprise... Considering how you're keeping a very similar secret. Aren't you, little clone?"

Hunter squirms. He glances off to the side, but Ventress "tsks" and he redirects his eyes back to her. He doesn't like talking about this. Hell, he doesn't have a lot of sexual experience because he hadn't wanted to face other's reactions; hadn't known how to explain it. What to do or say. But Jedi magic, right? Or well... Well, perhaps his grinding had made his lack of package obvious. Either way, it's not easy admiting it out loud.

"Why don't you show me?" she continues, encourging him upon his silence.

Hunter hesitates for a few seconds; then he shifts his ways on his knees and slowly divests himself. His shirt is thrown to the floor first; his slightly more rounded chest coming into view. They're not really breasts, at least not a full pair; but they're not completely flat and muscular either. There's some softness in them; and his nipples had always been particularly sensitive.

Surprisingly, Ventress waits patiently as he moves on onto the lower part of his outfit. Hunter is finally completely naked in front of her; and the woman eats him up with her eyes while Hunter squirms in place. Insecurity swims inside of him, and some part of him wants nothing more than to dress up again, but... But Ventress smirks in satisfaction and carefully and very slowly swipes two fingers through his wet folds. Hunter clenches around nothing and moans.

"Look at that" she smiles, desire clear in her eyes. "Who would have thought a clone commander would look so pretty with perky nipples and a pussy crying to be filled. Because that's what you truly want, isn't it?"

"Y-yes" Hunter manages to answer, swallowing his embarassment down.

"Well, well, little clone. We must prepare you for that" Ventress taunts, her hand reaching down to gently stroke her cock twice. "I'm not sure I can make all this fit inside of you. I bet you're tight".

Hunter's mind is swimming in desire. He nods, fingers flying down to his clit inmediately. He does a circular motion one, twice; he's so wet and turned on it feels spectacular already.

"Ah, ah. You're going to cum in my cock and only by what my cock gives you" she stops him, making him whimper and look at her in desperation. "If you're so eager, you can start preparing yourself for my cock".

Hunter throws all caution through the window and dips his middle finger inside of him; the movement eased by his wetness. It's one single finger; and yet he feels so full already. Ventress is right; he is tight. It doesn't help his pussy is clenching onto anything that is given to him.

"Just like that, little clone. Go on. You're a big boy, you can take another one".

Hunter whimpers and obbeys; and soon he's pushing two fingers, then three, in and out of him. They become from being too much to being too little; and he whines gripping the woman's hip with his free hand, asking for more.

Ventress, who has been slowly stroking herself while watching his little show, smirks knowingly.

"Yes, Hunter?"

He bites his lip and squirms. He knows she wants him to ask.

"P-please..." he whispers, the urgency clear in his voice.

Ventress smiles wider.

"Please what? I'm not giving you anything until you beg for it".

Hunter moans and tries to hide behind the courtin of his hair momentarily. The woman grabs his chin and forces him to face her. Her eyes demand an answer. Hunter needs to beg.

"Please, Asajj" he surprises himself with how soft his pleading voice sounds. "I want your big cock inside of me".

Ventress groans, kissing him as a reward and swiftly adjusting their positions; tugging him towards her so that his entrance is hovering over her erection. Ventress holds both of his hips with her hands; gesturing down with her head, eyes locked on his.

"Take what you want, little clone. Sit on it". She orders, the last few words coming out in almost a hiss.

It sends electrifying pleasure up his spine; a tremble that is only replicated when he holds her cock in place with one hand and begins to slowly sit on it.

"A-ah" he whines, the stretch of her massive cock too much for his tight entrance to easily adjust. "V-ventress..."

She hums in delight and holds his hips steady; leading him to backtrack a little before taking more of her length inside of him.

"You should see yourself, Hunter" her voice is temptation on itself. "Looking so pretty trying to take my hard cock in your tiny pussy".

Hunter whimpers and stubbornly pushes down the rest of the way; the stretch so abrupt it burns. He makes a second wounded noise in his throat when he involuntarily clenches on her; and Ventress releases her first pure unadulterated, uncontrolled moan of the night. This is affecting her as well; as much as she's good at hiding it.

"S-so big" he repeats, almost as if he needs her to soothe him, to confirm it.

Asajj nods, answer a little raspy.

"Yeah. I can almost see the outline poking in your belly".

Hunter clenches on her again and looks at her desperately; breath already coming out in agitated pantings.

She reads the overwhelming desire in him.

"Move, little clone. I want to see you bouncing up and down on my cock".

Hunter loses himself on Asajj's hard-on. Though at first it's difficult to mantain a rhythim, the feeling too much, his endless desire and wetness soon makes it easier; and encouraged by her dirty words and strong hands, he moves faster and harder, slamming his own hips down on hers until he can almost feel her pushing against his cervix. Is an alarming situation and a incredibly pleassurable once at the same time.

Ventress let's him enjoy himself for some minutes; delighted to watch his pleasure and listen to his curses and moans, eyes tracking the way his body bounces and how his spine arches, how flushed his face looks. The need to fuck him harder, faster, arrives not too long after, though; and she inverts their positions so fast that Hunter is left to stare at her in shock, weeping cock still inside of him.

"You've had your fun, little clone. Now I get to take what I want, and you're just gonna hold on and cope with it".

It's a warning; a promiss. And Hunter soon discovers Ventress has no intention on breaking it.

She tilts his hips upwards; bends his legs open, and pounds in him so hard and deep a broken moan cries into the silence of the night. She doesn't give him respite, though; she's persistent, set on a goal, hips moving confidently over his and feeding her cock into his pussy one time after the other one. He's so wet the sound is almost embarassing; and yet it still turns him on. Ventress's cock feels imposibly good inside of him; so big, stretching him so wide, reaching so deep, branding him inside, carving her shape out of his pussy, one time after the other one and the other one and the other one...

"Please... please..." hunter cries, real tears in his eyes.

It feels so good it's overwhelming. He needs to cum. He needs to explode and release and please, god, this is so fucking good his brain is going to...

"There, there, little clone. Just take. What I. Give you" she hisses back, punching each word with a snap of her hips.

Hunter feels the orgasm impossibly close. He feels tingly already. He can almost graze it with his fingertips. It feels so good, he's so full, she's so big and...

"I-I'm gonna' cum!" He warns her, eyes shutting down inmediately, mouth dropping in an opent pant.

Ventress groans and pounds harder. She places a firm –and carefull– hand on Hunter's throat.

The man whines. The stars explode.

"I-I'm cum-ing!" He cries out, every single muscle on his body clenching harshly, squeezing the woman's cock.

Tingling spreads from his pussy to every single nerve ending on his body; shivering uncontrollably.

Ventress opens up on the Force; swallowing his pleasure down, making it part of her own.

"F-fuck!" She groans, almost tasting her own orgasm too. "D-drop to your knees, Hunter. Now".

It's not a question. It's an order. It's urgent. Necessary.

A dazzed Hunter rolls over and kneels on the floor; sleepy, satisfied eyes looking up at the woman's figure in ecstasy. Ventress takes a stand right in front of him. She grabs his hair with one hand, tilting his face upwards; desperately strokes her cock with the other one.

"Want to fucking paint your face" she growls, managing to send a last shiver of pleasure through Hunter's nerves. "Want to see your pretty face drenched in my warm cum, little clone..."

Hunter hums and obediently sticks his tongue out; and the sight of it, of the clone voluntarily offering his mouth to her, is what does it. Ventress moans and cums; white ropes of her warm seed painting Hunter's flushed face and dripping down. Ventress caresses the tip against his cheek; then against his lips. Hunter hums and gives her a kittle lick in complete contempt and relaxation. It's Ventress's time to shiver.

"Good boy" she murmurs, energy dropping, falling down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Hunter hums and follows; drops forward, head coming to rest to one of her thighs. He's growing sleepy as well; and Ventress chuckles in what can only be... Well, not happiness, but fond amusement, maybe.

THE END.

[cal-writes]

I just read your Zoro&Nami pirate hunter au. I love how you write them. Do you have anything more for it?

Maybe they got captured, because of something stupid, and Zoro has to keep attention of the bad guys while Nami is picking locks or something.

It’s not relief she feels when she sees Zoro’s chest move in deep breath as he dangles from the ceiling by the shackles around his wrists.

Relief would imply she cares, which she doesn’t. She is smarter than that.

Satisfaction maybe, that she hadn’t wasted her time trying to find him.

Nami takes a careful step forward, hyper aware of the creaking floorboards and Zoro cracks open an eye. When he recognizes her in the dim light he blinks, frowning. “What are you doing here?” He asks.

She bristles. “Thank you Nami. I owe you, Nami. You’re my savior, Nami.” She clicks her tongue and crosses her arms over her chest.

He snorts. The shackles clink as he pulls himself up marginally, biceps flexing. “Didn’t expect to see you is all.”

It stings. It shouldn’t.

“I can leave if you’d rather stay here.” She bites out before getting her lockpicks out.

Zoro seems to be considering for a moment just to annoy her, holding back a smirk. Then he puts out his knee so she can use it to climb up to reach the lock of the shackles.

He stinks, which is to be expected after being held captive on a pirate ship for two days. His clothes are soaked through with sweat and salt water and feel uncomfortably sticky when she braces on his shoulders for balance.

It’s so dark she has to pick the lock blind. “That’s why you don’t accept drinks from strangers.” She chides him.

He grunts, shifting his stance to be more steady. “You were a stranger when you bought me a drink.”

And you really shouldn’t have let me do that.

She bites her lip instead of saying it outloud.

“Got a plan for getting off the ship?” He asks.

Nami huffs. “Who do you take me for?”

Then the door to the brig rattles and they both freeze.

“Hey, who locked this thing from the inside?” One of the pirates asks through the door. His speech is slurred so they had kept drinking after Nami goated them to celebrate.

She clears her throat. “I wanted to have some fun with our prisoner.” She shouts back, making her voice deep and sardonic. “Make pain noises.” She hisses at Zoro before doubling her efforts at the lock.

“Are you serious?” Zoro shoots back in a whisper.

The pirate hits the door, making the wood rattle.

Zoro exhales in annoyance before letting out a feeble yell.

Nami hangs her head, fingers cramping from the position she’s holding them in to work the lock. “You’re terrible at this.”

She tells him. Zoro huffs and in the dark the tips of his ears look redder than before.

“Don’t have all the fun by yourself.” The pirate tells them, something suspicious in his voice.

Zoro screams, low and raspy, nearly strangled. It comes out so sudden that she startles.

“Maybe after I’m done with him.” She shouts, a little too late to be perfectly convincing.

They exchange a look before Zoro gives a blood curdling shout with a completely straight face. The sound makes the hammering in the door stop midway through and is possibly the most impressive display of deception Nami has seen from Zoro yet.

“Damn fine, leave something left of him, you hear?” The pirate tells her, hitting the door once more before his steps recede.

They stay there in silence for a moment, Nami standing on Zoro’s knee, arms tangled so she can reach his shackled wrists.

“Since when are you good at lying?” She asks and continues her work.

Zoro shrugs, making her scramble to not fall off. “Just because I don’t do it doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“And you refuse to because?” He just shrugs again, more careful this time and Nami would strangle him if she hadn’t wasted precious time saving him. “Your pride is going to be the death of you one day.”

The shackles open and Zoro’s arms fall, tension suddenly lost and Nami braces herself to hit the deck before his gross sweaty arms catch her. They tremble with exertion, cold from the lack of circulation.

They part and she hands him his swords.

“I’m not always going to be around to save you.” She warns him.

Zoro smirks, tying his bandana around his head with shaking hands before he rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, I know.” There is something in his tone that makes her chest hurt. “Thanks. I owe you.” He tells her with a dip of his head.

Nami swallows hard. “I’ll add it to your tab.”

[ask-felix-aberg]

“Felix? Mr. Felix Åberg?”

A young woman calls gently, approaching from across Ravenclaw Tower’s common room. She pauses just before reaching Felix on one of the many sofas strewn about, dipping into an earnest curtsy. Her long chestnut curls spill over a shoulder with the motion, momentarily obscuring freckles and a three-pronged scar. Once the formality is settled, she sits with her ankles crossed on the cushion next to him, clearly reining in her enthusiasm. Hands folded in her lap, tempest grey eyes crinkling at the corners, posture straight as an arrow- textbook definition of a proper young lady.

“Oh, Felix! I had hoped to run into you- I’m Euphemia, Euphemia Melisandre Spindle. The girl who sent you that owl about your Animagus?”

She blinked in realization, nose crinkling like a particularly disdainful bunny rabbit.

“Oh- goodness, or might it be uncouth to mention such things aloud…hm. Well, I assure you I shan’t tell a soul of your…- erm. Goat tendencies.”

He is alternatively…a what?

Shh.

“Anyways, I’ve always seen you in passing and I said to myself, I said Euphemia, you cannot possibly leave this poor chap with a singular owl in jest only to vanish for lack of gumption. I was sure I’d find a moment of your time here eventually, all of our flock returns to the nest, don’t they just? Or, rather, we Ravenclaws do that is. Can’t be certain of the other Houses. Oh, I do humbly apologize if my initial correspondence was offensive in any way, sincerely I’d only meant for it to be-“

Euphemia.

“Hm?” She came to a halt on all fronts, including mid-animated gesture. A flicker of affectionate amusement rippled from the thoughts not her own.

You’re blithering again, dear.

…Oh. Right, yes. Shit. Um-

Euphemia cleared her throat, then, tucking a strand of dark waves behind her ear before regarding Felix again with a sheepish pink tint to her cheeks.

“Aheh. That is to say in less convoluted measures, erm…a pleasure to meet you. I’m Euphie.”

Outstanding performance, truly magnificent. He’s sure to be wooed.

Eleazar, I swear to God.

Felix looked up from his book at the mention of his name, blinking as his thoughts shifted from magical theory to the present, surprised to see a young lady approaching from across the Ravenclaw common room. The curtsy caught him off guard, making him straighten instinctively as she dipped into an earnest bow before sitting beside him on the sofa.

As she introduced herself, her words tumbling out in a rush, Felix listened with quiet amusement. Euphemia Spindle. The name vaguely rang a bell, and then it clicked - the owl. His lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. Gently, he closed his book and slipped it into his bag, giving her his full attention.

"The pleasure's mine, Euphie. And no offence taken," Felix said warmly, his tone gentle. "I found your owl rather refreshing, actually." He tilted his head slightly, eyes sparkling with humour. "Though I have to admit, my... goatish qualities aren't often a subject of conversation in the common room." He grinned, hoping to ease her nerves.

"It's nice to meet you in person. So," he added, a playful glint in his eye, "what can I do for you today? More questions for science?" His light, teasing tone was meant to coax a smile back to her face.

[wolfoftheblackflames]

Are ya misfits ready for more tasty goodness?! I sure am, so enjoy!

Dancing with the Devil: Pt. 3

It was later that day the two women were getting ready for their date, Razzle helped Charlie while Dazzle helped Vaggie. "You sure I look ok? Oh my gosh I'm so nervous..." Charlie gulped, trying to straighten her hair.

"Baaaap!" Razzle replied with a thumbs up, bringing some relief to Charlie's racing heart. How could she not be nervous? This was her first date in a while, and it's with the cutest, sweetest, most thoughtful woman in hell! Charlie swooned a little, wondering how Vaggie looked. The princess didn't have to wait long as she gulped nervously, knocking on the guestroom door.

"I'll be out in a bit!" Vaggie replied, though yelped as Dazzle tried to shoo out the angel. "Hey!" 

"Baaap bap baap!" Dazzle replied in a more reassuring but scolding tone.

Charlie chuckled lightly, hearing the two bicker, however her eyes widened once the door opened. Holy shit, she was so beautiful. Charlie's throat felt dry as her heart just picked up the pace, threatening to burst right out. "W-wow..." Was all the princess could get out. Which she mentally kicked herself for.

Vaggie blinked, standing in a gorgeous black gown that had a night sky theme going on with its small gradient of purple mixed into it with her regular eyepatch on, plus a pair of beautiful deep purple heels that seem to sparkle. She blushed a bit since she had tied up her semi-long hair in a simple low ponytail. "Cat, got your tongue, princess?"  She teased with a giggle.

"What n-no, I just didn't expect you to look so..." Charlie gulped as the next word left her lips with ease. "Beautiful." The princess looked away a little playing with some of her blonde hair.

Vaggie just blushed a bit harder. "You look nice too, hon.." She answered as she lightly moved back some of her greyish-white hair. She was thankful for the looking away since her cheeks were tinted a soft shade of gold right now. Charlie's outfit looked especially stunning as well, the way the off shoulder styled black and white blouse hugged her torso, the simple yet flattering black dress pants that compliment long legs and finally some adorable black dress shoes. She also noticed Charlie having an elegant braid instead of the usual dual hair ties, plus the cutest looking golden chain necklace. "Dios mío..." Vaggie whispered lightly, tugging at her own matching chain, but then she shook her head. "Shall we go?" She asked, making the blonde look back at her.

"Y-yes let's.." Charlie said a little too quickly as Razzle handed her a nice black suit jacket. "Thanks Razzle." She patted the goat body guard on his head.

"Baaap!" He replied, looking pleased.

Soon, the two headed to the limo with the goat bodyguards close behind, taking their place upfront. Charlie smiled and politely opened the door. "Your chariot awaits m'lady." She grinned trying to make Vaggie laugh. It worked as the smaller woman rolled her eye with a chuckle. 

"Why, thank you." Vaggie humored her date and played along doing a small curtsy, which made both of them have a fit of giggles.

The limo ride felt long as Vaggie noticed Charlie fidgeting again. “Huh?” Worried ruby eyes met concerned ivory. “Sorry it's been awhile since I've seen the other royals..” The princess muttered a little uncomfortable.

Vaggie reached over and gently placed a comforting hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Don't be sorry. Though I am curious as to your outfit choice.” The angel asked, trying to change the subject since it bothered her hellborn best friend. 

Charlie blinked a bit and smiled a little at the attempt. “Is it bad?” She asked, being a little shy. “No? Why would it be?” She heard Vaggie reply. Charlie chuckled softly and lightly took Vaggie's free hand into her own giving it a light squeeze. “Well I.. The nobles see Charlotte Morningstar the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar King of Hell and Lilith Morningstar the Queen of Hell. But to tell you the truth, it really feels suffocating to me to be referred to as such.” She started to ramble, her eyes falling to the floor of the limo.

Vaggie nodded, since the first few days she had been staying with Charlie, the princess was adamant on being called Charlie, and not her full name or title. And when she spoke about her parents, the demoness also seemed aloof when she spoke about them. “You do know I can just punch some asshole in the face for disrespecting you right? All you need to do is say the word.” She replied, earning a soft chuckle.

“Vaggie, you're really sweet, but even if you do, and fuck some of those jerks could use a good whack, it's not really worth it.” 

“Te juro que eres demasiado agradable a veces…” (I swear you're too damn nice sometimes) Vaggie muttered, shaking her head. “You could use some of your authority to get people to listen to you?” 

Charlie shook her head at that comment. “That's so mean though, besides I don't want people to see just the Princess of Hell part, I want them to see me, Charlie. A girl who cares about her subjects and wants to make life in Hell better.” 

“Baaap!” Razzle spoke up signaling that they were here. 

Charlie groaned softly but gulped since she was seeing some old friends, and one big jerk she never wanted to see again. Vaggie lightly took Charlie's hand again when the latter reluctantly released it. “We're on a date, remember?” She stated with a cheeky smirk which made Charlie's heart flutter as the two stepped out of the quiet limo and into the loud bustling ball grounds.

(Hope you enjoyed part 3, cause parts 4 and 5 are coming soon! Thanks for reading)

[otakuwithapen]

Here Did War No Longer Wish to Watch

I have once again clawed my way out of the depths of hell to bring you all another random AU no one asked for for a game no one knew I liked. More below the cut cuz ✨Gore✨

I present, the Purple Crown AU! AKA what I think was going on in the Goat’s home universe (I’m calling him Goatholemew fight me.)

The Goat

Of course, Goatholemew takes the role of our beloved sacrificial lamb goat. He’s the last of his kind, the sole survivor of the genocide performed by the Bishops of the Old Faith in an attempt to render an old prophecy unfulfillable.

Unfortunately for the Bishops, War is Always Watching. Beaten bloody, driven to desperation, Goatholemew was able to connect to the lingering presence of The One Who Watches when knocked unconscious. They granted him the strength to seek vengeance, with certain stipulations, of course.

The One Who Watches

In this AU, Shamura grew discontent with their role as Bishop of War. They grew wary of watching, waiting for conflict to arise. Death, Chaos, Famine and Disease all seemed to occur at their leisure, but War was the doing of those who sought it. War was planned, premeditated and, in Shamura’s eyes, predictable. They sought knowledge to expand their domain.

This discovery soon began to threaten the realms of the other Bishops. When words failed to sooth the God of War, their siblings turned to drastic measures. Each sacrificed a piece of themself, in turn sealing away a piece of Shamura and sealing their consciousness into the realm of the unwaking.

It was said, one say, Shamura would be released by one with horns like sickles and fur like muddied ichor—a Goat in search of vengeance. Despite the Bishops’ best efforts, they couldn’t thwart fate.

Narinder

Narinder takes Leshy’s place as the youngest of the Bishops. He’s fool hardy and somewhat naive, ruling over his realm, Stillgrave, with zealous confidence. Narinder sacrificed his eyes to imprison Shamura, their Arms sealed deep within his temple.

In Stillgrave, the lines between life and death blur. Spirits walk among the living, all under Narinder’s watchful crown. Though strong as any god ought to be, it was Narinder’s hubris that led him to fall to the Goat’s blade.

Leshy

Leshy adopts Heket’s role as the most assertive of the Bishops, though he remains in dominion of Darkwood. Leshy sacrificed his throat and jaw to defeat Shamura, and with it much of his ability to speak, though thankfully he can communicate through his Crown when needed. He guards Shamura’s legs.

Though saddened by Narinder’s defeat, Leshy was no less willing to strike the Goat down for their blasphemy. Unfortunately, they too fell, yet another fallen Crown in their wake.

Heket

After witnessing the defeat of her brothers, Heket takes on Kalamar’s former place as the coward of the Bishops. Having gouged out her ears in order to seal away Shamura, rending her all but deaf to the reassurances of her siblings, Heket is tasked with guarding Shamura’s body.

Though the creatures of Anura are as ravenous as ever, and Heket still attempts to hobble the Goat through famine, she quickly finds herself resorting to pleas for mercy in the face of conflict. The Goat, however, seems deaf as she as they strike her down.

Kalamar

Kalamar is the eldest of the Bishops here, formerly the guiding hand of his siblings before the sacrifice of his skull fractured his psyche. Hidden deep within the trenches of Anchordeep, Kalamar guards Shamura’s still-beating heart.

His lucidity is questionable, though he’s present enough to understand the gravity of the situation when The Goat arrives at his temple. In spite of his best efforts, however, the Goat strikes him down, gathering the last piece needed to free Shamura.

[beardedmrbean]

Unpopular opinion but I don't trust Melania. I truly believe she is using her husband for money and fame. And call me old fashioned, but the first lady should be a role model to young women and someone with a porn star past isn't capable of being that. I am NOT saying Michelle Obama was a good role model or anything either, but we can do better. First ladies used to have more class

Melania was a fashion/glamour model not anything to do with porn, the job does include being nude from time to time but it's not really in the control of the model and if they want to keep working sometimes it's what you gotta do unless you have the name recognition of the big supermodels.

And even they do the nude thing if they feel like it, source Robin Thicke's Good Times video.

Side note the Weird Al parody of that one (word crimes) occasionally pops into my head when I'm typing and helps me remember some of the rules of writing and such.

She came from a very modest background in what was still Yugoslavia and managed to catch the eye of some big names while successfully trying to make a name for herself.

Which she did as we all know.

Which in turn made her a whole lot of money, so she doesn't really need Trump for that, be why she signed the Pre-Nup without reservations.

She speaks Slovenian, English, French, Italian, and German fluently albeit with an accent, I can barely manage English some days.

She has a extensive list of accomplishments, has proven to be very smart and capable on her own and as first lady.

There's noting concrete about any degrees but it's pretty clear she's a smart woman given all the other accomplishments.

She was born in a communist country and made her way to the US and managed to wind up the 2nd foreign born first lady in US history.

So she's got some tasteful modeling shots where she's nude, it's not like she worked as a porn actress or even did lewd photoshoots.

Or are we going to call all this porn too?

She's an accomplished woman who made a big name for herself before meeting Trump and none of the stuff she did as a model is anything for her to be ashamed of at all.

My lifelong democrat dad can't stand trump and wants him locked up for both real and perceived crimes, but the only thin negative he could ever come up with for Melania is questioning her judgment when it comes to picking a partner.

Maybe we should go back to the Nancy Reagan "throat goat" jokes instead.

[posarmeklen]

Don’t you hate when you turn your back for a minute at your dead-end copy job (sorry, dead-end desktop publishing job), and all of a sudden, one half of your sister’s cool teen quartet along with your horndog conspiracist friend are holding paper products (er, helping with a big job) and flapping their lips about the latter’s fairly new unplanned pregnancy?

It was just a coincidence that Goat swung by to visit Alex at Repro Man’s shortly after Fruity and Matt came in, and even though they had heard through Chaka (who, naturally, knew because of Alex) that the older man was in a “delicate” condition, it was their first time bumping into him in person since.

Hearing Fruity’s compliments, Matt turned around from the poster in his hands. “Oh, hey, Goat,” he greeted him.

“Hey, Matt, what’s up?”  

“Probably nothing compared to what’s up with you, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Goat coughed.

“Yeah, you know, my cousin just had a baby a couple months ago,” Matt offered up. “I’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t easy for her, but she said it was totally worth it. You know, yin and yang and all that.”

“Hey, I don’t think this situation calls for the poetry.” Fruity made a disapproving smacking sound with his lips.  “Man, can’t you just leave this beautiful thing be?” Goat smirked.

“Chill out, alright?” said Matt, gingerly transferring a large stack of paper from Fruity’s hands to his own and placing it by the copier. “I was just going to ask how he’s taking it.”

“Well,” Goat said emphatically. “Do you want the miracle-of-life Demi Moore Vanity Fair edition, or the cold unabridged truth?” His words conjured an image of himself, au naturel and assuming the pose of the actress, which subsequently splintered and fell away like a broken pane of glass.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than the second one from you.” Matt smiled.

“Oh, it’s fuckin’ brutal,” he asserted. “Imagine the most head-splitting zombifying hangover, with none of the fun from the night before.”

Fruity raised his eyebrows. “None?”

“Oooh, rough…” Matt mumbled sympathetically.

“My back hurts all time. Everything’s sweaty. Plus, on top of that, I can’t really see my junk. It makes for a challenge when women’s volleyball is on and I wanna –”

“Alright, alright…” Matt’s laugh cut the description of his plight short. “I think we get the picture.”

“Hey, we’re all guys here!” grinned Fruity, giving an open-palmed shrug.

“I will say, it’s not a total loss,” Goat went on. “I seem to have unlocked a brand-new level of savoring life’s pleasures.”

“Oh, because you had trouble with that before, right?” teased Matt.

“Eh, I don’t know, but this baby must love Ring-Dings and Bud Light.”

“Hey, and at least the ladies eat up this stuff,” Fruity said. “You know, feeling the baby kick and comparing its size to a dill pickle and crap. They must be all over you.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, right on.” Goat looked past him, letting out a sigh. “Is there a bathroom in this place? I gotta take a leak.”

“Yeah, right over by the back wall,” said Matt.

“I won’t keep you,” Fruity added, motioning in the general direction of the door.

So anyway, when it comes to Fruity’s comment re: the “fairer sex” and pregnancy, I would be remiss not to mention the kindred spirit Goat hit it off with, the child’s second parent (seen in my Downtown posts of yesteryear. However, I did change her name for some reason. Friendship ended with “Jackie”, “Kasey” is my best friend now). *clears my throat and shuffles flashcards* There came a point of awareness that despite their similarities, they were at really different life stages (Goat had been doing his own thing for years, but Kasey, a trans woman who was Goat’s age, had been living as herself for a fraction of that and was relishing her freedom) and while Goat initially hadn’t changed his lifestyle a bit to accommodate the pregnancy, she didn’t want to live like him forever and begrudged his seeming lack of trying. Words were exchanged, and the pair went their separate ways. Not to worry – they would soon rekindle, and both put forth effort to be healthier (in Goat’s case, he was mostly propelled by the knowledge of his physical condition; in Kasey’s, she was inspired to show a sort of solidarity with him, plus she would soon be a parent as well, despite not physically being pregnant).  But given their respective issues, neither swayed the other in a positive direction, and they soon reached the disappointing yet amicable conclusion that they were perhaps too alike to remain close. And in the midst of that, they just knew neither of them were cut out to raise children (what were we thinking?) – so wish granted for a lucky adoptive parent(s). But I digress… I wonder if some of this diverted him from regaling Fruity and Matt with salacious tales when given the opportunity.

Also, by the way? Even though Fruity was being facetious in my picture and Goat wouldn’t name his offspring after himself, he and the aforementioned second parent did discover at an ultrasound (the first and only; Goat completely forgot about an appointment scheduled earlier in the pregnancy 😑) that the fetus was male. Goat after he and Kasey exchanged an overwhelmed glance and muttered fragmented agreeable noises upon being asked if they were interested in finding out the baby’s sex today: “Rock on! Built-in apprentice and wingman, here I come…” *medical technician politely chuckling intensifies*

[dmwrites]

So, I was thinking about in-game/storyline reasons for Bdubs not uploading his pov of Limited Life, and it kind of spiraled from “maybe he’s an npc this season” to “well grian would have to do the administrative work to make a bdubs npc I guess” to “well Martyn’s vtuber lore…”, so now there’s this thing. Uh, enjoy?

——

“Bdubs?”

Cleo heard a familiar throat clearing from behind the tree she and Scar were trying to cut down, and called out to whoever was on the other side of the river.

“Ah, Cleo, hello!”

Cleo smiled cheerily at Bdubs, who was approaching them. Scar waved Bdubs over, and they all started working on chopping down the same big dark oak tree.

“Another life series already, can you believe it?” Cleo asked. She couldn’t help but smile- the sun was warm, her friends were all around her, and a new opportunity for good, wholesome murder.

It was natural, the way that she, Scar, and Bdubs fell into an alliance. They were good together, a kind of natural blend of sarcasm and thirst for violence.

But something wasn’t quite right. She shrugged it off at first, thinking it was the general overhanging anxiety of a clock ticking down to death. But no, it wasn’t until the second boogeyman was chosen that she began to realize exactly what was wrong.

When Bdubs had killed Skizz, not even a minute after he had been named boogeyman number two, Cleo hadn’t been paying attention to him. She had been laughing at Scar, and helping him out of the pond he’d fallen into after being rammed by a goat. But when she looked up, to see a death message in chat and Bdubs standing, axe still raised, that same, broad smile on his face.

“Bdubs?”

There was a moment of stillness, where Bdubs stood there, staring off into the space that Skizz had occupied only moments ago. His head then jerked to the side, and he laughed.

“Ah, Cleo, hello. Ah, well, that’s done now.”

Cleo laughed at his laissez-faire attitude, but couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen something from Bdubs that wasn’t right.

“Bdubs! You killed Skizz!” Scar exclaimed, interrupting her thoughts.

Bdubs didn’t respond to that, just smiled broadly as Skizz came over the hill again, swearing up a storm and making everything even more funny.

As much as she’d like to forget the weirdness she felt about Bdubs, it was impossible, since he was right there, cheering her on, joining Scar in calling her Mom. He was being odd, in ways that wouldn’t have mattered to anyone but her. He didn’t wear armor until Cleo gave him some. Whatever was suggested, he happily agreed to. He had that big ol’ classic Bdubs smile, but it was the eyes. There was something missing from his eyes- like they had gone dull and lifeless, like a statue or doll.

“Scar?”

“Hmm? Yes, Mom?” Scar was sitting on the top of the mountain, resting for a moment, and gave a cackle as he spoke.

Cleo elected to ignore that for the time being. “Does something seem a little… off… about Bdubs to you?” She eased herself down next to him.

Scar frowned, and Cleo had to appreciate that Scar, for all of his misgivings and silly nature, took her seriously when it was needed. The two looked towards their rudimentary farm land, where Bdubs was doing some final bits of crop harvesting before the sun fully set. The last rays of sunlight glinted off of the many clocks that hung off of his body. He was planting seeds in a uniform, practiced way, focused on his task without the usual whimsical and jumpy gait to his step.

“No, not really.” Scar said slowly. “But, I will say… isn’t it odd that his skin doesn’t change? We all get reset every season, but he… it’s like his last life season never really left him or something.”

Cleo frowned. Last Life was always close to her mind too, but it had never left any… physical marks. Bdubs looked like a sore that never healed.

“Oh, also, he said this thing I thought was kind of, well, I wouldn’t call it out of character, and it was a throwaway comment at best I suppose, but when he and I were trekking the server with our horses and wares, he said he was content to just watch me, like some kind of hidden camera show. Watching my life. Like he’s just a camera for me. And he’s always egging on my terrible ideas.”

“But he’s always like that- he’s a ‘yes, and’ man. You know that.” Cleo said.

“You’re the one who seems to be worried- why don’t you go talk to him then? I don’t want the family to be broken up so quickly. We already lost Dad.”

Cleo smacked Scar lightly up the backside of his head. “Shut it, boy.”

She did wander out to Bdubs, who was just finishing up the final seed plantings.

“Bdubs?”

“Ah, Cleo, hello!” Bdubs stood up and beamed at her.

“Are you okay, Bdubs?” Cleo asked. “Enjoying your time so far?”

“Of course! I am greatly enjoying this time with my friends!” Bdubs’ face wasn’t changing. He was talking and his mouth was moving, but his eyes still were just that same kind of glassy deadness. It struck Cleo all at once, suddenly, what exactly was wrong. It was the uncanny valley effect that she sometimes got when she made a statue too realistic. Bdubs didn’t look like he was living. It was impossible to tell, most people wouldn’t ever see it, only feel that weird anxiety.

“You’re not the real Bdubs.” Cleo said, trying very hard to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Bdubs’ mouth opened and closed for a moment, those eyes still just as wide and happy as it had been since she’d first seen Bdubs on this sever.

“Bdubs?”

“Ah, yes, Cleo.”

“You say that every time I say your name.” Cleo whispered.

——

“Grian.”

Joel and Jimmy must have wandered off, leaving Grian in the ruins of the mansion (which Cleo secretly giggled about). Grian was typing on his commutator, assumedly some admin stuff to do with the server, but looked up and smiled as Cleo approached.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you, but I think something is… off about Bdubs.”

For a moment, a flash of recognition and panic appeared in Grian’s face, then smoothed back out. Grian was good at lying, but Cleo had been dealing with misbehavior and liars for a lot longer then he’d even been alive.

“I don’t know w-”

“Don’t bother lying to me, you’ll just embarrass yourself.” Cleo cut him off abruptly. Her head was pounding- she was right, something was wrong. And Grian knew what it was. “What happened to Bdubs?”

“Cleo, that is an administrative issue, not a player issue. That information is private and between only those who need to know.” Grian was talking fast, and his communicator kept beeping- resetting a whole mansion wasn’t an easy task, clearly. He was clearly distracted. “Bdubs being an npc this season is not- oh no.” Grian groaned at his mistake. He closed his communicator and took out his sword. “Okay, so let’s just pretend that I didn’t say that.”

“You really think you can frighten me into silence, little bird?” Cleo crossed her arms and puffed out her chest. She was very scared, she knew how Grian was when he was backed into a corner. And she didn’t even have diamond armor.

“Cleo, listen. I respect you, and I know you care a lot about Bdubs. But let this one go. It’s not… it’s complicated, okay? No one can know, not ever. It’s too…” Grian looked her over, coming to some kind of decision. “Listen, I may not scare you, but I will kill you. If this gets out, I will slaughter you over and over until your out of the series. With no remorse. I promise this.”

Cleo held her ground for as long as she could, jaw set, brain frantically screaming at her to go. “Fine.” She finally said. “It stays here. For now.” She turned and walked away without another word, mentally preparing for an arrow to the back. But nothing came, and she walked until she was beyond the still-smoldering dark oak forest. She could see her allies, Scar and not-really Bdubs, on the mountain, but she couldn’t go there. Not yet.

So she walked in the flat area around spawn, just kind of wandering, mind racing. So Bdubs was some kind of npc- she vaguely knew what that meant. Non-playable. But how could a person be non-playable? It did seem like he has certain things that he said and did- a yes, and man to the extreme, which wasn’t too far off from the man she knew anyway. She had to wonder if being boogeyman hasn’t been part of the script, if that’s why he’d killed Skizz the instant he’d be chosen. But was that even what npc meant?

“But why have an npc?” She murmured to herself, wandering by a small cave opening.

“What did you just say?”

And faster then she’d ever seen him move, Martyn barreled out of the cave entrance, a wild look in his eyes. It was odd to see her old soulmate, and she almost expected a twinge of pain when he tripped over a rock in his hurry over to her.

“Martyn?”

“Cleo, please- did you just say npc?” Martyn was almost shaking, and held out his hands to her. She’d never seen him look so rattled.

“I- yeah.” She cringed, remembering Grian’s threats. “But that’s just between you and me. What, do you know something about that?”

“I- oh my god.” Martyn ran his fingers through his hair. “We need to talk right now. If you know what npc’s are, that changes everything. I- wow.”

“What on earth are you on about, Martyn?” Cleo asked, anxiety rising in her once again.

“I don’t know.” Martyn said. “Well, I do, kind of, it’s just… can we talk?” He gestured to his cave.

“I- yeah, I suppose so.” Cleo replied. It was almost funny, how they were teamed up together by necessity once more. But this seemed a lot bigger then their own souls. Cleo thought of Bdubs and his empty, wide eyes, and it steeled whatever resolve she had inside her.

“So, where to start…”