#they have ravaged every and all communities

[orphicmusings]

“give me ten minutes and a pillow for his hips”

18+ | MDNI

its not that viktor didn’t want to devour you. take you in the almost impossible positions he’d widen his eyes at reading about when he got bored in the library, attempting to anatomically sketch it out on a napkin to visualize how it would work hastily before anyone came in and caught him flipping through an erotic novel. and he would, through the pain, it would be so worth it— if not for your gentle consideration. the one thing sexier than your dazed face looking up at him, all heated cheeks and hooded eyes, was how perceptive you were— how well you knew him, how well you saw him. you were attuned to him now, an invisible string between you. a phenomenon he could never sit down and wrap his big head around, just how connected the two of you had become that you barely needed words to communicate sometimes. like, for example, an abrupt whine sneakily covered by the clearing of his throat.

you were both excited and apprehensive when he brought up wanting to be on top tonight. you knew he would be putting pressure on his bad leg and of course you brought it up, but the way his voice dipped in velvet and wrapped around you, the lyrical lilt in his accent becoming hushed and deeper as he detailed how he wanted you under him, he wanted to take you, claim you, devour you with no inhibitions. his silver tongue won against your worried left brain, twice technically, until you heard it— the slightest change of rhythm in the strum of your little connective string.

“viktor?” you lifted your head. “what was that?”

he took a deep breath and buried his head in the crook of your neck. “nothing, darling.” he punctuated his assurance was a distracting suckle on your skin. and god, you almost gave in again, almost, but you gently tilted his head up and looked into his darkened eyes. “didn’t sound like nothing.”

damn you and your perceptive skills. he loves them so much.

another deep breath leaves him, and before he could wave it off, you press him. “it’s your leg, isn’t it?” you ask, already knowing the answer, and he can’t lie to you.

“yes.” he breathed in surrender. “i’m sorry, my love i really wanted to-what are you doing?” he frowned, watching you roll out from under him and grab one of the pillows on his bed.

“armchair, now.” you pointed to the chair across the room, with the plush ottoman in front of it that you gifted him. he couldn’t help but let a smirk pull at the corners of his mouth.

“bossy.” yet, he obeyed and made his way over to you. you gave him the pillow, instructing him to put it under his hip as he sat down, making sure his leg was elevated on the ottoman. once you got him all situated, you didn’t even have time to ask if it felt better before he was grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you like a man starved. you melted into his touch, straddling him but careful not to apply too much pressure. “so fucking sweet.” he pants the praise huskily into your mouth. “too good to me.”

his hands traveled down your body to grip your hips, pulling you flush to him. you started grinding slowly, and he guided you, a shaky breath leaving your mouth before you even got to the main event. every noise from your mouth caused a shiver to run down his spine, striking him with irrational need— he didn’t care that the things he wanted to do to you would make him scream in pain, he felt that he would simply die if he couldn’t fuck you the way he pictured it in his head right now.

but then he looks at you, just as dazed and hungry on top of him as you were under him, and a smile creeps up on him. it doesn’t matter if he were to throw you down and ravage you like a love interest in those books, or if you were softly bouncing on his length, burying your little sighs and whimpers into the crook of his neck, he’s still pleasing you. he’s still enough for you. he exhaled a smirk.

“none of that, darling.” he lifted your jaw to meet his eyes. “wanna see you and hear you. can you do that for me?” you nodded, struggling to keep your head up in the throes of pleasure, but having no trouble letting your mouth run wild with curses and praises and whines and whimpers. and it was all music to his ears. “that’s it, sweet girl.” his voice came ragged as he reached his long fingers to press on your clit. you all but screamed, tugging gently on the curls of the nape of his neck. he whined and threw his head back.

“am i hurting you?” you asked hoarsely, your hand hovering over his hair. he shook his head adamantly, taking your head and tangling it back in his hair himself. each thrust would earn a tug, and each tug would earn a pretty noise from him, causing another push to each of your edges.

“love you….” he whispered against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss against it as you both reached your peaks, breathing heavily against each other. “love you so much.”

[rubiehart]

INTRODUCING ONLYFANS!READER…

by the time you’d reached your last resort, you and jj been in a relationship for almost a year, a steady one, full of love, romance and a whole lotta lust. which meant, you two weren’t exactly the worst pair to make an onlyfans account.

there was no doubt in either of your minds that it would flop, with jj’s libido, confidence and a body of a damn greek god, and you, prettiest girl he’d ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on, with your amazing body and matching energy towards the whole ordeal, you were bound to rise.

and that’s exactly what you did once you’d collected a fair amount of subscribers, feeding them almost daily with new content, most of the time where you’d take on a more submissive role, let jj take control and steer the whole thing, let him act like you didn’t brainstorm pretty much all of your video ideas, and outfits.

outfits were your whole motivation for the whole thing, jj didn’t have a damn clue where you’d get all this new lingerie from, almost a new set every damn night for him to gawk at you in, before absolutely ravaging you for the viewers on screen, who no doubt wished they were in jj’s place, or yours. who knows?

you’d make twitter accounts where’d you’d tease new content, do streams where’d you’d interact personally with viewers, even sometimes do special commissions and cameos for anyone who was willing to pay the price. and of course, many were.

so, after a while you became this niche couple that rocked the only fans community, not just having your fifteen minutes of fame and dipping, you kept it up, quality video after quality video and each one left people drooling for more of your dynamic.

each night you’d curl up into his side, placing your phone down on the nightstand after making sure it was silenced, because if not you’d have been kept up at night with notifications. jj’s snoring softly and you smile into his warm embrace, always wondering..

what would they request next?

[dixons-sunshine]

Damn Tease | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was an extremely hot day in Alexandria. Luckily, there wasn't much to do, barely anything at all, so you and Daryl decided to do it while everyone else relaxed for a change. However, Daryl soon wished he hadn't offered, because you decided it would be a good idea to get him all worked up—and your tiny shorts and tank top certainly didn't help his mind stay on track.

Genre: Suggestive.

Era: Alexandria, no arc in particular.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes.

Word count: 1.5k.

A/n: For @ghostboneswrites2's writing challenge! It's my first time ever doing one of these so hopefully I did it right lol. I hope you like this! By the way, to my fellow writers, please join if you feel up for it! You can find the post with the prompts and rules here.

The blazing summer sun relentlessly beat down on the world ravaged by the undead. It seemed as if though even the flesh eating monsters that roamed the earth every day had deemed the day too hot to go on their regular cannibalistic ventures, for no rotting corpse could be seen for miles and no loud groan could be heard in the near distance. The Alexandrian occupants had decided that the overly hot day would be spent lounging indoors or on their porches, the tasks of the day luckily not too much and could be left for the next day. However, Daryl had decided earlier that very morning that lounging indoors wasn't an activity that he wanted to partake in, so he went about completing the miniscule amount of tasks around the community. And since you didn't want to spend the day lazing around without him, you decided to join your partner on his stubborn venture.

However, as you brushed past the crossbow-wielding archer to grab one of the crates to bring into the pantry, your behind brushing ever so slightly against his front, Daryl wished you had decided to spend the day like the rest of the community. Although you were helping, and he certainly appreciated your help, you were being a major, hot as hell distraction, and he was two seconds away from dropping the crate of cherries he was carrying, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you back to your shared house to indulge in the fantasies his mind was conjuring up the longer he stared at you.

Daryl felt like a perfect fool for even thinking of things like that while the two of you were supposed to be working. You barely even acknowledged his presence, too caught up with your own tasks to do so, and there he was, ogling you like an inexperienced school boy with a dumb crush on the popular girl. Admittedly, the outfit you had chosen to wear that day certainly didn't help his problem at all. The shorts you were wearing left just enough covered for his imagination to run wild, and your tank top hugged you in all the right ways, your cleavage covered but also showing just enough skin to have him licking his lips to keep them wet. Whether you had worn that particular outfit just to tease him and punish him for not complying with your request to stay indoors that day, he didn't know. What he did know, was that he desperately wanted to tear that shirt from your body, and work his way down to—

“I was thinking,” your voice rang through the air, effectively snapping the huntsman from his provocative train of thought. You had stepped back into the part of the pantry that temporarily housed the crates the two of you were hoisting and sorting out. “Tomorrow, when we go on that run, we should swing by that store we saw a few weeks ago. You know, the one that had all those kiddie pools? It would be nice to bring a couple of them back for the kids so that they don't have to suffer in this weather.”

“Yeah,” Daryl began, his eyes following you as you bent over to pick up your water bottle, your shorts riding up ever so slightly and driving him mad. He should just shoot himself at that moment and spare himself the misery you were putting him through. He cleared his throat, put the crate of cherries he held in his hands down on the ground and tried to focus back on the conversation at hand. “Yeah, sounds good.”

You smiled at him and took a sip from the water bottle that held some cherry flavoured drink you had made that morning with the same cherries the two of you were busy with in the pantry. You accidentally spilled some of the drink, and the droplets trickled down your chin and onto your chest, soon disappearing down your shirt. Daryl's eyes followed the droplets that trickled down your shirt, inhaling sharply when you tried to brush the wetness away, slightly pulling your shirt down and exposing some of your bra. God, you were driving him completely insane.

You looked up again and locked eyes with Daryl, and you smirked slightly at the sight of him. He was tightly gripping the shelf to his right, his knuckles turning white at the force he was bestowing on them. His breathing was heavier than usual, and he not-so-subtly adjusted his jeans. Good, your plan was working.

“Daryl, are you okay?” you asked him ‘innocently’, walking up to him and barely containing your smirk when you heard him inhale sharply. “You look a little flushed. Maybe you should sit down for a bit.”

Daryl licked his lips as he stared down at you, his vantage point giving him a clear view down your shirt. However, Daryl forced himself not to think like that. “Yeah, m'fine, Sweetheart. Why do ya ask?” he told you, trying to convince both you and himself. “And m'jus' a lil' hot, s'all. Nothin' to worry 'bout.”

“Are you sure?” you asked him while looking up at him through your eyelashes while maintaining your innocent act.

Daryl nodded quickly. “Yeah, m'sure. Ya dun' gotta worry 'bout me. I'll be alrigh'.”

“Okay, if you're sure.” You took a few steps backwards, sending him a mischievous smile. “By the way, you should probably focus more on sorting out these crates than staring at my ass. And my boobs, for that matter.” Daryl's eyes widened at your words. He started stuttering out words of denial, claiming he wasn't staring, but you simply waved him off. “No need to deny it, Daryl. Besides, I'd be offended if you didn't stare. I didn't wear this outfit for Spencer, after all.”

Realization dawned on Daryl. He shook his head and cursed himself for not figuring it out sooner. This was your version of revenge for him deciding not to stay in with you. Under no normal circumstances would you ever wear an outfit like that while doing chores around the community. It all suddenly made perfect sense to the archer.

“Ya did this on purpose?” Daryl asked in an accusing tone, shaking his head when you simply sent him a smug smile. “Yer a damn tease, ya know tha'?”

In a surge of confidence, you dipped down to grab a cherry from the crate Daryl had put on the ground. You stepped forward and looped an arm around Daryl's neck, staring deeply into his ocean coloured eyes as you slowly and sensually bit down into the sweet fruit. A mischievous, teasing smirk rested on your face as you heard Daryl let out a shaky breath, and you pressed your body impossibly closer to your partner's, successfully eliciting a small groan from him when you put just the slightest bit of pressure on his growing erection. “I know,” you whispered in a sultry voice, throwing the stem of the small fruit away to loop your other arm around his neck as well. “That's the whole point. Consider it payback for not staying in with me today. I had so much planned for us today, so many fun activities, but you just had to be your selfless self and do this.”

Daryl gulped and stared down into your eyes, his pupils dilating with each passing second. His hands rested on your hips, his grip tightening at your words. “Wha' activities did ya have in mind?”

Your smirk widened and you leaned up to let your lips hover over his, just barely grazing against his. Daryl's breathing stopped at that action, his eyes following your every movement. “Well,” you began in a seductive whisper, one of your hands trailing down his chest, his stomach and stopping just above the tent that was forming in his jeans. “Let's just say, it's not exactly something people would consider kid-friendly.”

Daryl's heart sped up at your confirmation. He pulled back from you and turned around to pick up the crate he had put down, before looking back at you expectantly. “We have a job to do. Let's get this over and done with, yeah? Then we can go home. The other chores'll have to wait 'till tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened at the pace he had started working at, the smirk on your face ever present. “What? I thought you wanted to get everything done today. Isn't that why you didn't want to stay in with me?”

“Jus' quit smackin' yer red lips and help me, won't ya?”

You giggled and sprung into action, eager to finish up with what you were busy with and to return home with your partner to do something way more exciting than sorting out crates. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” Daryl praised you, sending heat straight down to your core.

Daryl was a selfless man by nature. But just that once, he wanted to indulge in something meant just for him, and that something was the two of you, naked as the day you were born, in bed, limbs tangled together. And Daryl would be damned if he let that opportunity slip between his fingers.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[komsomolka]

Since the early days of the Soviet Union, the Bolsheviks and later communist parties everywhere placed a great emphasis on culture and on the contribution cultural workers could make to the building of socialism. One of the first things the Soviet Army of occupation did at the end of the war, was attempt to resuscitate cultural activity in a war-ravaged and demoralised Germany. The one thing the Russians could never get their head around was how a country with such a high level of culture, a nation that had produced a Bach and a Beethoven, a Goethe and a Schiller could have carried out such barbaric crimes in other countries. The Soviet army had cultural officers attached to each battalion and the war had hardly ended before they began seeking out cultural workers and encouraging them to take up their batons, musical instruments, pens and paintbrushes again. Temporary cinemas were established, orchestras formed, theatres opened and publishing houses set up.

In contrast to West Germany, in the Soviet Zone and later in the GDR, there was also an early emphasis on making films about the Nazi period as a means of educating and informing a nation ignorant of or in denial about what had happened. [...]

The GDR had more theatres per capita than any other country in the world and in no other country were there more orchestras in relation to population size or territory. With 90 professional orchestras, GDR citizens had three times more opportunity of accessing live music, than those in the FRG, 7.5 times more than in the USA and 30 times more than in the UK. It also had one of the world’s highest book publishing figures. This small country with its very limited economic resources, even in the fifties was spending double the amount on cultural activities as the FRG.

Every town of 30,000 or more inhabitants in the GDR had its theatre and cinema as well as other cultural venues. [...] Subsidised tickets to the theatre and concerts were always priced so that everyone could afford to go. Many factories and institutions had regular block-bookings for their workers which were avidly taken up. School pupils from the age of 14 were also encouraged to go to the theatre once a month and schools were able to obtain subsidised tickets. [...]

All towns and even many villages had their own ‘Houses of Culture’, owned by the local communities and open for all to use. These were places that offered performance venues, workshop space and facilities for celebratory gatherings, discos, drama groups etc. There was a lively culture of local music and folk-song groups, as well as classical musical performance.

Stasi State or Socialist Paradise? The German Democratic Republic and What Became of It by Bruni de la Motte & John Green with Seumas Milne (Contributor), 2015.

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

The idea of Heatwave being a Wavewave sparkling but mainly from Soundwave tears me up. So I'll submit you all to my PAIN!!!

The idea of Soundwave growing up in the pits, fighting for his life, becoming a top gladiator but still being seen as the lowest of the lowest, but then, this Sparkling appears in his life. A little red bot who seemingly was abandoned or was not picked when it emerged from the All Spark.

That being their first meeting, Soundwave was not yet the Soundwave we know so he didn't know what to do. His best hope was that the little bot would end just like him, surviving on its own... or just die with no pain. After all, there was no one else but him, just him, and Ravage too ofc but really no one else...

So, imagine how stupid must he have felt as he took the sparkling from the ground and was unable to put it down. Ravage in the background wheezing as she realizes what has happened ¨Oh yea, that's how I adopted you too HAHAHAHAH¨

And things well get hard. Why did he do it? Was it some left kindness on him? Did he lose his mind? or maybe, he just compasioned...?

Time passes, he keeps fighting, Ravage keeps being annoying but is still there for him, and the Sparkling now going by the name Heatwave, was there too looking from afar. Soundwave had decided that the little Bot would not participate in the arena, he would just watch and learn.

Heatwave was amazed at the way his ¨creator¨ fought other bots who were bigger than him and much more robust in comparison. Tho he didn't wish to become a gladiator just like his creator, but he still wanted to show how strong he was helping others.

Time passes, they're a small ¨family¨ for all they can say, but they are very strong and united. In every fight, Soundwave participates in the entertainment of the upper classes, he kept in reserve credits so that one day Heatwave can leave the pits and form a real life outside the misery. It would of course be a slow process, but Soundwave knew that he could do it.

A big surprise was when Heatwave shared with him that he wanted to become a Rescue Bot, a particular job that didn't really fit in any of the class rankings that Cybertron had been using... it was a job that came with intense training that if failed, all the blame would go to the bot who failed and not to the institution who trained them. A job that was more chosen to do for the pure of one spark than the want to win something. Such was that it was known that the High Council would prefer losing 5 Rescue Bot units than one Council member.

The job was clearly going to be a dead sentence, but after a long discussion, there were not many options like the Rescue recruit institutions offered to give a semi-normal life to low-class citizens... at least, for the time Heatwave would be trained he would have a home with basic needs, and once out of training and to the practice, the payment would be enough to even feed Ravage.

Soundwave still didn't want to say yes. to give Heatwave permission, but, Heatwave was just hotheaded, he was promising that with this he would be able to give Soundwave the life he could not grow up with... the life he gave to Heatwave...

Soundwave still saved credits as he kept participating in the arena, just in case.

Time seemed to fly through this change. Heatwave met his assigned team and close friends, Soundwave met new bots too, aspiring and strong allies for both of them. Yet, their ideals seemed to change as their lives grow appart.

They still saw each other, they kept communicating, and Ravage always reminded one or the other to call. But things just can't stay calm forever. The pits and many parts of Cybertron considered for the lower cast were being destroyed, homes and families being displeased so the upper class could take those areas. Slowly, a revolution was being armed with strong bots taking the lead. One in particular, Megatronus, wanted Soundwave as his second in command as he saw potential in him.

Soundwave wanted to decline at first. This could endanger Heatwave in many levels if it was known that they both were family. Megatronus seemed to understand, and it seemed that someone else would take Soundwave's place as SIC... is it wasn't for that one call...

The call that changed forever Soundwave's perspective on life and on his own decisions. It was from the Rescue recruitment system that chose Heatwave informing him of... the red bot dead, with the rest of his team...

Rescue Sigma-17 had been deployed to help another unit very far away, and as it seemed that the job was being completed, the communication began to cut. In short, all signals were lost and no vital was detected. Both units had been gone enough time to be declared deceased...

There was not going to be any effort on further location or send a 3 unit with more equipment to help or to at least know what happened. There was not going to be any effort on finding Heatwave's body for a proper funeral, his stuff as the stuff of his team would be tossed or given to their creators. That being said, Soundwave and Ravage received nothing but a big box full of credits, enough to live a luxurious life in the middle class...

It had a note from Heatwave. Just like Soundwave was saving for an emergency, Heatwave had been doing the same. Probably not eating or working extra to have this amount of credits...

... Soundwave tossed all that in their faces not accepting a damn. As fast as he could he went to Megatronus and began their plan to attack...

...

...

...

At light years far away, after more tragedy had occurred. A small ship floating in the middle of nothing received a message that redirected t it to a planet called Earth.

Landing, four bots from stasis had awakened to see the beauty of an organic planet and to encounter a figure not many would be able to talk to, Optimus Prime.

[sorchathered]

The Willows Never Stopped Weeping for You

Pairing-Tyler Owens x female OC (Olivia Wright)

Warnings- language, drinking, angst, death, injury, smut

Summary- Olivia let Tyler go to carry out his dreams, but broke his heart in the process. What happens when in the wreckage of a little small town he learns the real reason she left him, and how do they repair it?

A/N- we back at it again on the angst train, third week in a row lol!! I really loved this one, twisters was so good and I am excited to start writing for the fandom! As always, like, comment, reblog anything to let me know what you think!

“We’ve gotta get the hell out of dodge, we can’t sit here any longer Ty!” Dani is panicked, sweat dripping from their brow as they tremble, eyes wild and afraid of what will happen if they don’t make it out.

“I can’t- I can’t leave without her goddamnit and you know it, go ahead of me, you gotta trust me! We will make it out of here, get everyone to safety Dan, I’m serious get the hell out of here!” He yells over the roar of the wind, shoving them towards the rv and as much as it pains the crew, they know Tyler would die in this storm before he ever left Olivia behind. She was his everything, he’d loved her his whole life, and even if things were broken between them he would die a thousand times over to make sure she was safe.

——————————————————————

The crew had been up and down the state the past few weeks, working together with Javi and his crew to test out Kate’s theory and it had been one hell of a ride. They’d mostly been able to help keep the damage to a minimum, but as always with storms like these it was always a risk.

The little town on the outskirts of Enid had been ravaged more than once, but this storm seemed to be hell bent on taking whatever was left of the small community and turning it to rubble. So many injured, and so many homes and businesses destroyed, it seemed like a no-brainer that the government would send aid relief workers to help repair the damage, but what Tyler Owens hadn’t foreseen was the bright green eyes and auburn hair of his first love as he helped people in the aftermath.

Olivia Wright had been his everything since he was fourteen years old, occupied every one of his dirty fantasies and dreams of the future. He’d never been more sure of anyone in his life, until they’d crashed and burned so spectacularly shortly after college. He’d fallen in love with storm chasing, his dreams of working for the NWS had turned into something else entirely as he and the crew of misfits he migrated to became more and more obsessed with the beauty and danger these storms brought.

Liv had their whole future planned, finish college, get married. Ty would work for the NWS and she would become a nurse, fulfilling your passion to help people and getting to be by his side while he pursued his passion for meteorology. The two of them were growing apart, everyone could see it but him, and she knew she’d have to be the one to let go, he was always bigger than the whole sky and Liv couldn’t bear to keep him down. So she broke his heart and her own, and in that time she watched him flourish. His channel and all of his friends, the articles written about his discoveries, she watched it all with rapt attention, he was living out his dreams and Liv couldn’t have been more proud. Eventually she had to decide what was best for her, and watching storms ravage communities just like hers in Arkansas became too much to bear, working in disaster relief and helping to save lives became her passion, she kept her head down and let the work take over, but never lost hope that one day she’d run smack dab into that man that was as wild as the western wind.

It had happened less like a rom com and more like a horror movie, he’d seen her first and lost his cool immediately, ducking under an awning and scrambling to find somewhere, anywhere else to be but near her. Lily, who had been both of their friends in college couldn’t quite figure out what the hell was wrong with him, but it didn’t take long to spot her bright hair and the FEMA t-shirt Liv was sporting as she handed out water to a group not far from theirs.

“Oh my God is that my Livvy?!” She shrieked as she ran for her friend, the two of them erupting in giggles and swaying each other in the midst of the debris-covered road.

“Lily bug!! Oh my goodness what are y’all doing here?! I thought from your last video you guys were over near Lawton!” She said, smacking a hand over her mouth as she realized she’d given herself away already.

“Ooh so you have been watching hmm? Come say hi to everyone cutie pie, it’s been too long and we need to catch up.” She pulled her along but Liv tried to dig her heels in, wild green eyes panicked.

“I can’t intrude Lils, and I don’t want to make Tyler uncomfortable, I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me” she says as she puts both hands up in surrender but Lily is having none of it.

“Nope, you don’t get to pussy out Olivia, life is too short and you know it. Now come on! I want to hear all about your life, and Dani makes some bomb ass burritos so you should try to eat something, it’s gonna be a long day babygirl.

————————————————————-

He somehow manages to avoid her like the plague all day, catching glimpses here and there but mostly staying close to Kate and Javi, much to Lily's frustration if the glares she’s cut at him all afternoon are any indication.

Livvy wasn’t quite sure what to make of it; she had been watching them for so long online that she felt like she knew the crew personally, they were some of the kindest people she’d ever met and it wasn’t lost on her that all of them had been brought together by Ty. He’d made himself a family, it was just another thing that she had missed her chance on and she couldn’t help but feel a little emotional over it.

When Kate had come over to introduce herself later in the evening, it had been obvious to Olivia that she and Tyler had something going on. It was hard to dislike her, she was beautiful and kind, and smart as a whip from what Liv could tell. Definitely perfect for him, so after a while of watching them all interact and being all but ignored by her oldest friend, it got to be too much and she found a way to make her escape, using an early morning as an excuse and holing up in her motel room to lick her wounds and cry.

Lily chases after her with another nasty glare in Tyler’s direction, everyone had questions now and he couldn’t give them, waving them off with a middle finger as he stumbled through the parking lot, a little tipsy and feeling an ache in his chest that he’d thought he’d healed from.

“Liv! Stop damnit, I know this shit is hard but just talk to me honey, tell me.” Lily shouts into the crowded lot and watches her friend's shoulders sag as she turns with tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Oh Lily.” She lets out a ragged breath and lets it all wash over her, everything she’s left unsaid and held deep inside. “I could never deny him happiness, if it’s not with me that’s OK, it’s been a long time and I’ve learned to accept it. If Kate makes him happy then of course I want that for him. I never stopped loving him, so of course I would always want what’s best for him. It wasn’t right back then Lily, that kinda love was unpredictable. We were growing together like two gnarled trees, neither of us were helping the other reach our potential and I had to let him go so we didn’t end up hating each other. “ A shudder runs through her at the declaration, tears are threatening to seep from her eyes but she won’t give them the satisfaction.

“That sounds like horseshit and you know it” Lily says she jabs her finger into Liv’s shoulder, her eyes are full of fire. Liv knows she means well, she’s always been a good man in the storm, someone you want in your corner when things get hard which is why she’s so glad that Tyler has her. Liv lets her shoulders sag and look at Lily full of defeat.

“I can’t change it now, even if I wish I could.”

“Do you wish you could?” She says with raised eyebrow and Olivia gives her a little nod.

“Every day. I miss him every day.” Tears well up in her eyes and she shivers as the wind blows through the camp, but she won’t let the pain overtake her, she made her choice and she can only hope that he’ll be happy.

Olivia doesn’t see it but Lily does, Tyler is half hidden behind the RV, he’s heard it all and she watches as his face goes from grief stricken to angry turning on his heel as he walks off into the dark, the weight of her confession breaking his heart all over again.

—————————————————

He paces the concrete hallway of the motel for what feels like hours, letting the weight of what she said run over him. Had he really been so blind? Olivia hadn’t wanted to let him go, and he’d never thought to question it when she pushed him away. He had been hurt and stubborn, shutting down immediately and saying some of the meanest things he could hurl at her to hurt her back. In hindsight he should have known she was just trying to give him the ability to do what he wanted, but just the fact that she had convinced herself that she was what was holding him back made a fire rage in him. Sure it would have been hard to manage, but they could’ve handled it! They could handle anything together, he’d always told her that, why she would have ever thought otherwise was something he couldn’t reconcile with.

He was at her door before he could stop himself, rapping sharply on the peeling metal and praying that she would listen. The sounds of the lock being undone told him she was still awake, the door swinging open to reveal her puffy tear stained face, hair up in a messy knot on her head and an oversized t shirt full of holes, one that had definitely belonged to him.

“Why are you here Ty? You’d had all day to say something to me, and you waited until midnight?” She said with a sniffle, there was no point in trying to hide what she’d been doing, it was all over her face and his heart clenched in his chest knowing he’d hurt her again.

“You didn’t want us to end, did you?” He said gruffly, he wasn’t leaving until he got his answers, he needed to know the truth.

“What does it matter now? You’re with Kate-“ she said as more tears formed, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as though she was trying to hold herself together.

“I’m not. We tried it, but she’s got her own demons to work out, and we agreed it would be better to be friends. Answer my question baby, I need to hear it. Do you still want me?” He was leaning in close to the door frame now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body and smell the beer on his breath. Liv let out a ragged breath and nodded, that was all he needed to push the door the rest of the way open and pull her into his arms, kicking the door shut behind him as he pressed kisses to her cheek and neck while she held on for dear life. Sobs wracked her body as he sat down on the creeky mattress, pulling her into his lap as he rocked her side to side.

“My sweet girl” he murmured into her hair, he let her cry it all out until she relaxed in his grip, tipping her chin up to look at him as he stroked her cheek.

“I never stopped hoping for this, I didn’t want to hold you back but- I can’t stay away anymore. I-I love you Ty, I always will.” She stuttered and he let out a groan as he pressed his mouth to hers, flipping them both so she was on her back and spread out for him, she’d been the star of every fantasy he’d ever had, and nothing would ever be as good as the real thing.

“I never stopped either Livvy girl, can I have you? Please baby I- I need it, need to show you how much I missed you.” He looks wrecked, hair a mess and eyes wild, and she can’t stop herself from pulling him down to her, licking into his mouth and running her hands over his broad shoulders, watching him shiver in her embrace as he grinds down into her.

They make up for all the time lost, re-learning each other's bodies until the early morning, finally coming up for air when Tyler’s phone begins to go off with weather alerts and texts from Boone.

“Looks like there’s another cell coming this way, we need to get these people to safety while we can.” He says with a sigh as he rolls his body off of hers, she’s sated and happy as she stretches her limbs like a cat and moans, he feels himself twitch in his boxers as he watches her. She’s like a siren, calling him back to her and he wants nothing more to than to stay right here between the sheets and ravage her again.

“Stop looking at me like that Owens, or we’ll never get out of here in time” she playfully punches his chest and he lets out a hearty laugh, they’d have plenty of time to talk and catch up, he wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight anytime soon.

“Ok, ok sugar, let’s get back out here, storms a comin’ and times a wastin’.”

——————————————————————-

He should have known. He should have known they’d never get that lucky, especially knowing how unpredictable the storms had been this season.

They thought they’d had more time, weather warnings saying the tornado would likely just pass the town, but it had all gone wrong. What had started out as one had turned into two, splitting off and causing maximum damage to what was left of the area. He’d lost Liv and Boone somewhere along the way, Kate and Javi and the rest of the crew were safely out of danger, but somehow the twister had gotten between his truck and yours, and when the dust had settled you and Boone were nowhere to be found.

He was sick, bile crawling up his throat as he trembled, they’d been searching the perimeter when he’d heard Boone screaming for help, tearing through the field of corn to find your upturned truck, mangled and covered in broken glass. Boone had tried his best to pull you from the wreckage, but his shoulder was mangled; most likely dislocated from the crude angle it hung from.

Tyler pulled Olivia’s limp body out and heard a sharp gasp from her, she was alive, that was good. At least that was what he thought until he got her in his arms and saw the jagged shrapnel wedged in her abdomen, blood flowing like a water hose from the wound, way too much to be a minor wound. She kept lolling her head back and forth as she tried to lift her hand to his face, god there was blood everywhere, he couldn’t take the metal out, what if that made it worse? He yelled for Boone to give him his shirt, tears pouring from his eyes as he tried to stop the bleeding, but it just wouldn’t stop coming.

“Livvy, baby look at me ok?” He says with a gentle pat to her cheek, her eyes keep rolling around in her head as she tries to focus on something, anything, but she just can’t seem to get there.

Finally she seems to see him through her unfocused bloodshot eyes, a small victory and he breathes for the first time since he found her.

“Oh god, Ty there’s so much blood! What happened? Are- are you ok? How do we stop it? We need help!” She cries out as her body shakes in his arms, she’s going into shock and bleeding to death but is still selfless to the end, always worried about everyone but herself.

He’s sobbing so hard now he can hardly speak, just kissing whatever skin he can get to as he holds her tightly, still pressing hard into the gaping wound despite knowing it won’t do anything to stop the inevitable. He’s going to lose her, and he just got her back.

A scream comes from somewhere, Tyler jolting awake from the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. He’s drenched in sweat, and his neck aches, as he looks around the dimly lit room he realizes the scream came from him. He’s replayed that awful night over and over for the past three days, it ends with Olivia choking on her own blood as she fades away and he can’t seem to make his brain understand that while it definitely happened that way, the end result wasn’t quite so gruesome. She’s alive, unconscious, but alive. How EMS found them in time will consume his thoughts for a good long while. He’d been so sure he’d lost her but the miracles just kept coming because somehow the doctors were able to save her and had assured him that though recovery would be long and hard she would in fact recover.

—————————————————————

Months later he would still be convinced it was all just a dream, the nightmares had ceased but the jagged scar along Olivia’s sternum would always be there to remind him of how close he’d come to losing it all.

He lived for chasing storms, he’d convinced himself it was everything he’d ever need after she’d left, but he’d been so wrong.

She’d never ask him to give it up, but he didn’t know if he could continue to run after something that had nearly taken everything from him. He and Kate took a job consulting with the NWS on her research after Ben’s article got traction, and he left his truck to Boone to continue the legacy and the channel. He wanted to prevent the storms from happening before they started and he knew with Kate’s research and the grants from the government they could really dig in and make a difference.

He asked her to marry him on her birthday, 6 months after the accident and she’d said yes before he could even finish his speech. The future hadn’t been linear like he thought, he didn’t have to accept what he thought he deserved and finally allowed himself to accept what he wanted. Olivia Wright Owens sounded damn good to him, and maybe one day a house full of babies. Yeah he could definitely make that his new dream.

Tagging- @sailor-aviator @goldenseresinretriever @hangmanapologist @roosterforme @trickphotography2 @mynameismckenziemae @seitmai @sebsxphia @im-just-ken @kmc1989 @jessicab1991 @dizzybee03 @nouis-bum @attapullman @bobgasm @floydsglasses @withahappyrefrain

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

I've seen many people say it's weird that Onyx was allowed to join JMA because she's an adult and I don't agree. Why? I come from a country that was ravaged by war just a few decades ago. One of the first things I learned in history classes is that once the war ended, community schools were opened everywhere as part of a campaign to improve literacy rate. People of all age were encouraged to join so they can learn how to read, write, do basic maths, etc. But photos taken of classes from that time show that most of the students were adults, not children. Because shocker, they couldn't learn any of those things as kids, hiding in bomb shelters and starving or risking their lives as child soldiers

Compare that to the settings of JMA and Pyrrhia at the start of arc 2 and you'll see lots of similarities. Pyrrhia had just escaped a devastating war that involved every tribe and affected countless lives. JMA was built by the DoD to essentially combat the consequences of the war, not illiteracy exactly, but the hatred and fear that lingered among dragons. With that goal in mind, it would make less sense if they only accept dragonets. Sure there were plenty of child soldiers we saw in arc 1, but so many more were adults who got drafted, and who knows how many of them got drafted as children and spent their entire childhood killing and watching their loved ones being killed

(Honestly if racism wasn't so common and JMA wasn't an intertribal school, it would definitely have more adults willingly joining)

Now obviously, Onyx wasn't one of those dragons, but she was still a victim of the Sandwing Succession war. She was forced to spend nearly all of her life living as a fugitive because her mother wanted to wait till either Burn, Blaze, or Blister take the throne. Unfortunately for both of them, none of the princesses wanted to settle the matter quickly and chose to drag the whole continent into their family drama instead. Then suddenly the war ended, her mother died (hilariously), and a nice little academy made by a bunch of very special dragonets was opened to everyone. Onyx could easily walk up to the front door of JMA and convince the DoD to let her in by going "queen Oasis exiled me and my mom when she was still alive and then the war happened and now my mom is dead and I don't know how to read 🥺". Sunny and Clay would welcome her in a heartbeat. Plus having an adult student in the academy could give them some much needed credibility

.

[hauntedhokage]

╰┈☆ Spring Fever ☆┈╯

summary: Alex has baby fever 

word count: 3.9k

warnings: breeding, plans for pregnancy, unprotected sex, table sex, fingering, oral(fem recieving) overstimulation, Alex likes to talk, mentions of somno at the end

note: Do I know where this came from? No. But I recently got back on a Stardew kick and my faves have shifted to Alex and Sam rather than Seb and Shane so...here's this.

ao3

You’d talked about children and wanting them soon after the wedding, but your vision was to start trying a couple seasons after being married while Alex’s was clearly just a couple hours after you’d exchanged your vows and ate a bit with the town. Which, after you’d thought about it a week or so later, you were okay with.  

The true high point of your wedding day for you was when Alex had snuck away with you to head home to your farmhouse, barely making it onto your property before he had your dress unzipped and his own pants undone so he could consummate your marriage. The whole time telling you how perfect you were and how lucky he was, how he could only focus on you and how beautiful you looked in your pretty white dress. His pretty girl, pretty wife, and he was going to make you a pretty mother. 

Then came the Flower Dance. What had started as a fertility ritual turned into a more of a tribute event to generations past, but Evelyn had certainly been in your ear regarding the true purpose of the event. She wanted you pregnant just as badly as Alex did, and you knew your tea tasted different when you two went to visit because of the herbs that were supposed to promote fertility (only because Alex was making the same tea for you to drink at bedtime). She’d also been telling Alex more frequently that he had to help more around the farm to keep stress off your body so you could get pregnant easier, even though Alex had already taken over all of the heavy lifting and tending to the livestock so you wouldn’t have to. 

When the day comes, you get ready in the dress that you wore every year, this time without panties on underneath since you knew the additional barrier would just get torn as soon as Alex had a free moment to take you somewhere private. The white fabric with a lace trim reminded Alex of your wedding dress and had him feeling you up like he had when you wore the more formal gown just a few weeks prior. And when his hands slid up your thighs you’d lifted the skirt just enough to show him what he had waiting for him later, not at all caring that you were in the middle of the forest while heading to the dance. 

“I’m ovulating, babe.”

“Why the fuck aren’t we at home then?” The grin on his face was salacious at best, deviant at worst, and you’re confident that if you were still on your property you’d be lying in the grass or held up against a tree as he ravaged you in hopes of finally getting you pregnant. “Honey, we can-“

“Your grandmother wants us at the dance, so we’re going to the dance or else she’ll worry and then walk in on you railing me on the front porch. Besides, a little extra blessing from Yoba never hurts, right?.”

He is only doing this for his grandmother now, since he never wanted her to have to worry about him - or his wife - ever. So he nods, letting you take his hand and lead him through the forest in your pretty white dress that he knows has no panties underneath to block him from what he wanted most in that moment. But he was going to be good, going to socialize and show off his beautiful wife, and perform the Flower Dance like he’d never danced it before. Yoba help him, he was getting you pregnant today.  

His eyes are on you through the whole event, and you feel his predatory gaze as you chat with Robin about future renovations to the farmhouse. Specifically a nursery since you and Alex had been actively trying for a baby now, the news making her light up like the Winter Star tree had been. It was a pretty big deal in a small community, so you’re not surprised when you’ve got Caroline and Jodi also watching with excited smiles as Alex comes up behind you while you’re now chatting with Evelyn. She’s always excited to see how affectionate you and Alex were throughout your whole relationship, turning to George to mention how cute the two of you were. 

“Just like we were, honey. Aren’t they cute?”

“Sure are.” It’s as close as you’ll get to a compliment, but in George’s own way he’s just as excited about your relationship with his grandson as Evelyn is. 

Then the dance starts, you wink from where you’re standing between Maru and Emily while your hands fiddle with the hem of your dress. It’s a reminder that when he gives you a twirl that he’s got to be careful about the fact that you’re not wearing panties - the last thing you wanted was to flash the entire town. But he still puts everything he’s got into performing, excited to have his hands on you again and making sure to caress your sides and stomach whenever he can in his own prayer to Yoba that this works. He needs this to work, he needs to see you pregnant with his child.  

It’s all he can think about. 

Not one of the married couples is surprised when you leave the event early, Alex having had enough of socializing when he could’ve been filling you repeatedly all morning. You only ovulated for a couple days, or at least that’s what he thought, so he had to make the most of the time he did have when you had a greater chance of conceiving. 

“If you rip this dress I will kill you before you meet your child,” you warn as you start up the stairs to your front door. He’s obedient as he picks you up, the scoop effortless with his one arm as he opens the door to carry you in while his mouth seeks yours for the kiss he’s been wanting since the dance. The first available surface was the kitchen table, he’s flipping the skirt of your dress up before setting you down to eliminate the risk of ripping the fabric you apparently cherished. His kiss grows hungrier, eagerly sucking at your tongue as his hands slide up your thighs to where your uncovered mound waited for his fingers. 

“Why’d you like this dress so much?”

“I wear it to the flower dance every year,” you start, biting your lip when his fingers glide up your already dripping slit. “Wore it on our first date, too.”

“I spilled my drink on you, how’s it not-“

“You only drank water back then!” Your laugh is infectious, and he’s grinning at you as his fingers part your folds. “You could honestly just fuck me outright, wanna feel you.”

“Wanna do this right. Wanna make love to you all fuckin’ night and into the morning. And all day tomorrow if we can swing it.”

“Crops.”

“Sprinklers. And I’ll tend to the animals while you take a break.” 

Any response you have is cut off by your moan when two fingers push into your waiting pussy without much resistance. His efforts from the night before had served you well, and he loves the way your mouth falls open as his thick digits explore the warm walls that welcomed them so nicely. One of your hands grips the edge of the table, the other tangling in the hair at the back of his head to pull him in closer. His forehead rests against yours, noses brushing against each other and your breathy moans ghost across his lips in the sweetest symphony. Gone were the days that you had to be quiet in his grandparents’ house, now were the days where he could bring all of those beautiful sounds out of you with his fingers. 

“Alex,” you whisper, trying your best to keep your eyes open when his fingers curl just right to have you squeezing around his fingers so tight he can only smirk as his thumb connects with your clit. “A-Alex, please.”

“Gotta make you cum. You’ll let me, right baby?”

You can’t deny him when he looks at you like that, dark irises peeking out through his eyelashes - gaze just as hungry as it was every time he got to have you like this. He made you feel like the only woman in the world, his touches firm but gentle - like one of his grandmother’s figurines that he was terrified to drop but also wouldn’t hold too tightly that it’d break in his grip. Kisses that took your breath away but breathed new life into you, and love equivalent to the way one might worship a goddess. You were his goddess, a blessing upon his life that he thanked Yoba for every single day he woke up with you still tucked into his arms. 

“I’m so in love with you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his neck and lightly scratching at his hairline. “Take such good care of me.”

“And I will for the rest of our lives. You, our children, nothing is going to go neglected while I’m around.” 

And you know that’s true, the way his fingers fuck into you faster, thumb rolling over your clit in tight circles with more pressure that has your hand holding his neck tighter and nails digging into the skin there as you tried to hold off your orgasm. “C’mon, show me how pretty you are when you cum on my fingers.”

That familiar feeling is almost overwhelming, the heat in your core and the uncontrollable clenching of your lower body almost painful as you tighten up around his hand. He lets you shut your legs, trapping his hand between your thighs as he tries to help you ride it out but the best he can do is alternate between scissoring his fingers and stroking at your fluttering walls until you finally relax enough that he can withdraw his fingers to bring them to his lips. With his forehead still resting against yours, he’s close enough that you can lean forward a bit to lick at the creamy essence he’d collected from you. You liked it better when he had his cum on his fingers too, but your taste was still close to intoxicating when you could taste his skin with it. 

You miss him immediately when he pulls away from you, the body heat that radiates off of him is gone and makes you feel the slight draft in the kitchen that you hadn’t gotten around to fixing. The way he lowers himself to his knees in front of you tells you exactly what would be coming next; but first he carefully removes the flats you were wearing, taking a moment to massage both of your feet to try and ease the discomfort those particular shoes caused, then places the most delicate of kisses to the inside of your right ankle. 

His eyes close as he kisses along your leg, starting off with chaste pecks that turn into open mouthed kisses mid-way up your calf, then gentle nips are introduced to the inside of your thigh once he reaches your knee. Large hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the table as you’re draping your legs over his broad shoulders. Those eyes open again to meet yours as he licks a long stripe up your slit to your still sensitive clit. His hands keep your body planted in the table, halting the jump that your hips did involuntarily at the contact. He grins up at you, nuzzling his nose against the sensitive nerve bundle and relishing in the whine that leaves you. So cute, but you weren’t going anywhere until you came on his tongue.

Your hand is in his hair the moment his tongue dips between your folds to get a taste of the mess he’d helped you make, grip tightening when he groans at how fucking good you tasted. That’s all the encouragement he needs to bury his face into your core, making out with your dripping cunt while his thumb comes to circle your clit again. His name leaves you in a whine, heels digging into his back before he backs off with a smack of his lips, reading places with his fingers so he can suck on your clit while he pushes three fingers into you. By now you’re sopping wet, giving almost no resistance to his intrusion and making him smile against your skin as you stare down at him. 

“Feelin’ good, baby?”

“Mhm,” is all you can muster, a weak hum that he wouldn’t normally accept but these were special circumstances. Your walls are fluttering around his fingers, feeling so sweet but he wants them around his cock so he needs you to cum. “Fuck, Alex. Feel s’good.”

“I know, pretty girl. Need you to cum for me again.”

And the way you cry when you do sounds wonderful, your hands gripping his hair so tight he’s sure you’d pulled some out so the pain only spurs him on as you ride it out against his face. You were so hot, it’s all he can think about as he looks up at your face to hold your eye contact.

“Can you please come fuck me now?” 

“Anything for you.” 

And he means it. Ever since he’d first kissed you he knew that he’d move mountains for you if you’d asked him to - he’d have to train a lot, but he’d make it happen. 

The way your hands cup his face brings him true comfort, soft and warm and reserved for him. Your thumb grazed his bottom lip to gather the essence that left a pretty shine to his lip, pulling a moan from him when you pushed that digit between his lips so he could taste you on your finger. 

“Sweeter when it’s you,” he mumbles, lining himself up with your waiting entrance but unable to resist dragging his tip between your slick folds to tease your clit some more. 

“Sweeter when it’s you,” is your counter, pulling your thumb from his mouth but replacing it quickly with your own in an open mouthed kiss that has him dizzy as he finally pushes in. Your breathy moan into his mouth only spurs him on, his own noises vibrating around your joined tongues as his hips push themselves flush against yours. 

You were heaven, his own personal heaven was when he was like this with you, eyes on yours as he watched you adjust to his intrusion. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

“Y-yeah?” you ask, looking down to where your bodies are joined only to have to bunch your dress up more so you could actually see it. “Already messy.”

“I like you messy, creaming around my cock already because you’re so turned on - beautiful for me.” He’s pulling back slowly as he speaks, brushing his nose against yours in a bunny kiss as you continue to watch his hips move. “So beautiful, baby. So pretty, so good. I love you.”

You smile, looking up at him again as you murmur, “I love you, too, Alex.” 

A moment that almost felt too sweet for the two of you to have while he was balls deep inside you on the kitchen table, but he’s sure that was what made it all the more sweeter. His wife, the farmer; sweeter than any strawberries you could ever harvest or desserts you could bake using the recipes inherited from his grandmother. Stronger than the iridium used to craft your ax, smarter than someone who’d read all the books in the library combined. The woman who loved him, despite it all. 

“Feel good?”

“S’good,” you breathe, your hands moving to his shoulders before they slide to his biceps. “You can start moving. I’m okay.”

“Sure?”

“Uh-huh.” 

Your nod of approval is all he needs to start moving, carefully easing his length out inch by inch until only his head remains, then pushing back in just as slowly. It was going to drive him crazy, it always did, but he wanted to savor every centimeter of you that he could before he had his way with you. 

“I love you,” he whispers, lips brushing yours with every syllable breathed into your mouth. You nod your understanding and agreement, the words replaced by a moan when he starts to thrust faster. “Feel so good, always so good. You wanna have my baby, yeah? Want me to knock you up and make you a mommy?”

“Please, Alex,” you cry into his neck, squeezing around his cock so perfectly. “Pleasepleaseplease- fuck, please.”

“Give me one more,” he breathes, taking in the flush in your face and knowing it would be hard. But you’d do it. You always gave him one more. “Please, baby, just one.”

You bite into his neck as you nod, your fingers pressing into his biceps hard enough that there should be bruises. You were so good, so good for him as he bullied his cock into your pussy.

His fingers find your clit, hard and extremely sensitive if the way your hips jerk on contact was any indicator. But he continues, rubbing tight circles with his thumb that have your jaw clenching and tears building in those eyes that are struggling to stay open through this. It’s only a moment before you’re throwing your head back, gummy walls clenching around him so snugly that he’s got to show his place as he helped you ride it out or else he’d release too soon. 

“So good, so good for me.” And you are; such a perfect wife and lover - so good to him, for him - he wouldn’t want anyone else. 

You’ve barely recovered by the time he’s feeling that coil in his gut tighten, you’d gotten too warm, too tight, felt too good for him to be able to hold on much longer - but he needed another orgasm for you. You’d told him there were benefits to you both cumming at the same time, and he wanted to make sure he took advantage of those benefits whenever he could. “Yoba, baby, I’m so close. You feel so good, so perfect. Give me one more, yeah? One more?”

“Alex.” Is all you whine, and he marvels at how messy he’s made you. Mascara running down those pretty little flushed cheeks, eyes red, and perfectly styled hair now a mess, lips puffy with gloss smeared from his kisses - still beautiful, still perfect, still his. “I-I can’t.”

“You can. Just one, cumming helps get the sperm to your womb.”

You’d told him that, but that fact goes without a reminder. He’s sure you’re not thinking about much of anything when his thumb finds your clit again, and he’s biting into your neck to try and hold on when your pussy squeezes his cock just right. He wasn’t lasting much longer, all he needed was for you to fall apart just one more time. 

“T-That’s - hah - that’s it.” His hand grips your thigh, angling your hips up a bit that allows him to thrust just that much deeper into you, his tip just barely brushing your cervix in a way that has you tightening around him just that much more. “Feel good?”

His fingers are moving faster against your clit, fingers pressed harder into your skin with his firm grip. His eyes stay on your face, contorted with the mix of pleasure and pain that you were experiencing due to his urging of one more orgasm. 

“I got you,” he whispers, jaw clenching as he continues to fend off his own orgasm. “I got you, honey. Cum for me, okay?”

“A-Alex, baby,” your keening sends shockwaves down his spine, he’s watching in adoration as your head tilts back and your walls clench around him once more as your body goes completely rigid in his arms. He can’t hold off any longer, shooting ropes of his hot cum deep into your pussy while he holds your hips tight in his hands. He’s babbling as he pushes slow thrusts into your hips, trying to make sure he’d hit his target while telling you how pretty you were and how grateful he was that you were going to have his baby. You felt so good and were so good for him, and he’s sure you’d absorbed every word as your body relaxed into his arms. 

He gently kisses your temple, then your cheek, before pressing the gentlest of kisses to your slightly swollen lips. “You okay?” 

“I’m good. Bed, please,” you murmur, voice horse as you rest your head on his shoulder while his fingers delicately undo the zipper at your back. “Need a nap if we’re going all day.”

“Need some water, too. Drink some out here for me then I can take you to bed.”

A nod into his neck, and he had to pull away so that he could get you that water. You were just going to have to be patient, since he was going to kill multiple birds with one stone and fill his massive insulated water bottle with ice water so you could take it to bed with you. Behind him he can hear you pull the dress over your head, and realizes that’s a great idea considering he was still in his suit and it felt like the Ginger Island volcano in the kitchen. But first, your glass of water is handed over so you could do as he instructed and hydrate while he undressed. 

When he’s stripped down his briefs, the half full glass is handed his way with a gentle demand that he get some water too. The pleased hum that leaves you after he’s downed what was left in just a couple large gulps makes his heart feel light, and he can’t help but lean in to hold your cheeks and pepper your face in little kisses that have tired giggles vibrating against his skin before he’s kissing you gently with all the love he has in his heart. 

Then your arms are around his neck; legs locking around his hips as his arm slips sound your waist with a grip tight enough that he wouldn’t drop you. “C’mon, koala bear, let's get you to bed.”

When he’s got you laid down, covered in a throw blanket that wasn’t as warm or heavy as your duvet, he can relax as he slips into bed beside you. As always, you seek his body out before he can pull you into him, smiling as you tuck your face into his neck and leave a kiss there. 

“See you in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, couple hours sounds good. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Do I have your permission to-“

“Yeah, you can put a load in me if I’m still asleep when you wake up. But leave my clit alone for a few hours.”

“We’re for sure getting you pregnant. Gonna look so cute with that little bump.” He can’t help but whisper into your hair, assuring you that he’d be the best husband to you and father to your children. Grateful to you for loving him like you do, for how you always took care of him too. You’ve fallen asleep but he’s still talking, putting his dreams for your future together out into the universe in hopes that his ideal future would manifest. You’d told him that once, that some things could happen if you spoke them into existence - like how affirmations help change mindsets. 

But you were going to have to teach him how to harvest those fickle melons and collect honey while not agitating the bees that worked so hard to make it. You'd be pregnant through the fall and into winter if he got what he wanted. 

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Olivia Reingold

On October 7, 2024—one year after Hamas invaded Israel, murdering 1,200 people—The New York Times published an episode of its flagship podcast, The Daily. It featured two men on opposite sides of the conflict: an Israeli man who’s moved from hotel to hotel after Hamas destroyed his community, and a father trying to survive in Gaza. 

But while the Israeli man was described in full—as a “liberal” 44-year-old father named Golan Abitbul, born and raised on Kibbutz Be’eri, the Palestinian man’s identity was shrouded in secrecy. The New York Times simply referred to him as “Hussein, a Palestinian man living in Gaza.” The host, Sabrina Tavernise, did not ask Hussein any follow-up questions when he revealed that, unlike most Gazans right now, he has “a good income” and is able to pay about $1,000 a month for rent. And she let him explain—uninterrupted—about why, a year later, the war ravages on.

“I’m surprised that there is humans doing this force,” Hussein said of Israeli soldiers, in broken English. “How could human became this evil, killing others, imposing collective punishment on over two million people with no reason? What are they going to gain? Why they are doing this?”

But what Tavernise did not say is that “Hussein” is Hussein Owda, whose name is listed in the show notes on audio platforms that host the podcast, including Spotify and Apple Podcasts. And what The New York Times does not reveal is that Owda’s background suggests links to Hamas. A simple Google search turns up his LinkedIn page, where he publicly lists an eight-year stretch working for the Municipality of Gaza, which sources told me is controlled by Hamas; a new job at the controversy-riddled United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (also known as UNRWA); and an eight-month stint at Muslim Hands, a nonprofit exposed by the UK’s Telegraph in 2014 for having “close ties to the Muslim Brotherhood.” Hamas was originally established in the 1980s as the local Palestinian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood.Hussein Owda (via LinkedIn)

From September 2015 until August 2023, Owda lists his job as the head of public relations for the Municipality of Gaza. “Every government structure in Gaza was run by Hamas,” Jon Schanzer, a former terrorism analyst at the U.S. Department of the Treasury, told me. “The people that were paying his salary ultimately would’ve gone up the chain to Hamas itself.” Schanzer added that Owda, as the former head of public relations for the Municipality of Gaza, likely was “providing propaganda” to advance the mission of Hamas.

Meanwhile, three on-the-ground sources in Gaza—two of whom were provided through The Center for Peace Communications, which has a network of sources in the region—all confirmed to The Free Press that Owda has links to Hamas. One Gazan man who has met Owda said that “Employment at the municipality requires approval from the internal security, the local mosque’s emir, and Qassam Brigades intelligence,” referring to Al-Qassam Brigades, the militant wing of Hamas behind the group’s October 7 attack. Another Palestinian source in Gaza told The Free Press, “It’s impossible to get a job in the municipality unless you’re with Hamas.” (All sources in Gaza asked to withhold their names to protect them from possible retaliation by the terrorist group.)

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Heat

Pairing: Hyrule x Reader

Warning(s): smut (mating cycle and all that jazz)

Masterlist

It was hot, so fucking hot that your very bones broiled with an all-encompassing heat, leaving you completely boneless to the whims of your dear husband, his hands gripping your love handles like there was no tomorrow while his hips pistoned tirelessly against your own. Muttered praises spilled from his mouth like a broken faucet, swirling in a cacophony that filled the heated room just as much as the stench of pheromones.

"So good for me," Hyrule's tone was deeper than you'd ever heard it, laced with enough sin to have you wailing from his words alone. Every thrust sent a new jolt of mind-numbing pleasure up your spine, not to mention the absolutely feral screech he tore from you with a savage pinch to your clit. "That's- ah- it—scream for me."

And so you did, moaning when he bent down to suckle your bouncing teat, mouth enveloping your nipple in a sweltering hold. Saliva dripped down the curve of your breast, leaving searing trails across your skin. Hyrule scraped his teeth over the sensitive bud, pace never faltering, and you felt yourself getting close for the how-ever-long-it-had-been time. It was too much and not enough, and the only thought in your head was how the situation was all your fault.

Being partly fae, there were slight differences your husband had from regularly hylians. For one, his control of magic was quite spectacular compared to others, not to mention how using magical items worked ten times better on him. Other notable differences included the fact that he could shrink to the size of a fairy at will... and that, every summer, a phenomenon know as 'heat' ravaged the fairy community in all senses of the word, which is exactly how you ended up with him pushing your legs up and going to town on you. The part about everything being your fault came with the fact that, instead of being supportive of his 'condition', you chose to challenge his half-joking comment about being able to go for days at a time. It became obvious that you were screwed (literally) when he hoisted you over his shoulder, dumped you on the bed, and proceeded to eat you out till you cried, then pushed you into a makeshift mating press that had you seeing stars with every thrust.

"Ah! T-Too—"

"Too much?" Hyrule smirked, unlatching from your breasts to press open-mouthed kisses on the column of your neck, occasionally scraping his elongated canines over trembling flesh. "You can take it," he said, punctuating every word with a particularly harsh thrust. "We're not— mm, leaving until you're full of me inside and out."

Well, if that wasn't the hottest thing you'd heard in your life. The coil in your belly was tighter than ever, leaving your dangling over the precipice. Fortunately, your husband was very familiar with your body's cues by now that he merely jammed his thumb down on your poor, abused clit, slamming in at the same time. You screamed as you came, writhing in his unbreakable hold to escape the merciless pounding that continued into your orgasm. Your hands dragged down his back, leaving deep crimson stripes that only made him fuck you harder.

"S-Stop—" you whimpered, throat beyond sore from all the screaming "I-I can't—"

"You can," was Hyrule's panted response as he drilled into your poor cunt, fucking you even as his own release spurted into your overfilled core. "And you will."

It was when you felt the tips of his canines hovering over the mating mark on your left shoulder did your struggling begin anew. Fae mating was tricky business, especially when a single touch to the mark from him would practically have you creaming. "Wait—"

But Hyrule didn't listen, practically growling as he sunk his teeth into tender flesh. Your body jerked with the intensity of a livewire as a cacophony of moans tore themselves from your throat. "Aahh! Y-You bastard—"

"Only for— mmmh, you," was his response. Another wave of searing cum filled you, and a reprieve finally came in the form of his halted thrusts. You collapsed back on the bed, chest heaving, as your husband took his own break, the both of you panting like dogs. You whimpered pathetically when he pulled his cock from you, drawing a half amused, half exhausted chuckle from your mate. "Regretting something?"

"Go fuck yourself," you hissed playfully, not realizing your mistake until he pulled you close, hardened cock settling between your folds like it belonged there, and sneered in your face.

"Not when I have you here."

2 posts in one day?? I'm on a roll!

[mariacallous]

In the 1990s, the feel-good first decade after communism’s implosion, headlines in Central Europe were dominated by the likes of Vaclav Havel, the charming playwright-turned-Czech president who championed civic democracy. Yet, from the start, extreme-right rabble-rousers and brooding nativists lurked in the margins. Decades of Soviet rule had reinforced illiberal attitudes that surfaced in my discussions with ordinary people as I crisscrossed the region as a young correspondent, eventually writing a book about the far right in post-communist Central Europe.

At the time, I believed that Central Europe’s entry into the European Union, which was still far off and uncertain, would nullify the region’s most destructive tendencies. After all, the bloc had accomplished this for postwar Germany, Greece, Portugal, and Spain—all of which had emerged from radical dictatorships to become healthy democracies. Countries didn’t revert to despotism after acceding to the EU. Right?

But in Hungary the unthinkable happened: A state that jumped through all of the hoops to join the EU in 2004 commenced a rapid decline into authoritarianism just six years later. Other member states have endured stretches of democratic backsliding, including Romania, Slovenia, Slovakia, and, notably, Poland during the 2015 to 2023 Law and Justice government. But their political systems and societies were resilient enough to fight back and depose strongmen. Hungary did not rise from the mat.

Two new books grant us vivid insight into Hungary’s descent into dictatorship—a feat pulled off so skillfully by Prime Minister Viktor Orban that it inspires awe—and uncover the mechanisms that made the regime’s rise possible, even as the undemocratic country has remained in a bloc designed to promote and deepen the liberal character of its members.

In Embedded Autocracy: Hungary in the European Union, Hungarian political scientists Andras Bozoki and Zoltan Fleck dissect the many-headed hydra of the Orban regime. Orban’s Hungary isn’t an old-school dictatorship that snatched power by a coup or jails opposition figures. As this astute book details, it possesses all the trappings of democracy, including regular, monitored elections; a multiparty opposition; and thus far, the peaceful transfer of power. Today, non-Fidesz mayors rule in the largest, western-most cities such as Budapest, Szeged, Pecs, and Gyor. For most Hungarians, this is evidence enough that their country is a democracy, regardless of the diagnosis of political scientists. This achievement is Orban’s magic, which relies not on spells but rather on the ruthless application of power.

Born in rural Hungary in 1963, Orban—a self-proclaimed “illiberal” politician—was once a liberal activist. He became an anti-communist student leader in the 1980s while studying law in Budapest and even took up a research fellowship at Oxford University on George Soros’s dime. Along with other activists, he founded the Alliance of Young Democrats (Fidesz) in 1988 as a Western-minded movement to promote freedom and democracy. (Bozóki was formerly a member of Fidesz but left the party in 1993.)

Orban has orchestrated every Fidesz twist and turn since, his keen populist instincts charting the course rather than any ideology. Between 1993 and 1994, he jerked the rudder to the right, and in 1998, Orban and Fidesz took the country’s highest office for the first time at the head of a center-right coalition. The Orban government, offering a taste of what the future held, stretched propriety to the limit by rallying the media to its cause, promoting loyalists in the state apparatus, and ingratiating itself with deep-pocketed bankers and industrialists.

In 2002, Orban committed a rare gaffe that resulted in defeat: playing more forcefully to the emerging middle class than to the much larger pool of older, uneducated, poor, rural voters—those ravaged by International Monetary Fund (IMF) and EU-driven market reforms. This group either shied from the polls or voted socialist left. It was not a mistake Orban would make twice.

Fidesz was out of office for the next eight years, and by the late aughts, Orban had transformed it from a conservative party to a populist vehicle that appealed not to a class but to a nation. He purged Fidesz of critical minds, centralized it around himself, and polarized Hungary’s discourse by casting political opponents as the nation’s enemies.

By 2010—six years after Hungary secured EU membership—Orban was raring to pounce. Bozoki and Fleck, though critical of Fidesz’s first turn at governance, argue that the descent into autocracy fell into place that year when Fidesz staged a spectacular comeback with a supermajority in parliament. Orban wasted no time in employing this mandate to hollow out the judiciary, rewrite Hungary’s legal code, and promulgate a new constitution. New laws made it harder for upstart parties to win seats and even easier for a large party, like Fidesz, to capture a legislative supermajority with less of the vote. And the refashioned legal code saw to it that Fidesz’s cronyism and subsequent amassing of power fell close enough within the law that it would not be sanctioned domestically.

Today, Hungary is a flourishing dictatorship. The regime has curtailed press freedom, marginalized the opposition, dismantled democratic checks and balances, controlled civil society, fixed election laws, and neutered criticism—ensuring that only extraordinary events, not elections, could oust it from power.

In Bozoki and Fleck’s telling, Orban’s genius was that he intuited exactly how Hungary was susceptible to this turn. The country possessed next to no democratic tradition before 1989. After the Soviets’ brutal crushing of the 1956 uprising, when Hungarians challenged the Stalinist regime, they fell in line again—in contrast to the Poles who fought communism’s enforcers tooth and nail. These “deep-seated attitudes” continued into the 21st century and contributed to Orban’s ability to entrench authoritarian rule.

“He could change the regime because society was not much concerned with the political system,” the authors write. “What people learned over decades and even centuries was that political regimes … were always external to people’s everyday lives.”

Rather than heavy-handed repression, Orban relied on self-censorship, suppliance, and patronage to keep his subjects in line. Those who toed the line were rewarded with jobs, directorships, and contracts. And, of course, he leaned on his own special cocktail of nationalist rhetoric: “He has provided identity props for a disintegrated society using tropes in line with historical tradition: a Christian bulwark against the colonialism of the West, the pre-eminent, oldest nation in the Carpathian basin, a nation of dominance, a self-defending nation surrounded by enemies,” the authors write.

Fidesz received a tremendous windfall in the aughts when the left-liberal government botched an economic transition based on neoliberal principles, rashly introducing free-market conditions to a society that was woefully unprepared for their fallout. The government created ever greater wealth disparities as it followed the “shock therapy” prescriptions of Western institutions such as the World Bank and the IMF, as well as the EU. In 2007, Hungary’s own debt crisis sent the country into a tailspin, a meltdown that the global economic crisis turbocharged the next year.

The socialist-liberal coalition of those years heaped blunders on top of blunders—such as the prime minister’s recorded admission that he lied to win the 2006 election—before crumbling. So thoroughly did the liberal partner in the coalition self-destruct that for a decade afterward, Hungary fielded no liberal party at all.

In the eyes of many Hungarians, the economic collapse discredited market capitalism, and liberal democracy with it. They understood it as one bundle that foreign actors had foisted upon them. Twenty years after democracy’s debut, the population welcomed a strongman who claimed to cater to “Hungarian interests” rather than those of elites in Brussels and Washington.

It is in the name of “national unification,” Fidesz’s blanket legitimation for nearly all of its reforms, that the party re-nationalized much of the industrial sector, as well as banking, media, and energy. Over the 2010s, Bozoki and Fleck write, Orban would decimate civil society and end “autonomy in public education, universities, science, professional bodies, and public law institutions.” Under these conditions, it is impossible to call any election free or fair, even if ballot boxes aren’t being stuffed.

Bozoki and Fleck’s fine book is buttressed by David Jancsics’s narrower Sociology of Corruption: Patterns of Illegal Association in Hungary, another work that understands egregious corruption as integral to the regime. At the book’s start, Jancsics, a Hungarian-born sociologist at San Diego State University, makes a simple observation: that corruption in Hungary today is on a scale unthinkable in the Soviet era.

This is quite a claim—in the 1990s, one of the most repeated reasons for Central Europe’s disgust with the Soviet system was its prevalent corruption. But the author backs it up. Although graft is still despised in Hungary today, because most people don’t benefit from it, Jancsics makes the case that it has once again been accepted as the way things are done.

Since 2010, Jancsics writes, “the Fidesz regime has effected a radical transformation of grand corruption patterns … in which complex corrupt networks are professionally designed and managed by the very top of the political elite.” Networks dominated by members of Orban’s inner circle now control not only political institutions, but also the economy, and “uninterruptedly siphon off a huge amount of public resources from the government system.”

These networks of Orban’s cronies and relatives are protected by a thick layer of shell companies that disguise the real owners of the businesses that profit from their proximity to government, Jancsics writes. And like the changes to Hungary’s political structure, the regime has fashioned laws to make its corruption legal.

Jancsics uses the example of the country’s $2.5 billion tobacco industry to illustrate this stripe of corruption. In 2012, the rubber-stamp Hungarian parliament passed a law that turned the sector into a state monopoly—purportedly to stop underage smoking—and decreed that all cigarette sales must occur under new concessions contracts. The government then created the national Tobacco Nonprofit Trade Company to oversee the distribution of new licenses. The company doled these out to members of networks close to the government. Two years later, another law passed stipulating that shops could only buy tobacco products from a state-owned intermediary. According to Jancsics, investigative journalists revealed that one person—Lorinc Meszaros, the then-mayor of Orban’s hometown—stood behind much of this scheme, which more than 500 shell companies helped obscure. Today, Meszaros is Hungary’s wealthiest man.

The crumbs of this hugely lucrative operation trickled down to lower-level party clientele. “It seems the legislators used the restructuring and reregulation of the whole tobacco market not only for the benefit of a few powerful oligarchs or proxy oligarchs but also for rewarding a large number of party clientele,” Jancsics writes. “Family members, spouses, siblings, parents, in-laws, friends, or even neighbors of people linked to the governing party won several concessions.”

The EU has not only watched this level of corruption unfold. As Bozoki and Fleck show, Brussels has been complicit in Hungary’s metamorphosis, supplying the funds to grease the regime’s operations. Like all of the EU’s Central European members, Hungary has profited immensely from EU cohesion funds, which are designed to bring the economies of weaker member states up to scratch. Between 2014 and 2020, Hungary received around $34 billion in EU funds, which Bozoki and Fleck argue has only solidified the ruling elite’s hold on power.

The EU finally got tougher in 2018, when it sanctioned Budapest for breaching the bloc’s core values. The following year, the European People’s Party, the European Parliament’s grouping of center-right parties, finally expelled Fidesz from its ranks. Over the past three years, the EU has frozen more than $31 billion to Hungary, including COVID-19 recovery funds, over rule of law deficits.

But this hasn’t forced Budapest to significantly modify any of its most flagrant abuses. Although there were loud objections from within the European Parliament, Hungary took over the rotating presidency of the Council of the European Union in July. Orban has continued to veto EU aid to Ukraine and increased its reliance on Russian fuels at a time when the bloc is striving to quit Russian imports. Perhaps more than any moves Hungary has made as council president, Orban’s friendliness to the Kremlin in exchange for cheap energy has weakened the EU as a foreign policy actor.

The EU is paying an enormous price for indulging Orban, not least by sanctioning a template for populist takeovers elsewhere in Europe. The bloc’s clout in terms of its ability to shape commerce, values, and policy coordination is obviously not as great as I once imagined. Hungary’s brazen disrespect and power plays have weakened it even further.

Now, the EU as we know it is under siege across Europe, where Orban allies hold or share power in the Netherlands, Finland, Sweden, Slovakia, Austria, and Croatia. These rightists want an EU with fewer powers and less centralization—a Europe of nations—and many look to Hungary for leadership. Even U.S. President-elect Donald Trump pays homage to Orban, whom he has called “fantastic” and a “great leader.” These other pretenders will hopefully come and go—as ruling parties and their leaders do in democracies—but history teaches us that Hungary’s embedded autocracy will not disappear anytime soon.

[ashleymilesphil]

Happy Birthday, To Me ,At 22 and Still Fighting!

Today I turn 22, and as I reflect on my life, I see a journey marked by both struggle and resilience. Growing up in Uganda as a queer person, I faced rejection, fear, and violence for simply being who I am. When I fled to Kakuma camp in Kenya and later to Gorom camp in South Sudan, I thought I might finally find safety, but the struggles have only continued

Disease is rampant—HIV, malaria, TB, thyroid issues—all of these ravage our community. Yet, despite the hardships, I’m still standing, still advocating for my fellow LGBTIQ refugees. It’s not easy, but every day I wake up knowing that our voices deserve to be heard, that our lives matter, and that we will not be silenced.

As I turn 22, I look at where I’ve come from, and though the road ahead may still be filled with obstacles, I remain hopeful. I am here, alive, and fighting. I am calling for global support, not just for me, but for every queer refugee out there who struggles in silence, who faces the threat of violence and disease every day.

I hope you will stand with me, share our story, and help us raise awareness. We need the world to know that we are here, we exist, and we will not give up.

Here’s to another year of surviving, of standing tall, and continuing the fight for justice and equality.

– AshleymilesPhil

[modernsuperhero]

Btw ages ago I came up with a Scarian au where Scar is of course the mayor of a lovely city. He's quite wealthy too - before his venture into politics he designed the very successful Scarland theme park, which rejuvenated the city's economy and boosted his own pockets too. He's very active in the community and generally beloved by the people.

He is also secretly HotGuy, the city's vigilante superhero, using his wealth from Scarland and his connections as mayor to try to untangle the mess of corruption and organized crime throughout the city! And also like, saving cats from atop trees and things if he happens to come across those too. The city however has recently become host to a deathly parasite, the lethally beautiful Mother Spore. Because she's an independent villain, HotGuy has no way to anticipate her attacks and just has to drop everything when she starts to try to take over another city block or something.

However, HotGuy is not the only person running around the city with a mask and a dream! There's one character who's known just as much for his menace as for his heroism: Poultry Man! Poultry Man may not be a villain, but far be it from him to veer away from pranks or minor shoplifting. HotGuy has chased him down after catching him egging buildings or nicking treats he didn't pay for, but he's also shown up to help HotGuy pull survivors out of the water when there was a terrible bridge collapse, or help break up fights that start to get too violent.

And then, of course, there's the final masked figure in HotGuy's career: his sidekick, CuteGuy! He simply appeared one day, kitted out in military grade weapons and body armor spray-painted pink and white, complete with frills and bows and bullets, asking how he can help. HotGuy is skilled at combat and firing his bow, but CuteGuy is on another level. For some reason, he follows HotGuy's every command to a T, never taking the lead despite obviously having extensive experience. Despite his compliance, he refuses to discuss his past or identity.

Somehow, though, none of these three characters are ever in the same place. If Mother Spore is ravaging a street, Poultry Man doesn't make a peep, and CuteGuy never comes to HotGuy's aid. Poultry Man always gets away with his pilfered knickknacks before CuteGuy arrives, and so on and so forth. And you see, Scar is no fool. He knows all three's secret identities - or rather, identity.

[More under cut]

It is none other than one of Scar's long-time friends and neighbor: Grian.

Grian has known Scar since his dreams for Scarland were nothing more than doodles in his teenage sketchbook. He adores knitting, baking, and taking his cats (however unwillingly) on walks outside. Scar moved into the mayoral home when he was elected, but he still owns his old house right next door to Grian's. Grian is a cheery architect who proudly boasts about being Scar's friend.

And Scar has no doubt in his mind he is also secretly terrorizing the innocent people around him, and that he has both attempted to kill, protect, and annoy Scar as HotGuy on countless occasions.

...Okay, he doesn't know WHY Grian is doing that, or... how, but it HAS to be him! He swears all of their voices are the same, and even with the different masks on they all look exactly like him! And, he's never seen any two of them in one place! Scar is sure Grian's innocent civilian facade is nothing more than that.

It also explains some things: Mother Spore's flirtatious remarks whenever they fight, Poultry Man's annoying cackling when he leads Scar on another chase across town, and CuteGuy's insistence on keeping him alive and following him like a shadow.

Grian and Scar used to be close. But as Scar's life got more complicated, he had less and less time to spend with his friends.

As baffling as it is, Scar is certain that while he was gone Grian became a supervillain of epic proportions, and he's probably only just begun toying with HotGuy and the rest of the city for his own amusement.

...

The truth is Scar is completely wrong!

Grian, Mother Spore, Poultry Man, and CuteGuy are, legitimately, four different people (or entities, looking at Mother Spore) who have never met.

Or, well, that depends on your definition of "met". :)

[themareverine]

all my pieces—drabbles, oneshots, series, etc. mostly writing for Hugh Jackman characters, with focus on Wolverine. see my pinned for recents and incomings. ©️ themareverine 2024.

CONTENT LEGEND —

🌶️— PG-13/spicy please note, I'm a SFW writer and don't write smut, but my stuff should be considered PG-13 and do content adult themes due to language and implied scenarios/innuendo. 💛— fluff/domestic 💔— angst/trauma 🔗— associated with a series 🎉 — celebrations 🎀— requests/asks

MASTERLIST —

Logan Howlett/Wolverine

── SERIES

🔗💔💛🌶️Mare & the Wolverine - AU!Origins!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

summary: The Northern Territories were the last place Mare McAffery ever imagined herself, much less a prize fighting bar with characters the likes of the one they call the Wolverine. A logging community and living out of a Motel 6—it wasn’t exactly Shakespearean. But sometimes, survival calls for a tooth and nail fight—even for a preacher’s daughter.

🔗💔💛🌶️Until We Fall - Worst!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

summary: DP&W AU. It's been God knows how many years after Logan's death in North Dakota—and this wouldn't be much of a story without a shiny new villain with a hot new plan, or someone to save the world. Well, maybe two someones. Ok, you win, three. But first, you have track down that said someone—the Wolverine. And who better to do that than the girl who found him the first time? Logan/OC

── ONESHOTS

🔗💛 Wild Man- Logan Howlett x fem!OC

synopsis: Blizzards and pane glass windows—typical for a Thursday night at Laughlin City's favorite haunt. Until the Wolverine walks in, and hell hath no fury like a man ravaged by jealousy.

🔗💔💛 Bed of Bones - The Long Night!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

SYNOPSIS: When he promised her something different, she didn't think it would be this. Alaskan stars, running to survive, trying to feel. Anonymous faces in a forgotten frontier. It isn't much, it's barely living—but really all she needs to live is him.

🔗💔💛🌶️ Designated Driver - oldman!Logan x fem!OC

synopsis: "Hey driver!" Tits, yeah—counts two of 'em. What Logan can't quite shake isn't the drunk-off-her ass's $20,000 tit job, or even the way his passengers embarrass themselves with shameless come-ons, stupid amounts of money. something else, entirely—a pretty little thing all done up in makeup and curls, wishing she were anywhere but third-wheeling a drunk hen party. "Sorry about my friend, she's—" "Didn't even notice her, honey."

🎉💛 Closer to Hell - shortking!DP&WLogan x fem!OC

synopsis: He may be five inches closer to hell than she is, but he takes up more space than God, sets fire to anything he’d dare to touch. 

🔗💔 Who We Are - dofp!Logan x mutant!fem!OC

synopsis: "What am I, Logan?" Swallowing, "What is this?" And she knows what she is, subliminally.

🎉🌶️ God Laughs - dofp!Logan x fem!OC

synopsis: 'I'll love you in every time, Logan, that I know. Just say the word." So much hinged on so little, and it doesn’t make any damn sense. They all knew it—their moments, any of them, ceased to exist if he didn't do this—this unspeakable thing, the only thing that would keep any of them alive.

🌶️💛 Only When It’s Right - Logan Howlett x fem!OC

synopsis: "Does it always feel like this?" He chuckles, "Only when it's right, honey," dips low, worships her like every fucker in Alberta only prays to. "Only when it's right."

── DRABBLES SERIES

A King & His Castle - oldman!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

synopsis: Breadwinner. Bring-Home-the-Bacon. He's heard it all before, but it's never hit home. Until her. Coming home to her is the only thing to live for, the only thing keeping the heart behind his ribs spinning. 🔗💛 IN YOU, MY FORTRESS

🌶️💛TOY SOLDIERS - worst!wolverine x fem!OC

synopsis: He was just a one of those fast food kid’s meal toys from 1993—key word, was. now he’s Hugh Jackman incarnate, standing in the master bedroom of her midwestern apartment, lost in time and infinity. she’s gotta get him back to his world, where he’s the worst Wolverine, where he belongs—or, maybe not?

── DRABBLES

💛Garfield Morning Coffee- Logan Howlett x fem!OC 💛He’s Not You- Logan Howlett x fem!OC 💛Subaru, It's You - worst!Logan x fem!OC 💛 Top Eight - worst!Logan x fem!OC drabble

Eddie Alden, Someone Like You

©️ themareverine 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Layout inspired by @ ovaryacted

[pinchofhoney]

Your stories r so cute!!! Just a lil idea if it piques your interest: set between part 1 and part 2 in jackson, joel has a crush on a sweet shy bubbly girl who works as a farmer or in the greenhouses : )

spring is a season when more than just flowers bloom

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warning: fluff, fluff, pure FLUFF, life is most beautiful during the first days of spring (with a kitten!!)

summary: Spring brings with it more than just the beauty of blooming flowers. As the sun starts to shine a little brighter, it also has its own way of awakening deeply hidden emotions. The world feels brighter, and everything seems a little bit more beautiful. Especially in the right company.

a/n: hello, anon!!<33 i absolutely loved your idea and hope you'll be satisfied with what's hidden further down the line!

i'll also standardly mention that my inbox stands wide open waiting for more of your ideas with joel, or any other character played by pedro! (and every like and reblog is very much appreciated)

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @alexxavicry @babypeapoddd @domaniquessidehoe

The first rays of light began to peek through the curtains of your window, and you could feel the excitement bubbling inside you. You knew that today was going to be a good day, and you were ready to start it off with a smile. You got out of bed and stretched, taking in the sweet and melodious chirping of the birds outside your window. It was the first days of the spring you have so long awaited. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple pleasures of life. It was a beautiful morning, and you felt blessed to be alive to witness it.

Jackson had been your home for three years now, and it was a place that held a special place in your heart. You had stumbled upon the settlement when you were traveling alone, fighting to survive in a world overrun by infected. But when you arrived, you knew that you had finally found your new home and your people. The settlement was small, but tight-knit, and you felt a sense of belonging that you had not experienced in a long time. The community had welcomed you with open arms, and it wasn't long before you had found your place among them.

Despite the dangers that lurked outside the safety of the settlement, you refused to let fear and despair take hold of you. Your bubbly and sweet nature had won the hearts of people, and your infectious positivity had become a glimmer of hope for everyone around you, instilling them with the strength to carry on. Your infectious positivity spread like wildfire, warming the hearts of people and reminding them that even in the darkest of times, there was always a reason to smile.

The outside world was a dark and unforgiving place, ravaged by the Cordyceps brain infection that had left only a fraction of humanity standing. You felt like you could hear the distant sounds of infected roaming in the wilds beyond the walls every day, which was a constant reminder that the safety of the settlement was a fragile thing.

But despite these challenges, you believed that there was always something to be grateful for. Whether it was the warm rays of the sun on your face or the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal, you knew that the small things in life were what made it all worthwhile.

In Jackson you had been entrusted with the care of the greenhouses. From an early age, you had been surrounded by the beauty of nature, thanks to your mother, who was a florist herself. She had instilled in you a love for all things green and growing, and you had spent countless hours by her side, learning the art of nurturing and caring for plants.

Every day the houses of hundreds of plants welcomed you with open arms. You could feel the warm, humid air wrap around you, enveloping you in a cozy embrace as you stepped inside. The space was bursting with life, with lush greenery and vibrant blooms stretching up towards the ceiling. It was your responsibility to tend to these plants, to ensure that they flourished and thrived under your care. And you took that responsibility very seriously.

As you donned your gloves and apron, you felt a sense of purpose and dedication wash over you. You knew that the work you did here was important, not just for the plants, but for the community as a whole. Each day, you would make your way down the rows of plants, checking on each one carefully. You looked for signs of growth, of health, of disease. And when you found something that needed attention, you would carefully tend to it, pruning and watering and adjusting the lighting as needed.

It was hard work, there was no denying that. Your back would ache from bending over the plants for hours on end, and your hands would be raw from the constant labor. But despite the physical toll it took on you, you loved every minute of it.

The greenhouse was more than just a place to work for you; it was a sanctuary. It provided an escape from the harsh realities of the world outside, a place where you could lose yourself in the beauty and tranquility of nature.

The plants seemed to breathe life into the space around you, filling the air with their sweet, earthy scent. The rustling of their leaves and the buzzing of the bees created a symphony that surrounded you, and as you sang softly to yourself, your voice blending seamlessly with the sounds of nature, you felt truly alive. In this moment, there was nothing else but the beauty of the world around you.

You were not naive. You knew that outside the Jackson's protective walls, danger and uncertainty loomed. You knew that the world was still a dangerous place, and that there were no guarantees of safety or security, but for a brief moment, you let go of the fear and focused on the present moment, finding solace in the simple pleasures of life.

You chose to see the good in everything around you, finding comfort in the beauty of nature and the kindness of your fellow friends. Each smile, kind word, or small gesture brought warmth to your heart and hope to your soul. Every day, you woke up with a sense of gratitude. You were grateful for the opportunity to work in such a beautiful place, and to be surrounded by such incredible life. You were grateful for every moment of happiness, no matter how small. As you tended to the plants, you took pride in the fact that you were providing food for the community of the settlement. It gave you a sense of purpose and fulfillment that few other things could match. You knew that your hard work and dedication made a difference, and that was enough to keep you going, even in the face of adversity.

In the midst of a world filled with chaos, you never thought you would find love. Every day brought new challenges and obstacles that made you question what the future held. But, there was a moment when you felt as though fate had other plans for you. It was a feeling that you couldn't shake, and despite your initial skepticism, you began to embrace the warmth that spread throughout your chest.

At first, you tried to ignore it, believing that it was just a passing fancy. You had seen so many relationships crumble under the weight of life's challenges, especially now, that you were hesitant to even consider the possibility of love. But, the feeling persisted, and you found yourself daydreaming about a future with someone who could stand by your side through thick and thin.

And that’s when you met Joel Miller.

When he first arrived in Jackson there was still snow all around and the temperatures outside left much to be desired. That didn't mean, that you didn't have things to do in your greenhouses. Working with plants, you had your hands full at any time of the year, because taking care of them, doesn't end with planting them at the right time. Despite the misconception that winter meant less work, you were always busy. You had lost too many important people in your life, and you were determined not to lose the plants that were dependent on you. So, you made sure to take all the necessary measures to ensure their survival, even in the harshest of weather.

The first time you encountered Miller was when you were moving heavy boxes of frozen soil into the greenhouse. As you stood near the building with one of them in your arms, you couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by Joel. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a serious expression on his face that made him seem unapproachable. His hair was disheveled by the wind, and there were lines etched around his eyes that suggested he didn't smile very often.

You immediately noticed how different he was from you. While you were outgoing and sociable with a smile that could light up a room, he seemed to be the complete opposite. Joel seemed to be reserved and kept to himself most of the time, rarely initiating conversations with others. Additionally, he appeared to be in a grumpy mood, which only added to his aloof attitude. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and he looked like he would rather be anywhere else but there, dealing with the freezing cold boxes.

Despite this less-than-stellar first impression, you made a conscious effort not to jump to conclusions about him. You knew that you couldn't judge someone based on a single interaction. As someone who didn't believe in judging a book by its cover, you knew from experience that there was always more to a person than met the eye. Perhaps he was going through a tough time or simply needed some time to warm up to new people.

Looking back, you were glad you gave Joel a chance. After he returned to Jackson from his journey with Ellie, he began to seek out your company. Despite his initial impression of seeming to dislike you, it was clear that he appreciated having you in his life. He kept popping in your greenhouses whenever he had a chance, and it was always a pleasure to have him around. In fact, you got the feeling that he liked being around you even more than you enjoyed having him around yourself. It was as though he found comfort in your presence, and you were happy to be a source of that comfort for him.

And today was no different. You were lost in your own world, consumed by the task of tending to the lush greenery around you. Your fingers delicately plucked at old leaves and removed the weeds that threatened to smother the life out of your beloved plants. You knelt amidst the shrubbery, surrounded by a cacophony of sounds – he rustling of leaves, the gentle dripping of nearby water, and the distant hum of people.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke your reverie, pulling you back to reality. It was Joel's voice, and it was the sweetest sound you'd like to hear all day. You lifted your head and peered through the thick foliage towards the entrance of the greenhouse. Your heart swelled with joy as you saw Joel approaching, his steady gait bringing him closer to you.

“Y/N?” Joel called out again, his voice jolting you back to the present. You got up, brushing the dirt off your knees and discarding your gloves. You stepped out of the shrubs and onto the path between the plant beds, a smile spreading across your lips. Joel smiled too. “Hey there, how’s my favorite plant lady doing today?” he asked, his voice warm and friendly.

You chuckled, feeling the corners of your eyes crinkle with amusement. “Hi, Joel,” you replied, making your way towards him. “You won't believe it, but absolutely nothing has changed since yesterday,” you joked, happy to see someone you cared for. You couldn't help but notice that Joel was holding one of his hands behind his back, but you didn't pay it much attention.

“How about you?” you asked, eager to know what he had been up to.

“You haven't heard yet, have you?” Joel teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Heard of what?” you queried, your brow furrowing slightly. You tossed the gloves aside and pushed back a stray strand of hair that had escaped your bun while you were engrossed in your work.

Joel watched you closely, his hand still concealed. Then, with a flourish, he brought his hand forward, revealing a tiny ball of fur. You gasped in delight as you saw the adorable kitten nestled in Joel's palm.

The world around you faded away as you focused solely on the little being. You took the kitten from Joel's hands, and it let out a soft meow as you held it close. Tears of joy filled your eyes as you looked down at the furry creature in your arms.

“Where did you get it?” you asked, your voice hushed and filled with wonder.

“He came to the gate this morning,” Joel explained. “Not sure where he came from. They sent a few people to check the immediate area, maybe there are more.”

You looked up at Joel and saw a side of him that you'd never seen before. His features were relaxed and his expression was serene, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched you cradle the kitten in your arms. He seemed at peace, and it filled you with a sense of contentment.

You held the kitten closer to your chest, feeling its warmth seep into your body. It was a tiny creature, but it had brought so much happiness into your life in that one moment.

As you and Joel walked out of the greenhouse, he suddenly brought up a detail from one of your earlier conversations. “If I remember correctly, you mentioned having a cat when you were young, didn’t you?” he asked, catching you off guard.

You were taken aback that he remembered such a seemingly insignificant detail, especially since you had been doing most of the talking during your time together in the greenhouse. However, Joel had always been a great listener, making you feel heard and understood. You had found yourself opening up more than usual and sharing stories about your life before the Cordyceps outbreak. Despite the apparently one-sided nature of your conversations, Joel had been paying closer attention than you thought. “Did you really remember that?” you asked in surprise.

Joel chuckled. “Of course I did. You told me all about it.”

“Its name was Aster,” you added, recalling your beloved childhood pet fondly.

Joel looked at you with a curious expression. “Why did you choose that name? Have I asked you before?” he inquired. You couldn’t resist sitting down on a nearby bench, the warmth of the spring sun comforting against your skin. The little ball of fur that Joel had brought along, against your wishes, immediately made its way over him, curious about the zipper on his jacket.

“My mother picked that name,” you explained, watching the kitten, which looked even tinier next to the man. “It’s actually related to flowers,” you said cheerfully, attracting Joel's attention. You knew he wasn't familiar with plants, but you loved sharing your knowledge with him and he loved listening to everything you had to say.

Joel looked intrigued. “How so?” he asked.

“My mother's favorite flowers have always been asters,” you continued. “Each plant has its own meaning, these have one too,” you explained. “Asters symbolize patience and love. When you adopt a cat, you usually need some patience for those sweet eyes,” you said, reaching out to pet the kitten, which had now curled up against Joel's thigh and was purring contentedly.

You couldn't help but laugh softly as you added, “And besides, my mom found it in the garden, near the asters.” You realized that the actual reason for the name was probably not as deep as you had made it out to be.

To your surprise, Joel's deep, quiet chuckle filled the air in response. “And what is your favorite kind of flower?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

You thought for a moment before answering, “I've always had a soft spot for daisies. We used to have them all over our front lawn when I was a kid,” you said, looking ahead at the people bustling about in the streets of the settlement in the distance. A gentle breeze swept over your face, and you closed your eyes, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “I haven't seen them in a long time,” you admitted in a hushed tone, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Joel's expression softened as he gazed at you, taking in the wistful look on your face. “I'll have to keep an eye out for them on our next supply run,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring.

You opened your eyes and looked at him gratefully. “That would be nice,” you said, feeling a little lighter at the thought of seeing daisies again.

Joel's eyes lingered on the sleeping kitten before turning to you. His question was simple, yet there was a meaningful glint in his gaze. “Do you still have a lot of plant work to do?” he asked.

You looked down at the tiny ball of fur and replied, “Not really, why?”

“We need to show the little one his new home,” he said, his words laced with emotion as he watched the kitten.

You suddenly felt like a little girl again, as though you had just received the pet of your dreams from your parents. “Do you mean my house?” you asked, excitement bubbling up inside you.

Joel's response was filled with praise. “I think you are the best person this kitten could have come across,” he said, watching as a smile spread across your face. “The others will agree with me, you know it well.”

“Really?” you asked, holding your hands close to your chest in anticipation of his response. When he nodded confirmatively, without a moment's hesitation, you threw your arms around Joel, wrap him in a tight hug. You were careful not to awaken the sleeping kitten with your sudden burst of energy.

It was the first time you had hugged him, the first time you had invaded his personal space. Your love language was touch, and hugs were very familiar to you and close to your heart. However, Joel was frozen in place, unsure of how to react to the physical contact, which made you realize that he had a different nature than you.

Joel had forgotten what it felt like to be hugged. Years had passed since anyone had embraced him, and he had become accustomed to loneliness. The unexpected warmth of your hug caught him off guard, and at first, he stiffened. But as you held him, Joel felt a long-forgotten sensation begin to spread through his body. It was like a memory coming back to life.

You moved away from him awkwardly, afraid to lift your gaze to his face. You didn't know what kind of reaction to expect. “Um,” you stuttered, clearing your throat. “Sorry,” you said more quietly. Only after a moment filled with nothing but the noise of the nature that surrounded you, you decided to look at Joel's face.

He looked at you with surprise, his eyes wandering over your face while his gray hair was blown away by the gentle breeze. He hadn't realized how much he had missed this kind of physical contact until now. Finally, he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. “You should name him Cuddle,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, referring to the kitten.

Then, Joel put his arm around you, pulling you close to him. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you, and you leaned into him, savoring the comforting embrace. It was a moment you would never forget, the first time you had hugged Joel Miller, the man who had given you the perfect gift.

[ringleaderising]

PIGLET APPLICATION #04 RAVAGER THE CANDLEMAKER.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:

These Piglets are for lore clans with a tumblr presence (sideblog, FR posting on mainblogs, etc you simply have to be a lore clan who engages with the community here on tumblr.)

Other players with their siblings (and myself with their parents) will be not only welcome to but encouraged to write interclan letters/in character messages to their siblings, and you'll have to be okay with everything that comes with that (On-Site DMs, the potential of a message going unanswered/etc) I would also appreciate if you ping me for the stuff you do with them because I want to see what they get up to <3

If you win one of the siblings, please refrain from applying for another, this is so everyone interested gets an opportunity and a fair shake at taking one of the girls home!

If you're the selected winner, the dragon is yours to do what you please with! (Regene, change species, rename, change gender identities/pronoun preferences, etc) I ask only that you have a lore/character reason for breed or name changes, as they'll be connected to a wider group of dragons that would need to know these things (What kind of dragon their sibling has become, What to call them in letters, etc) and if you can keep them a modern breed so they can keep their cleavers, well that'd just be nice for their old man Pig.

Please honor the basic lore of the dragon you win, you're welcome to rewrite/reinterpret the lore they arrive with, but please don't eliminate that history entirely, since they'll be interwoven with other clans/players!

[and a big thank you to Khadjin for reminding me I never mentioned this yet!] my lore deviates pretty substantially from site lore. however every aspect can be explained within the context of the site, please don't feel like you have to adopt my headcanons to participate in these!- my "Lesser Gods" are nothing more than magically afflicted/overcharged spirits or magically mutated dragons created in a reactor explosion somewhere in Lightning and some timeloop silliness, and the 'Gaps' are highly concentrated leylines caused by this incident. the eleven gods of sornieth remain the only true gods in my lore much like the site on the whole!- the Piglets and their parents simply lived under the affliction of spirits, cults, and mutated dragons and contextualized them as "Gods" the very same way we create urban myth/legends. While they would know of The Host and the Gaps because of the direct effect both have had on their parents, they are not required to have continued to believe in them as "Higher beings" and can have learned in their time away from their family that these things are likely, little more than the arcane gone haywire.

BLANK APPLICATION

Please copy/paste and fill this out in a Reblog here on tumblr or send it to me through my submit box here so I can keep track of things on a per-dragon basis for the course of the 48-hours each application will be active!

FR Username/Numbers: Basic Clan Lore: (just a general description of the lore/area of your clan you intend to place this hatchling in!) Plans For Dragon: (A little description of any of your ideas, headcanons, story beats, etc you're thinking of for the dragon you're applying for! This can be anything you've got in mind, scries, outfits, etc, feel free to go as big or as little as you want, I wanna see what's going on in your head!) Intended Payment: (These dragons will be PWYW, but I need everyone to acknowledge they're not free, so whatever you're planning on paying/trading for them, even if you change your mind when the time comes, stick something here.)

RINGLEADER'S HEADCANONS

These are just some smaller lore bits and pieces you're welcome to use or disregard for each child, things that I couldn't fit into the bios in a way that made sense. much like the example outfit photo up-top, this is for fun or stuff to help get ideas flowing, if you're stuck!

Ravager, of all her siblings, is the one who seems the most far removed from the sensibilities of her parents, a trait that is dangerous for anyone entering her orbit, as she's a Daddy's girl through and through- with Pig's proclivity for death and "an eye for an eye" alive and well within her. She is still a killer in her bones- but if anyone discovers this trait, they are swiftly and cleanly dealt with.

She is incredibly knowledgeable of the anatomy of every breed of dragon, and several breeds of Sornieth's local fauna and beastclans- a trait that she made use of as a doctor for a short time upon leaving her parents so she could more safely infiltrate the traveling bands she used for survival until she could more firmly establish herself somewhere.

she has taken the idea her siblings insisted upon that she was a bad luck charm to heart and now embraces it- she remains closest to Riot as the pair were often teased for their lack of magical talents and the 'risk' they posed to the sisters on training outings, insisting to her gentler sister that in the face of adversity their family flourishes- and the unlucky face it most often.

Prim, Neat, and Proper in everything she engages in, she defies her attachment to her father by being well-spoken and clean- her workshop where she rends the dead into useable pieces is impeccable, and the gore forever staining her claws is always carefully covered by gloves- though they are often bitten through with lye.

THIS APPLICATION IS OPEN FROM 2 PM DECEMBER 8TH, 2024, TO 4:30 PM DECEMBER 10TH, 2024. REBLOGS AFTER THIS TIME WILL BE DISQUALIFIED FROM THE RUNNING.

And here's the pinglist! (ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT ON MAIN NONE OF YOU SAW THAT!)

@hor-wod-flir @harpyartisan @fuiran @terra-tortoise @bawkrya

@pocketmouse-fr @spongyspingy-rising @avalonianrising @clansunsharp @khadjin-fr