#truly a black and white horse for my liking

[horsegamergirl]

Meet my newest baby, Daybreak!

He's a young Belgian Warmblood stallion and he's named after one of my favourite Bella Sara horses! I didn't originally plan to buy him, but when I saw him (and noticed his eyes) I just fell in love!

Here are some photos of him I took, including one from the newest main story quest and a bugged mist after doing the Catherine's memories quest with Linda.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Might I inquire as to what, precisely, a Mustain't is? (Aside from a string of letters I hesitate to Google in that order.)

In October 2014 I went on a road-trip to the Dryest Place In America.

I was having a rough year, very depressed from having dropped out of college for the third time. I decided a road trip was in order to re-set my brain and get a little distance. Being that it was October, and therefore all the campgrounds in the American Southwest were filled with people who have the good sense to camp in reasonable temperatures, I elected to take my parent's minivan so I could car-camp anywhere suitably isolated, and looked up some of the southwest's geographic extremes- the highest place I could drive to (Pikes Peak), the lowest place (Badwater Basin), and for fun, the Dryest Place in the continental US, which turned out to be the Pinacate Volcanic field just west of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. It gets rain maybe twice a century and has no standing water, despite being less than 100 miles from the gulf of California.

It's a startlingly beautiful and alien place. The ground is a deep chocolate brown to black volcanic sand, and in mid October, the rabbit brush is turning bright yellow as it shifts to autumn, the organ pipe cacti are a dark green and stand, partially concealed in the brush at exactly human height. The air is alive with birds and insects and bats at night. The stargazing is like looking into the eyes of God.

You get there by driving down a little dirt road called "El Camino Del Diablo", or "The Devil's Road".

I drove out about three hours from Glendale, AZ to get there, arriving at sunset, and felt a profound sense of peace. I stargazed, listening to the bats hunt and sing, and slept peacefully for the first time in months.

I stayed out there for three days, sketching and painting the landscape, taking strolls through this almost alien landscape, and enjoying the light and sound and total absence of human intrusion besides myself.

On the fourth night, it was a new moon, and I awoke in the middle of the night. Something was amiss, and it took me a while to realize it was because I could NOT hear the bats. I was sleeping inside the van with the rear windows rolled halfway down rather than trying to set up the tent, so I when I sat up, I looked out of the van's reflective windows to discover what at first appeared to be A Horse.

It was something between pale gray and bright white in the starlight, standing maybe a dozen feet from the van, sniffing curiously. It made sense- I was in the middle of mustang country and there was quite a bit of foliage in the area for it and it did look like a truly wild horse- lumpy where the bones were jutting out, dusty about the hooves and face.

I was instantly seized by the sort of paralytic fear Sleep paralysis is made of. I couldn't move. It wasn't quite looking at me because it couldn't quite see through the windshield into the shadowy into the shadowy interior, but I had the distinct impression that if I looked away, it would know, and get me.

I already had problems with horses. My beloved Aunt Helen's Prize mare tried to kill me on two separate occasions, and the year before I had to carry my sister-in-law backwards out of a slot canyon whilst reciting the Saint Crispin's Day Speech as loudly as possible to keep a mustang from trampling us to death.

This is approximately what it should have looked like:

Instead, it was... off. like trying to draw a horse from memory.

The waist tapered in.

The legs were slightly too long or the torso slightly too short, probably both.

The ears were Triangular.

The head wasn't quite right- Too narrow and the jaw wasn't heavy enough.

The tail was too long and arced unnaturally away from the body.

The neck arched.

The nostrils were too high and close

The mouth too long.

Whatever this is, a Mustang it Ain't.

I watched it from the back seat as it sniffed around the front of the van, curious with about the side mirrors. It moved around the van, nibbling experimentally on the front door handle. It came up to the side windows, sniffing like a dog, and it's breath didn't fog up the glass.

Finally, it came up to the rear window, which was rolled halfway down to let the fall night air in. Not even half a pane of glass and two feet of air between us, and I could clearly see it's bright blue eyes.

Horses have Elongated pupils to give them a wide field of vision, and eyes that rotate sideways in their sockets so the pupil remains parallel to the ground. Rather creepy to watch, especially the ones with blue eyes.

A real horse that was curious about the interior of the van would have come up to the window more or less sideways, and looked at me with something like this:

Instead, the damn thing walked up and faced the back window head on, staring back at me with this:

I'm not sure how long we watched each other like that, eyes locked. My eyes burned. I couldn't blink. My mouth was dry. I couldn't swallow. My throat began to ache. I couldn't make a sound. My skin began to twitch, like I was severely dehydrated. I couldn't move. My lungs burned. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move.

Something was touching the side of my hand on the seat next to me. It's my water bottle.

The realization must have broken the terrible paralysis in the lower parts of my brain first, because by the time I consciously realized I could move again, I was already flinging my water bottle out the window at it.

The top was open, and splashed out the window at the Mustain't.

I've never heard such a scream out of an animal. Something halfway between the sound of unquenchable rage vibrating in someone's chest and the way rabbits cry out to God when the dogs catch them.

It jumped back, pivoting away from the van, snarling at the water bottle. I don't think you're supposed to be able to see All of a horse's teeth at once, no matter how angry it is.

I watched it run into the night for some distance, it's pale body visible against the black sand and the dark gray shadow of the ancient volcanic cone it was headed for.

When the blood stopped pounding in my ears, I could hear the bats again.

I debated leaving right then, but I didn't want to get out of the van with that thing in the area, nor litter by leaving the water bottle out there. I also had the awful idea that if I left now, it might somehow be able to follow me home. I ended up staying up three hours to watch the sunrise, shaking and trying to figure out if I'd woken up from a vivid dream, if my meds had stopped working, or if that had really happened. I didn't dare move until I actually felt the temperature rise, before stepping out of the van to grab the bottle. I had my camera ready- I was still using a DSLR back then- to take pictures of the hoofprints, to show how close it had gotten to the van.

No hoofprints.

Beetle tracks in the soft sand around the van, and the clear foot-and-wing prints of a bird that had hopped around then taken off. But no hoofprints.

I went over the entire campsite with the tent broom, to make sure I removed every scrap of evidence I had ever been there, including my footprints, grabbed my water bottle, and drove the three hours back back to Glendale, then decided to do seven more hours of driving to Moab, Utah just to put more than 500 miles, the state line and at least nine things that could be considered "running water" between me and the Mustain't.

-

I still have that water bottle. It has a dent in the bottom from hitting something, but that could have happened at any time. Strange thing though. I can't drink that bottle dry. I'll have it on me, drink whatever I've put in there- water, juice, iced coffee- and eventually feel like I've drunk the whole think and that it's empty. But I open it up and it's still at least a quarter full. I drink that. I get thirsty. I open it up again. ...and there's always a mouthful left.

Not sure what the side effects of drinking from a bottle cursed by a Mustain't to always have some left are, but it lives in the Emergency Breakdown Kit in my car now, just in case I meet another one.

---

(I'm a disabled artist and make my living telling stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi or Pre-order the Family Lore book on Patreon)

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Unsurprisingly, a lot of the commentary I'm seeing about this has been of the "But--but--I would do the same thing because I don't want anything bad to happen to the deer!"

Look. I love wildlife, and I love getting to see deer, coyotes, and even the occasional black bear in my neighborhood. But they are here because there is good habitat nearby with lots of natural food sources, not because I deliberately put out food for them to eat. I respect them as wild animals with whom my relationship is very different compared to the domesticated animals I take care of every day. A deer is not a sheep or a horse; a coyote is not a dog.

People who do things like try to tame deer or, worse yet, try to raise a fawn or other young wildlife like pets are robbing those wild animals of their natural existences. We've already wrought our own preferences on the landscape to a severe degree, tearing the wildness out of it to create lawns and farms and subdivisions and strip malls. When we then dismiss the wildness of these animals and impress our own desire for connection on our terms on them, we are harming them.

I've already written elsewhere about the difference between "tame" and "domesticated". No matter how docile that deer seems, it is never going to be as (relatively) safe and tractable as a domesticated sheep or goat. It will always be more unpredictable, and more likely to lash out suddenly at a person due to fear, or hormones, or protection of young.

These animals need their wild instincts to be intact if they are going to survive without being dependent on us. They need those instincts in order to find mates and keep the gene pool stirred up. Their instincts keep them safe from danger, including humans. And their instincts never totally go away, no matter how much we may try to tame them otherwise.

This is why a good wildlife rehab is going to minimize handling of the wild animals they care for, especially those that are going to be able to be released back into the wild. The less comfortable these animals are with humans, the better their chances of surviving in the wild and having fulfilling, natural lives. Wildlife that retain their wariness of humans are less likely to end up falling prey to hunting, or being killed as nuisance animals when they get too aggressive in seeking food or otherwise coming into conflict with people.

The person who painted "pet" on a fully grown white-tailed buck and put a collar around his neck may have felt like they were doing that deer a kindness, but they have likely robbed him of the chance to just live a natural life as his own, independent being out in the woods and fields. He might be out there, sure, but perhaps he won't mate because he imprinted on humans. Or maybe he will end up shot by a hunter in spite of the precautions because he's just too friendly and those antlers are worth taking the shot.

There will always be something missing from this deer's life because of the arrogance of someone who thought they could own and keep and control a wild-born animal for their own enjoyment, instead of allowing him to come and go as he pleased. Honestly, it reminds me of King Haggard from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn, whose response to seeing something beautiful was to capture it and keep it rather than simply enjoying and remembering that magical moment:

"I like to watch them. They fill me with joy. The first I felt it I thought I was going to die. I said to the Red Bull I must have them, all of them, all there are. For nothing makes me happy but their shining and their grace. So the Red Bull caught them. Each time I see the unicorns, my unicorns, it is like that morning in the woods and I am truly young, in spite of myself."

That's how I feel about people who are willing to drastically alter a wild animal's behavior for their own selfish benefit, even if they think they're being kind. I know I'm fighting a bit of an uphill battle in this, but I'm rather stubborn that way.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 9

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 9

Word Count: 4512

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Masterlist |Chapter 8| | |Chapter 10🔞|

Your soft, steady breaths are like music to Law’s ears. After shedding all the tears you had in you for that bastard, you were so tired that you immediately fell asleep, curled up against his chest.

Where you belong.

Law closes his eyes tightly, trying to gather his thoughts. This was all supposed to be fake and he couldn’t hold his feelings together for one freaking weekend. He knew it was dangerous when he asked you to do this, he knew that sometimes boundaries blur and bend and things that weren't supposed to happen, happen. Like it obviously did.

He had been so rattled by his uncle - he should have foreseen that he was going to use Monet, it was so obvious! - so insecure about your feelings, and about himself, about how he was believing every word out of Doffy’s mouth and distrusting you. Knowing you were there for him but not knowing for sure if you would leave him for more. Just like Monet had. 

He let himself lose control, and his feelings for you stirred violently like a storm. You are so much more than just a ruse for him. You are special. You make him feel things he long forgot how to feel, to see life in colour again, instead of just black and white. You make him plan for a far-off future and want to be more. More than just a doctor, more than part of the Donquixote family. More.

And he almost threw that away just to hear you say that you belong to him…

“I’m yours, all yours Law.”

You’d said it. Without the signal. The words had come out of your mouth and they rang so sweet in his ears. He’d been thinking about it, even before he asked you to be his fake girlfriend. Of how it would feel to have you by his side, to call you truly his. But he’d soon forgotten that fleeting dream. He didn’t have girlfriends. He wasn’t built for relationships, that dream had been shattered a long time ago. 

Yet, now, watching you sleep peacefully in his arms, feeling the pang of hurt and the slow spread of the embers of anger, after hearing you speak about the relationship you had with your ex, realisation hits him like a blow to the nose.

He really wants this - you!

Everything you have to offer him: every smile, every taunt, every giggle and glint in your eyes. But he also wants your broken pieces, your sadness, your sorrow, your guilt and your shame. 

He’s a genius. He can help put you back together, support you on your path until you become stronger and sturdier. By his side. 

A soft whine and a hiccup escape your lips as you take a deep breath, your body still tired and reacting to all the tears you’ve shed, and Law pulls you closer to him. 

He can’t help but notice how well you fit into his arms, as if you were moulded just for him.

Moulded. Fuck.

This is what’s keeping him awake, ultimately. It’s not just you in his arms. It’s the fact that you spent four years of your life in a fucked-up relationship with an asshole who didn’t appreciate you. Worse than that, he made you feel small, unimportant and disposable.

Law feels like punching something.

He uses surgery hours as an outlet for his frustration and anger. There is something about the steady tick-tock of the clock, the light beeping and buzzing of the machines, the ventilator breathing air into a patient's lungs and his steady hands making precise surgical cuts. Something that climbs the borders of saving lives and transcends him.

It's a way to control his own life, to bring steadiness and calm into an otherwise chaotic mind. Because as cool and collected Law always appears, inside there's a raging beast waiting to be unleashed. 

And the sight of your tears, your vulnerability, your broken - shattered - mind makes the beast roar and rattle its cage, demanding to be let out, clamouring for blood. 

Law shuts his eyes even tighter, smothering away the remnants of fury forcing their way out of his system. He places his nose near your head and inhales your shampoo, a scent so characteristically yours that does more to cage the beast inside than ten straight hours of surgery ever could. 

He realises you didn't tell him the name of your ex. Law can very well add two and two together, so it's quite clear that he knows, or that you think he might know who your ex is. You've let slip some details: his father is a powerful man and owns a big company, though you didn't tell him what kind of business the company is in. You said he frequented a lot of events, so he's from an influential family or, at least, has a lot of money. He's from Grand Line City, though that fact is basically useless since it's an overly populated, bustling city. 

This doesn't narrow it down much. Assholes with a lot of money are a dime a dozen. He doesn't even have to go too far, Doflamingo is just in the other wing of the mansion. 

With a sigh that screams finality and closure, Law lets it go. If you didn't mention it, it’s because he doesn't need to know, or you don't want him to. Both perfectly valid reasons. He also didn't want you to know about Monet. What a fucking mess. Now you know and your purpose didn't waver one bit.

As sleep finally claims him, the last thought on Law's mind is that his trust in you wavered, but it's now built up so high that he's willing to bet everything he owns on how you won't disappoint him. Not even if Doflamingo brings his big guns. 

Whatever they may be. 

-*-

You don’t dislike mornings. They might not be your favourite thing in the world, but they aren’t the worst. Sometimes you like to spend a few extra minutes in bed, lazing around because there is nowhere softer than your bed. 

Except today you aren’t in your own bed. 

Yet, you have never felt safer or more content than at this exact moment. Even without opening your eyes, your brain clicks into place and you know why. Law. You remember him holding you, though you don’t really remember falling asleep. 

With a contented sigh, you open your eyes and see a pair of soft amber orbs gazing at you. He seems so bare without his stern gaze, it’s a sort of vulnerability - you notice - but not like the unhinged one he showed you last night. This vulnerability doesn’t stem from pain or sorrow… it’s… affection?

“Morning.” He whispers and you smile.

You don’t remember being this entangled with him when you fell asleep. You only had your head on his chest now, it would appear that sometime during the night, you shifted and draped your leg over his, arms hugging his torso tightly.

You should let go.

There’s an annoying voice in your head telling you this is wildly inappropriate, that it’s crossing some kind of unspoken barrier, yet he doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the proximity and you’re experiencing bliss. So you don’t move. Not yet, at least.

“Morning.” You say back to him. Your voice is still throaty and scratchy and, for a moment, you can’t remember why it’s like this, until images of Ichiji flash through your mind, erasing your smile and darkening your gaze.

Law shifts slightly and you think you’re overstaying your welcome so you start to move. Instead, he pulls you tighter, his hand tipping your chin to keep you looking at him. “It’s all in the past, okay?” His fingers climb and graze your ear, where your earring would be if you were wearing one. The signal. “You’re with me now. I’m the only one allowed in your mind, sweetheart, understand?”

He uses that velvety voice, laced with a hint of authority and you clench your thighs instinctively. He might’ve said that for the purposes of your fake relationship, but he’s right. Ichiji is past and he has no more right to claim space in your mind. 

“Use your words, you know I like to hear you speak.” The drawl in his voice is more pronounced in the morning, you notice, raspier, sexier. Just another fact to add to the never-ending list of things you now know about Trafalgar Law. What will you do with all that information when you inevitably part ways?

You take a deep breath, blush and look to his chest before opening your mouth, but the words remain frozen in your throat when his whisper tickles your forehead. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! It’s too soon for these games! And you're pressed so close to him that you’re sure he can feel the way your nipples hardened at his gentle command. Yet you’re compelled to do as he says so you look up, lips parted, small, panted breaths escaping them and flushed cheeks. There’s a hint of something in his gaze, something darker than lust, bordering on obsession, but you dismiss it quickly.

“I understand, Law.” You reach and use the signal in his ear, just a faint touch, but he doesn’t stop your hand, so you let it fall down and trace the curve of his perfect jawline, then your ghost of a touch moves to his neck and collarbone. You see his throat bob up and down and the fact that you might be affecting him exhilarates you, so you press on. Your fingers trace down his T-shirt and follow the shape of his pecs, lingering on the nipple and he hums low, not quite a warning, he must be enjoying your touch. “I will only be thinking about you…” Your eyes drop to the way his chest heaves slightly and you catch your lower lip with your teeth to contain a satisfied sound.

The hand he has on your back climbs up and he entangles his fingers in your hair, gripping them and tilting your head gently so you can return your gaze back into his eyes. You let out a gasp, they’re dark with desire. “And what will you be thinking about, exactly? What will I be doing in that pretty little head of yours?”

Your leg is still entangled with his and you have to fight your desire to shift and straddle him, but your fingers keep going lower. They trace his abs now and they’re as firm as a wall. Your head starts to fill with deep fantasies about what Law could be doing to you in your head, but they’re all so real and consuming, and you’re both in such an already vulnerable position, that you know any spark can ignite this flame between you, so you swallow hard and sigh. 

“Kissing. You’re kissing me.” That should be safe enough, right?

Wrong.

Law grabs your hand just as you - unconsciously - hook a finger on the waistband of his pants. Boundaries, boundaries! Stupid decision! Yet he doesn’t say anything, he simply rolls you over, his knee slotted between your legs, just as you were before, and he raises both your hands above your head. His eyes devour your surprised expression as a lone gasp leaves your lips. 

“You know what to do to get me to kiss you, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Beg.

“Please, Law…” You don’t even try to fight it. He’s watching you with hungry eyes, hair unkempt into perfection, a sleepy, dreamy look on his features and you need him to kiss you.

“Please what?” He leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours, and your hands twitch instinctively, but he’s holding them in place. His other hand presses slightly against your neck, feeling your pulse racing under his thumb.

“Kiss me! Please kiss me, Law, pl-mmmph.” He swallows your pleas as his lips crash against yours.

You can feel him pressed against your thigh, and the thought makes you moan softly into his kiss. He uses that opening to take your tongue in his and deepen the kiss. It’s desperate, it’s lustful, it’s-...

Knock, knock, knock.

Over.

Law grunts and rolls off you, recovering his voice way faster than you ever could. “Who is it?” However, you can detect a hint of impatience and annoyance. 

“It’s me!” Cora answers and Law sighs. He gets up, slightly adjusts his pants, and, checking back to see if you’re covered, opens the door with a scowl. “Morning, Law! I’m so sorry to bother you two so early, I really am!” He does sound sorry. “Baby 5 wanted to let everyone know that she moved the brunch one hour earlier because she has games planned for after and she doesn’t want anyone to be late. Especially you two.” He lowers his voice. “She loved your girlfriend, Law! We all did.”

You blush and smile to yourself. You must be doing something right, then. Law’s family liked you. Well… maybe not Doflamingo yet, but you don’t need him to like you, you just need him to leave Law alone. 

When Law speaks, his voice is warmer. “Sure thing, Cora. We’ll get ready soon. Thank you for letting us know.”

“Anytime! Ouch!” You hear the sound of glass tinkering and something crashing before Law sighs and Cora says ‘I’m okay! It was just a vase!’ 

When Law closes the door, you’re already up and heading towards the bathroom. “I’ll be ready soon.” You state before closing the door. 

Slumping your body forward, you grasp the porcelain of the sink, taking rapid, shallow breaths. What is going on? You two keep using the signal and saying things like ‘If this were real…’ yet, you’re thinning the borders of the boundaries, mixing emotions and lust and sorrow from your past. You should stop.

For both your sakes, you should stop.

Perhaps you should not touch each other outside the pretence in front of Law’s family. Because he kisses you with such ferocity that it’s as if you’re his. Like you belong to him, though you’re just friends. But are you really just friends?

This tension and attraction keep building and expanding and there’s only so much space to take before it explodes, consuming you both. 

And by all that is sacred, how you wish to be consumed by Trafalgar Law. You want to give everything of yourself to him, to drown in his golden gaze, to be lost inside his kiss, to feel all of him within you. 

Could it be so wrong, if you gave in to your desires? You’re sure he wants you too… It's mutual. But… would it be too complicated, emotionally?

You sigh and start to work on your morning routine. You’ll just have to get through this weekend without entangling yourself further. Once you’re both out of this stifling, constricting environment, you’ll deal with whatever it is you share.

Or might share.

-*-

As with dinner last night, brunch and the afternoon games require a semi-casual fit and you select another cocktail dress. The rehearsal dinner is formal, though, so you and Law will have to change before dinner time. 

“You look stunning.” Is his usual compliment, one you should already be accustomed to but, as you become more aware of the growth of your feelings for this man, the more flustered you get. “You don’t have to worry, I won’t let Doffy mess with your head today.” Law seems much more composed this morning. Maybe after the initial shock of interacting with his uncle again - and now that Doffy doesn’t have the same ammunition as he did yesterday - Law won’t let himself be rattled by his provocations so easily. 

“Maybe I should say the same?” You smile and he grunts back an agreement. “So, brunch and games? What kind of games?”

Law sighs as you both exit your room, his hand holding yours, just as he did yesterday. Yet, today, you can’t help a tingle of electricity from climbing up your arm at his touch. ‘Tell me you’re mine.’ You have to shake your head to get rid of your thoughts. You’ll never be able to forget those words. 

Just four words alone can undo you. 

“Who knows what games… Baby 5 is all about internet trends and Pinterest aesthetics. I’m sure it’s something boring, dumb and flashy.” You giggle at his silliness as you both descend the steps. Baby 5 told you yesterday that more guests would be spending the day at the mansion as part of the wedding festivities, so you’re already expecting more people, about a dozen more or so, as is usual in rehearsal dinners. But as soon as you step outside to the garden, you gasp. There have to be about fifty more people than yesterday. It already feels like a small wedding. 

Does Law know all of these people? 

Pressure starts to build in your temples as you think about all the people you are now required to fool. What if you can't do it? What if someone knows Law from childhood and asks you a question you don't know how to answer? Can one question alone crumble this facade?

Biting your lower lip and squeezing Law's hand tighter, you start to mumble about Law's education growing up, and private tutors, as well as all the extracurricular activities he took in high school. Will it come up? Probably not, but it's better to be prepared and-... 

“Relax.” Law's soothing voice against your ear makes you whimper and shiver. He startled you since you were so deep in thought, but your reaction wasn't about the jump scare. It was the tingling that's still warming your skin, the electricity that shook you to your core. How are you going to survive two and a half more days of this tension? 

You take a deep, steadying breath as Law squeezes your hand back. “You've got this, sweetheart.”

“We’ve got this.” You correct him and he chuckles. 

As you delve deeper into the party, you get a good look around. The garden is huge and luscious, with abundant greenery and beautiful flowers. The white and golden tents where the rehearsal dinner and the eventual wedding will be held tomorrow, cast an ethereal feeling over the scene, a sort of fairytale-like feeling. Brunch is being served outside the tents, on a small patio. There are rows of tables with every food imaginable and your stomach rumbles just by looking at it. 

“Hungry?” Law asks with a chuckle. 

“Yeah.” You whisper. “It's been an eventful night. I could eat!” Crying makes people hungry, apparently. 

You and Law make your way to the buffet and fix yourselves a plate, all the while Law keeps introducing you to people: family friends, investors, business partners… He knows everybody. It's overwhelming. The way he handles these people makes you wonder why he doesn't want to follow in Doflamingo’s footsteps. He'd be wonderful at it, he's a natural, though you notice he seems a bit stiffer than his usual self. As a doctor, he’s so much more at ease and it dawns on you that it’s most likely because he loves what he does. 

Law's speaking with an important investor a few feet away from you, and you find yourself staring at him, a strawberry dangling over your lips as you take him in: tanned skin, golden eyes, sharp features and beautiful dark hair. Fuck. He's perfect. You bite the strawberry and suck, your eyes darting to his lips and thinking about the smouldering soul-shattering kisses you shared yesterday and this morning. 

“Oh, to be a strawberry, right now.” You swallow hard and stifle a cough, having been brought out of your fantasy world by a whisper near your ear. A cold, shiver-inducing whisper. 

“Doflamingo, sir!” You gasp, trying to regain your composure and shake away the cold chills that linger on your skin. 

“What was that pretty head of yours thinking about so seriously, princesa?” He hums low, his figure hunkering down over you, making you feel small and trapped. But you are intent on not letting him get to you. 

Squaring your shoulders you train your smile back onto your lips. “I was just observing your nephew, sir. It's like he's in his element speaking with investors. He has a lot of business savvy.” Your smile softens as Law locks eyes with you, his gaze hardening as he sees Doffy next to you. 

Doffy's chuckle is cold and calculated. “Cariño, I know he's perfect for the job. He just never wanted it. Maybe you can convince him?” Your head whips to the side as your eyes bore into his. You can see the red glinting behind his sunglasses and it's like it's piercing straight into your soul. 

“I would never.” You relish in the way Doffy's smile falters. He was probably waiting for you to cater to his needs, trying to please him. “Law is a gifted surgeon, a wonderful doctor and very passionate about his job. He might be good with business matters, as he's good with everything he sets his mind to, but it's not his calling.”

Law approaches and catches the ending of your speech. His hand slithers and takes hold of your waist pulling you against him. The way he smiles at you warms your heart and you lose yourself in his gaze once more. 

You are so doomed. You're in way too deep. Going back to being friends after this is going to destroy you. 

“You're right, sweetheart, as I've told my uncle repeatedly.” Law's smile as he rests his eyes on his uncle is as surgical as his operations. To his credit, Doffy's is as intimidating as the man himself. Somehow you have the perception that you're standing in the midst of a battle from a war that started long ago. And you feel very out of place. 

“Ah, indeed nephew, you have. But we shall discuss that matter further some other time.” He places his hand near his heart again as his gaze pins you down and you shiver in Law's arms. “Princesa, you're welcome to join me at my table.” He picks up a bowl of strawberries and raises his eyebrow with a lustful smirk. 

Your face flushes so hard that you fear you might combust on the spot. All you trust yourself to do is shake your head, but Law's hand is already pulling you away. “Thank you Doffy. We politely decline.”

-*-

“There's so many people here today…” You murmur as Law pulls you by the waist, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “And they keep staring. People don't really expect to see you with a girl, Law!”

Law grunts and keeps pulling you until he finds a small empty table where you both sit with your food plates. 

“That's not it, sweetheart.” His voice seems strained. 

“What's not it?” You flush under the scrutiny of some investors you saw Law speak with earlier and fidget with your hair. Is there something wrong?

“They're not looking because they don't expect to see me with a girl nor because there's something amiss with your appearance.” He brushes your hand aside, releasing the hair you managed to trap back in your hairdo to how it was. “It's because you're breathtaking.” He sounds annoyed as he says it, and yet you still blush deeper. 

“Shut up, Law.” You sound like a petulant child. But a flattered one. “You're wrong.”

“Sweetheart, I'm never wrong. And these people should learn that staring at what's mine comes with a cost.” He growls as his eyes squint and you can't help a flutter from twisting your stomach. There's that word again: mine. You should feel angry at him for being this possessive, instead, it makes you feel safe and protected. Like he can keep all that can harm you away from you. 

“I'm yours, Law?” You can't help the words from fleeing from your mouth. 

‘I'm yours, Law, all yours.’ You'd said the words. 

The corner of his lips curls as his piercing eyes pin you to the spot. “You are for the weekend.”

Push, keep pushing so you can lose control. 

“How about after?”

His throat bobs up and down and he takes a long gulp of his coffee. “We’re supposed to go our own way. Go back to being friends.” The strain in his voice is nothing compared to the clenching in your chest. 

Push some more. Push. Even if your heart is clenching, your mind keeps telling you to go on. 

“So you won't mind if I date another man?” Law's coffee cup almost shatters with the force he bangs it against the table. Your lips part to let out an amused gasp as the flutter in your belly increases tenfold. 

To his credit, after a dark shadow passes across his eyes, Law quickly regains his composure. “Let's talk about that after this weekend, shall we?” The slight sharpness of the usual velvet of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. 

Can you push a little more until he gives you what you want? 

But what do you want, really? To see how far you can push him until he makes his claim? Until he pins you somewhere and claims your lips with his? It's embarrassing how much you want to get lost in him again, how easily you'll fold if he so much as looks at you a certain way. 

This hold he has on you is scary. And so exciting. “Why not now, Law? I could start networking…” You glance at the guests with a glint in your eye, successfully bothering Law so much that he starts fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. “So many choices.”

You are still finishing your sentence when Law hooks his hand beneath your chair and drags it all the way next to his with a very loud screech. He only stops when his face is inches from yours. “Say that again, sweetheart. Say it while looking right into my eyes.” He sounds a little bit unhinged, maybe you’ve pushed far enough. 

Or have you? 

You touch his earring lightly while a smirk graces your lips. “I'm just stating the obvious, there are so many single-...” You don't finish your sentence because his hand tangles in your hair, pulling you and capturing your lips with his and it isn't in the innocent way he pecks you when in public. It's in the very fiery, soul-shattering way you’re already growing addicted to. 

“Law…” You whisper when he finally lets go, after Baby 5 and some of the younger guests start to cheer you on, your ears as red as a tomato. 

“Gotta let them know you're taken, sweetheart, they keep staring.” Your lower lip is still tingling and burning from the contact as he smirks at you. 

Then he continues to eat the food on his plate as if he hasn't just rocked your world in front of all the guests. 

And he didn't use the signal. 

-*-

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @jqperi @rainbow2312 @ren-ni

|Chapter 10🔞|

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Elysium - Chapter 1

General Marcus Acacius x Reader

In Rome, three things are known. War must be won. Caesar is supreme. And women are useless if not bred and wed. Though you have been shielded from this longer than most, your clock has run out. You must be wed lest you be exposed to a life of poverty. You need a husband. And the General needs a bride.

A/N Hi Friends!!! I know the hype died down… but I’m still on it I’m sorry!!! Anyway I kinda miss this space. Hope you all are doing well!!! All my love!! -Mo

Before I was truly able to understand such things, I watched my father marry his second wife, Alba.

My mother died giving me life, and my father grieved for her for the first seven years of my little life. My tiny heart knew only of harsh words and tear filled apologies for those first seven years. But when Alba came, becoming the second wife, she became my first mother. The first soft smile and soft hand I knew.

I remember so clearly that day, when I snuck into Alba’s room to watch her prepare for her marriage to my father. We had only met each other once before, the morning she was promised to my father. She saw my timid eyes behind the door, and she laughed before calling me in.

Her laugh sounded like bells on a ceremonial horse. Light, tingly on my skin, and a harbinger of celebration. Her skin was , and still is, soft as silk and fragrant of rich lavender. She was draped in white linens and dripping in gold, with pearls strung in her hair.

She picked me up to put me in her lap, even though I was keenly aware of the wrinkles I would give her. She gently put a stray hair back behind my ears, “Thank you for letting me be your mother child. I want you to know that I am honored to care for you and your father in this life.”

Their wedding ceremony was a simple affair. I stayed close to Alba’s side, and never strayed far from either her or her friends who came to the wedding. I watched my father, who smiled and laughed when needed, but I could still tell there was an underlying ache. An ache which he would later… many years later… confess that he was worried about how I would respond to Alba… and if I would ever forgive him for the grief he allowed to eat him alive.

Alba was the perfect mother. An even better friend and wife to my father. She has actively campaigned for an extension of my maiden hood, to allow me to study and be youthful, to have those days she couldn’t have. And I thanked the Gods for a mother to take care of me for my time on earth.

In the garden, behind the grand house of my father, my mother Alba tended to wonderful flowers. Like diamonds they glittered amongst the vines and shady leaves. My father was never a man for many words, but he took care to bring back a plant from any foreign lands he visited on a campaign. Even if they couldn’t be planted, it was the sweet smile that Alba gave him that was medal and honor enough. I would often sit with Alba, reading to her as she tended to her garden, the fruits and flowers and herbs that created a beautiful tableau of creation. Alba could not read… she was not permitted to… and perhaps that was why she sweetly and quietly championed for my education to my father, placating him with sweet words and touches when he worried about my lack of marital prospects.

Now, Alba is not as youthful as when she came into our home. Her jet black hair has a small streak of gray, framing her soft face. There’s small creases in the corner of her eyes when she smiles and laughs. She is somehow more beautiful than ever before. But in recent months, she looks more somber…contemplating… wondering.

And it is in our daily strolls in her gardens, when she grabs my hand, stopping in the farthest corner, “Little dove… we have always been honest with each other yes?”

I pause, having to look down due to her short stature. “Yes mother, of course. Have I done something to upset you?”

She shakes her head vehemently, “No never my dove. But, there is something your father had asked me to keep from you but, I do not think I can any more. Not from you.”

I sit on one of the stone benches placed in the garden, “Mother, please, speak plainly. Are you ill? Is father ill?”

Alba looks around, seemingly checking for prying eyes in the garden, before turning to me, “Your father… he has-“

I hear my father’s booming voice from across the way, from the house. My head and Alba’s whips up, to see my father. Imposing and strong, with his large beard, threaded with silver and black. Beside him, stands a man who I’ve seen many more times in the past few months. General Acacius, one of the most decorated generals in the history of Rome, has become a frequent phantom in my father’s house. He has never said anything, or done anything more than nod at me when I pour his wine at the direction of father. When I play the lyre in the corner of the room, I feel his heated eyes on me , making me flush and sweat. He is handsome. Certainly. But he is more terrifying. He does not have the booming voice of your father. Rather it is the terse nature, the breadth of his form, and the low rumbling of his voice is what makes me gaze at him quietly, guarded and wondering.

Alba nods at me, single handedly holding a dam of secrets, close to breaking. We make it to the steps, and I am keenly aware of the subdued finery of General Acacius. I bow my head, “General Acacius, thank you for blessing my father’s house once more. It is good to see you. “

He bows his head, “It is an honor to be received here my lady. The blessing is mine… to see you.”

My head shoots up, unladylike entirely but the sudden lack of air that makes me want to claw at my neck. Something is wrong. Alba is gripping my father’s wrist and my arm. My father nods, “Let us go into the atrium, wine is served for our purposes today.”

General Acacius offers his arm, and I can’t help but feel I’m being brought to the slaughter. I’m lead to the atrium. There on the table, wine, fine cups, and jewelry. I am seated next to Alba, facing my father and the General. My father leaned forward, grasping my mother’s hand, “Smile child. This is a joyous day.”

I look to the General, who does not seem to share such a sentiment. To my father I say, “Forgive me father… I must be ignorant to the day.”

My father speaks, “It’s the day of your engagement, the eve of your marriage.”

I feel heat rush up my neck. The sweat beginning to trickle down my back. Marriage? To..

“My lady. This is indeed a rushed courtship. You will want for nothing. I have brought bracelets and pearls indicative of my intentions and surety.”

I glance at the table carrying wine. And surely… I have never seen such finery. It’s even more beautiful than the treasure of my mother’s. I look tentatively at the

General, trying to calm my heart, “General Acacius… I am flattered and honored by your gifts… but I did not think you knew me other than my ability to play music or pour wine.”

“Silence Child.”, my father booms, though I do not even look at him. General Acacius puts his hand up, “Peace Old Friend. Your daughter is right. And surely she is not a child anymore,” he turns to me, dark eyes boring into me, “… and she is right. I had yet to make my intentions known till this afternoon. My apologies.”

He shifts in his seat, as if adjusting his fighting stance, “My friend, and my lady, may I have a moment with my bride alone?”

My father and Alba nod standing to leave. My father nods at me, Alba kissing my cheek. They walk arm in arm out into the garden, leaving the General and I alone, save for the two servants in the corner. General Acacius moves with an otherworldly grace to stand beside my own lectus, “May I?”

I nod gently, keeping my eyes trained on his form, taking note of every move. Though I can hardly stand it. Like looking into the night lamps for too long. He commands the air around him, and suddenly I feel like I am lounging on his throne. He faces me, palms facing upward as if holding an offering for me to inspect.

“My lady. I wish to apologize. I did not make my intentions known to you before this day.”

Before I can reign it back into my chest my voice tumbles out, “You’re in need of a breeding mare Dominus?”

I snap my mouth shut, with my eyes bulging wide. To my horror and relief, a small smile shows itself on his face, causing creases in his eyes, a chuckle is coughed out. “Your father said you were a handful, I’m glad to see he wasn’t exaggerating.”

He faces me more, looking for my steeled facade to crack, “My lady… I am not here simply for children. I am reached an age of maturity where my lack of wife is troubling to my advisors and staff. I am in need of a wife to manage my properties. A intelligent person who I can trust. And… your father has described to me that you have yet to find a husband.”

My shoulders straighten out, a feeble attempt at taking up more space on this shared lectus. “Do you think I need a husband Dominus?”

“Would you rather I lie to you for your comfort?”

“No.”

“Rome will one day see no need for a woman to be married. I’ve known many a woman to be more competent than the men around her. Even I. But unfortunately… Rome has not seen that yet.”

A beat. A breath. General Acacius sighed, “I do not think you need me. Not really. If this was a different world. But as it stands… I need a wife for stability and you need a husband for security.

My lady… you will want for nothing in my house. The grounds, yours. The staff, yours. The title, yours. My wealth, yours. Continue to study in my house, and use your education to manage the house and money how your see fit. All I ask, is that you be loyal to my house.”

I feel a big swoop in my chest, like I’m standing on the ledge of a great precipice. I feel my skin on fire. Though he is this great man, a most decorated general… he kneels before me. He needs a wife.

I did not envision a husband for myself. I imagined myself passing under the eyes of any man who came across me, covered in a gossamer veil of anonymity. I did not ask for love. I did not ask for a husband. In the corner of the room, I see my father staring intently.

I may not want to be married. But I will be. One man or another. Rome does not deal with unmarried women.

General Acacius turns, and sees my father. He turns back to me. His voice rumbling like a summer storm, “The burden will be light. Though I cannot force your hand.”

Burning embers stare from behind thick lashes. I slide my hand into his waiting palms, “I accept your offer Dominus. May our union be merry.”

His whole body slackens, closing his eyes for rest that finally seemed to come. He reached to the box, pulling out a golf arm band, engraved with laurels and a mighty horse. He presents it to me, “The symbol of my house. Wear it, and all will know you are the focus of my eyes.”

I nod, and I gasp at his touch caressing up my arm. As if I am made of glass he slides the arm band up, cool and firm. Though I stare at the band and its subtle richness, I feel his piercing gaze on my face. I whisper, “Thank you Dominus.”

He stands, gently beckoning me to stand, my hands in his. General Acacius presses my knuckles to his lips, the softness surprising me, “Thank you.”

My mother and father approach, my father joyous and self satisfied at his match. My mother embraced General Acacius like a new son, before turning to me. She kissed my cheek quickly whispering, “You will be blessed. The Gods see you.”

In a solemn recitation of contract, and the sharing of wine, I am promised to General Marcus Acacius, most honored General of Rome. There is no laughter. No giggling and peeking behind doors. There is no one to share it with.

Once the contract is settled, we see General Acacius out. In swift and powerful motion, he mounts his horse. His gaze passes over my father and right to me, “I will be back in three weeks to fetch you. My servants will be here in a weeks time to assist in preparation for the marriage banquet. They will have my purse, spend whatever you wish. I will see you soon my lady.”

Without another word, he takes off with the speed of the wind. My father grunts walking inside, calling for his servants to begin preparing for my wedding feast. I hear Alba speaking, but it is all rushing water over me. All I can hear is the pounding of his horse in the distance. All I can see is my husband riding home. My new home.

[ghostlyfleur]

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

eddie munson x new girl

contents: new girl referred to as angel, lovesick!eddie, strangers to friends to lovers, hellfire club, dustin henderson cameo, mutual pining, inexperienced!reader, shy!reader, maybe fairy!reader but i’m not sure yet.

word count: ~1k

summary: eddie lets his love consume him, and he’s okay with it.

eddie munson is down bad. in love. completely enamored. shot by cupid. and she’s beautiful. the fairest maiden in all the land.

she’s all flowery dresses, flowy skirts, cozy sweaters, butterfly clips in her hair, fairy wing eyeliner design and shimmery glitter on her eyelids, sparkly pink lipgloss, highlighter on her cheekbones— the prettiest angel he’s ever seen. absolutely ethereal. the thing is, she’s terribly clueless. oblivious, even. her and eddie have built a lovely friendship over the last few months, ever since he met her when he picked dustin up from the library. that’s when it happened. that’s when he got hit. an arrow straight through his heart.

his angel — because she must be an angel, with the way the sun followed her around and made her shimmer — was aiding dustin with his search, trying to find books on supernatural lore that he could take inspiration from for the campaign he was putting together. it was dustin’s first campaign in his hellfire club career, and he was taking it very seriously to eddie’s amazement and amusement. but whatever thoughts about dungeons and dragons that were swirling around his head cleared completely at the sight of her; in her white sandals, knee-length white silky skirt, and alice in wonderland graphic tank top she was a sight to behold. a mirage. a dream. sunny disposition, bright smile, fidgety hands, and the most enchanting voice— a siren call, really. and eddie was hooked. it didn’t help that dustin talked his ear off about the nice girl that was quick to provide him with an immense list of folklore and magic lore books that could help him, about fairytales and whimsical creatures.

“she talked about fairies as if she were one, dude, it was sick!” dustin gushed.

eddie noticed the kid kept going back to the same library, kept entering his van afterwards with a list of books and another cute tale revolving around the pretty angel girl of eddie’s dreams. until one day dustin looked all nervous and coy and a little scared, and yeah, usually eddie loved to invoke that same reaction from him, but this time he didn’t know the reason behind it, behind the kid’s hesitant gaze. and truly it couldn’t have been a better reason. dustin wanted the mystery angel to be able to attend hellfire, to watch his campaign.

“‘s the least i can do, man! she helped me with a lot of it and she was like- super interested in my shirt and stuff, please?” eddie’s quick reply, the resounding ‘yes’ he couldn’t hold back, caught dustin by surprise but he didn’t question it. don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, right?

angel showed up in a long skirt with a flower pattern, converse shoes, and a black queen shirt tucked in. braided hair, lipgloss, and a tupperware box filled with chocolate chip cookies for the whole club.

“my thanks for letting me crash your campaign.”

eddie was hooked. once the session was done and the boys were gone, thanking her profusely for the treats after they picked her brain for cryptid lore, she stayed behind to help eddie tidy up, and they talked about music. she was shy, incredibly so, soft spoken and giggly and socially awkward, but she laughed at eddie’s jokes and playfully teased him once or twice, and complimented his bats tattoo, so eddie offered her a ride home. she gracefully declined, claiming she drove herself, so he walked her to her car instead.

plans were made so that she attended each of dustin’s campaign sessions and through those sessions, the clean up afterwards, the talks about music and bands and movies, their time together evolved to going for milkshake afterwards, a coffee shop for some hot chocolate sometimes, and a friendship blossomed. a very strong one at that.

being alone, living alone, existing alone was kind of her thing— she preferred to be by herself, to indulge in her hobbies on her own, because she was anxious. extremely anxious. but apparently not at all reserved about it or ashamed of talking about it, which was proven by the fact that she casually let it slip pass her lips that she had an anxiety disorder the very first time she was alone with eddie after hellfire.

not a single sign of shame or guilt in admitting it, and eddie admired that.

admired that she was a loner even though she was so polite and kind, ready to send anyone she walked past a smile because she knew how much it mattered to those who needed a little kindness. a quiet soul but couldn’t shut up if you cared enough to figure out her interests, she laughed at everything, giggled without reason sometimes, talked to herself a lot, was often lost in daydreams, had a dark sense of humor surprisingly. complex but friendly. eddie couldn’t get enough, always wanting to find out more about her, to talk to her more, to understand her more.

but most importantly, in her opinion, eddie allowed her to be herself without any judgment. encouraged her even. and that was priceless. so yes, a strong friendship bloomed, but neither one of them wanted to stop at just that. the dark haired boy was quickly aware of his growing feelings, his attraction, his infatuation that turned to love, while his angel didn’t clock in on her emotions quite so fast, being entirely inexperienced and lacking any previous romantic validation. her anxiety and introverted tendencies played a part in that too, probably.

but that’s alright, eddie is more than okay with waiting for her to catch up.

♡

── harmo’s footnotes:

i love thinking about our sweet eddie falling for a soft girl. he deserves a cozy, comfy, cute love story! please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. eddie dreams.

ghostlyfleur © — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, or translate.

[neurthotic]

can you please do dabi as a bf again but more explicit (nsfw)? tysm

DABI AS A BOYFRIEND II

Not My Type: Dead As Fuck 2 - Motionless In White

__________________________________

Dabi enjoys giving head as much as getting it, actually.  he likes the way you flinch and shudder when the burned skin on his face scrapes harshly against your sensitive inner thighs. he likes locking eyes with you across your heaving chest to watch you struggle to stay coherent, his slow grin against you exposing sharp teeth to your hopelessly overstimulated parts.

but this doesn’t stop him from plunging his fists into your hair when it’s your turn to get on your knees for him, gritting obscenities through clenched teeth and tensing tight as a bear trap as he tries to refrain from smashing his hips into your face hard enough to break your nose.  his knees cradle your head—sometimes his superheated hand cups the column of your throat to feel the bulge in it as he slides in and out.

the other thing. his body temperature skyrockets when he’s turned on, the fire inside him boiling to the surface to simmer behind his eyes and in his fingertips.  and in other places.  you better hope he doesn’t cum in your throat because it will leave burns all the way down.  (you have swallowed, once or twice, anyway—for once in his life, it left Dabi well and truly flustered, pupils so large they nearly turned his eyes black with the dopamine rush as he computed what had happened.  he probably abruptly called you a whore and then pulled you into his chest, his heartbeat slamming against your ear like a jackhammer, before getting you water and stroking your hair like he was hypnotized.)

a thousand wild horses couldn’t take this hc away from me: Dabi has a bizarre infatuation with pain.  the nerve damage leaves him with such a high tolerance that it registers as nearly orgasmic when it happens.  he’s constantly trying to get you to be rougher with him, eyes searing and delirious in the dim light as he murmurs in your ear.  “bite there again, pretty, make it bleed this time.”  “that slap won’t bruise. do it again.”  he contents himself with the darkest hickies you can suck into his damaged collarbone, but before he drifts off to sleep, or when he jerks off, the hazy images that imprint on his brain are more like you stabbing his abdomen with pocket knives or chewing his little finger off. it would be pretty hot if you killed him one day

steam hisses off of his overheated body and out of his mouth in copious white plumes when he finishes with a groan, muffled into the top of your head as he holds you. his wiry body spasms with aftershock.  if there aren’t tears streaming down your face from sheer overstimulation, and small, scuffed burn marks where his searing flesh ground too roughly against yours all over your body, he won’t be satisfied.  there’s almost never an ‘i love you,’ but this is his favorite feeling in the world— cooling down with you in his arms, listening to you try and catch your breath, your heaving chest pressed tight to his.  good luck trying to get up to pee. 

_____________________________________

[ sorry this ended up way long + i have no experience writing this stuff LMAO but i hope you enjoyed anon 🫶 thank u for the request! ]

[dr-spectre]

I watched this YouTube shorts video which has over 100k likes on it where it basically went "oh the Splatoon fandom is weirdddddd!!! It has weird porn in it guys!!! Isn't that crazy?!?! It's so toxic guys!!! They found ways to weaponise racism guys!! They are so vile about splatfests guys!!!! They are gooning to splatoon characters!!! They are kids!!"

I hate to break it to you dude but.... that's literally every fanbase in existence.

Every single fandom on planet earth has weird porn in it. Splatoon is no different. Is it fucking weird to goon over the player Inklings and Octolings as they are confirmed to be under 18? YES! VERY VERY WEIRD AND THAT BEHAVIOUR NEEDS TO GET CALLED OUT!!!!!! But a large majority of fans who engage in NSFW content are looking at the Idols and other adult characters, not the literal teenagers. Plus adult Inkling and Octoling ocs do exist, i should know BECAUSE I MADE MY OWN!!!!!

Also do not judge people's fetishes unless it's actively harming someone or it's illegal. That's wrong on so many levels. Stop making people feel guilty about what they are into man. If someone wants to make an NSFW art piece with Marie's feet then I'm not gonna judge them publicly for it. That's straight up rude and the guy in the video was basically doing that by showing some stolen fetishy art and adding an "eww" audio clip on it... Fuck off dude. Leave them alone.

He also got the release year of Splatoon wrong by saying 2013 instead of 2015.... Not the worst mistake but still... Kinda paints a picture on how much he truly cares about this franchise you know?

One of his points can be boiled down to "they are using splatfests as a way to weaponize racism." What the FUCK are you talking about? The last time i remember a Splatfest being toxic was in Splatoon 1 with CALLIE VS MARIE! THAT WAS REALLLLLLLL BAD! Other than that it's been friendly jokes and little jabs at the enemy teams. He fucking used this terrible video as a way to demonstrate his point too....

Every Splatoon fan on the planet doesn't like that video, It just comes off to me as so disingenuous.

Also fun fact! SPLATOON 1 TO 3 HAD UNDERLYING THEMES ABOUT RACISM WITH THE INKLINGS AND OCTOLINGS!!!!!! Splatoon 1 was about the introduction of that idea and it was very black and white with hints of grayness found in the sunken scrolls. Splatoon 2 was about making it more gray as Callie joined the Octarians and THE ENTIRETY OF OCTO EXPANSION!!!!!!!!!!! Splatoon 3 was the conclusion to that theme with DJ Octavio helping out the NSBS and Octolings co-existing with Inklings peacefully. But did he bring that up? NOPE!!!!!!!

Trying to paint the Splatoon fandom as some "toxic trojan horse" is just... fucking wrong. There are plenty of fandoms out there that are 100x worse than Splatoon's. The Splatoon community is extremely diverse and sure there are issues that need to fixed and yes there is racism. The Splatoon community is leagues above any other shooter game community by far. Play a bunch of quick play matches of Overwatch or TF2 to see what I'm saying. You're gonna be seeing the n word more times than a Quintin Tarantino movie.

Also he talked about peak character design in the Splatoon games, and the one character he mentioned was.... Big Man... The only male Idol and not anyone else. That just seems a bit.... suspicious to me...

[h3rmess]

SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY

Written by @h3rmess ✰

navi☆

-> cowboy!satoru x afab!reader x cowboy!suguru

warnings - SMUT! use of swear words, use of some spanish (im not native so please correct me if I got something wrong!!) Spanish translation at the end!!

notes - im literally screaming satosugu as cowboys have me in a CHOKEHOLDDD - smut is not usual from me pls don't cringe, or I'll cry

Wandering into the unfamiliar town, I looked around for anything that could indicate my next move. My horse, Lucky, was worn out beyond belief. The summer heat was like no other as she trotted through the desert. I dismounted, spotting a stable a few steps away from us. I led my girl into the stable, the shade it provided, relieving us instantly. I looked around to see if anyone was there.

"Hello? Anybody here?" I hollered, receiving no reply. With a huff, I stroked Lucky's head, comforting her, urging her to hold up a little longer.

A whistle echoed through the stable, catching my attention instantly.

"Well, ain't she a beauty!" His boots clicked on the ground, his hands in the loopholes of his jeans as he made his way in front of us.

"She really is." I looked at Lucky, petting her as she shook her head, neighing.

"I wasn't talking about the horse, muñeca." His voice deepened, igniting something in me.

He made his way closer towards me, inspecting me with careful eyes, his long black hair flowing out of his hat.

"What's a beauty like you doin' 'round here?" He neared me, his slender eyes making me feel like I had to submit to him.

"Oh! I - uh, got a lil' lost." I tried my best to maintain composure.

"Well, don't worry, amor, we'll take good care of you." He slung his arm around me, the proximity only worsening the heat I felt.

"W-we?" I stuttered, causing him to chuckle and turn his head to look behind him.

"Satoru!" He shouted.

As if on cue, a man came in riding a gorgeous brown horse, looking absolutely majestic.

"Yeah? Oh my!" He exclaimed, immediately jumping off his horse and walking towards me. "Who's this?" He asked the black hair man.

"She hasn't told us yet. What's your name, guapa?"

Me breath hitched before I told him, a satisfied hum leaving both their mouths.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady." The man with white hair spoke, taking his sunglasses off to reveal his huge, blue eyes. The colour mesmerised me, causing me to freeze in place, completely unable to move.

"¿Qué pasó, princesa? Cat got your tongue?" The person who I figured to be Satoru taunted, moving closer to me.

My heart beat quickened and I began to swear, thinking only one thing about these men ; they are so fuckable.

"What did you come here for, hm?" The black haired man spoke, his tone making me want to drop to my knees.

"My- uh- m-my horse, Lucky. She's dehydrated, and I wanted to get her some food, water, and rest." I stumbled over each word, making a fool of myself.

"Hear the way she's stuttering, Suguru!" Satoru nudged the black haired man as they both chuckled.

"She truly is precious. Can't let a gem like you get away now, can we?" Suguru's hand found its way to my chin, holding it firmly and lifting my head up to look into his eyes. "We'll get ya all fixed up, alright? Don't you worry, linda."

I nodded dumbly at the two men, following them into where the horses were kept, leading my girl on behind me.

They kept to their word, making sure Lucky had enough food and plenty of water and then allowing her to sleep. I was so grateful to them for lending us their resources out of the kindness of their hearts.

Those same hearts that I hadn't known wanted nothing more than to bend me over.

"She's all rested now, alright?" Satoru spoke, taking his hat off and taking a seat in a room separate to the stable. His legs were spread apart as sweat leaked down his semi-exposed chest. I tried to look at any modest part of him, but no matter how hard I tried, he managed to turn my thoughts lewd time and time again.

He sat on one side of me, Suguru, on the other in a similar position.

Would I be able to take them both? They both look so damn sexy right now. I wonder how big they are...

My thoughts caused my thighs to squeeze together. I thought about how they would manhandle me and I wouldn't complain. I yearned for friction, anything to give me a little bit of relief.

"¿Qué estás haciendo, muñequita?" Suguru asked, his hair out of its prevous bun and now falling sluttily onto his shoulders. It only made the heat between my legs grow, my thighs squeezing closer together.

I hadn't noticed, but I was staring. Intensely. I was undressing him with my eyes.

A finger snapped in front of my eyes, which happened to be Satoru's.

"You okay, querida?" He asked, his voice playful.

"Huh?" I replied simply, turning my head to face him.

"You've been looking at us like you want to fuck us since you got here." Suguru chimed in, making my face flush in embarrassment.

I tried to speak, but no words came out.

"You want us to fuck you, hm?" Satoru hummed, his sweet voice making a squirm slightly.

I nodded furiously, waiting for either of them to make a move.

"Use your words, mami." Suguru sent me over the edge as he placed his hand on my thigh, inching up closer and closer to my heat.

"Yes. Please, I need you... both of you." I mewled pathetically, embarrassed by the words that had just come out of my mouth.

With no hesitation, Suguru slipped his hands under my thighs, hoisting me up onto his lap. I felt his hardness underneath me, instinctively rolling my hips slowly over it, earning a soft grunt from him. His hands found my waist, caressing it up and down, further riling me up.

Satoru took my face in his hands, turning my head towards him and kissing me. He ate at my mouth, covering every single inch of my lips. I groaned into the kiss as Suguru's hands slipped under my skirt, holding onto the rim of my panties.

I grinned against him even harder, feeling Satoru's tongue slip into my mouth, digging its way down my throat.

"Calmate, girl!" Suguru announced, holding my hips to prevent any more movement.

Satoru pulled away from my lips, finding his way to my neck and sucking on the tender skin. I whimpered at his movements, making me grip on to Suguru's shoulders tighter than before.

His hands reached under my skirt, placing a singular finger pad on my clothed bunch of nerves. I cried out, needy and desperate, already fucked-out.

"So pretty..." Satoru whispered on my neck, the sensation paired with the praise, only making me wetter. I whined as I leaned into Suguru's chest.

"Please..." I cried as he massaged me, longing for closer contact.

"Hmm? Please what, amor?" His eyes were stuck on my tits which were squashed against his chest, making his cock twitch.

"I need you.." Satoru pulled away as I spoke, whisking me up and placing me on his lap, taking over Suguru's role.

"Need us how? Dime qué quieres, muñeca." Suguru's lips kissed my collar bone as Satoru unbuttoned my top.

I could only whimper as Satoru's left hand slipped beneath my panties, playing with my slick.

"She's so wet!" Satoru exclaimed, his lack of speech only to be blamed on him being completely immersed in the moment.

His finger moved to Suguru, who opened his mouth and sucked on it, tasting me.

"So sweet..." He groaned, palming himself through his jeans as he kissed my neck once more.

"I need to taste straight from the source. Would you like that, hermosa?" Satoru asked, pushing me down onto my back and moving himself in line with my still covered heat.

I nodded as he tugged at my panties before he stopped and looked up at me.

"Quiero oírte decirlo. Tell me that you want it." He asks for my consent as his face is between my legs, possibly being the hottest thing I've experienced.

"I want it." I tell him as he smirks, kissing up my thighs and sliding my panties down my legs.

"So pretty for us." He says, delving into my folds.

"The prettiest." Suguru adds.

TRANSLATION :

Muñeca = doll

Amor = love

Guapa = pretty

¿Qué pasó, princesa? = what happened, princess?

Linda = cutie

¿Qué estás haciendo, muñequita? = what are you doing, dolly?

Querida = dear

Mami = mommy

Calmate = take it easy

Dime qué quieres, muñeca = tell me what you want, doll

Hermosa = gorgeous

Quiero oírte decirlo = I want to hear you say it

[nyoomfruits]

25, landoscar!

25. “Can I just keep you?” “It doesn't work that way.”

Oscar finds Lando on the curb outside of the club, hunched forward, a little ball of black fabric and curls. “Hey mate,” He says, stepping off his bike, parking it against a wall before making his way over to him.

“Bleh,” Lando says, to his knees. “Lea’ me ‘lone.”

Oscar nudges his foot against Lando’s thigh. “Can’t, unfortunately. Promised Max I’d get you home safe.”

Lando’s head shoots up, his eyes bright and mouth slightly parted. “Oscar?”

“Yeah, bud. Max called me, said he needed someone to take you home. You okay?” Oscar kneels down in front of Lando, eye sight. Checks him over. He looks okay, aside from being absolutely fucking sloshed.

“’M fine,” Lando mumbles, tips forward a little, towards Oscar. “It’s just. Everything’s spinning. Like. Fast. Sooooo fast.”

“Oh no,” Oscar says, rather deadpan, trying and failing to subdue the smile that tugging at his lips. He should be annoyed, maybe, about being dragged out of bed at 3 in the morning because his flat mate is ready to pass out in the middle of the street and there’s no one else to get him home safe. But like, it’s Lando. He hasn’t really figured out how to be annoyed at Lando yet.

“Yeah,” Lando says, miserably, looks up at Oscar with big, sad eyes. “Like those horses. That go in a circle. You know? They’re like on a platform and they just go weeeeee,” Lando makes a spinning motion with his finger.

“A carousel,” Oscar says, getting up and extending a hand towards Lando. “C’mon, let’s get you up, yeah? I’ll take us home.”

“Home,” Lando sighs wistfully, taking Oscar’s hand in his and letting himself be dragged upright.

And god, it gets Oscar every single time, how fucking beautiful Lando is. Even now, with his shirt buttoned up wrong and a mysterious stain on his jeans and his hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes slightly unfocused he’s the most gorgeous think Oscar’s ever seen.

Life would be so much easier, Oscar thinks, if he didn’t have such a truly embarrassing crush on his flat mate.

“Bike’s over there,” Oscar says, tearing his eyes away from the curl stubbornly stuck to Lando’s temple.

“Ah yes, take me to your mighty stead. Wait, actually, does that make you my white prince on a charming horse? Wait, no, white horse on a charming… No, that’s not it either.” Lando frowns deeply.

“Sure,” Oscar says, smiling fondly as he pushes his bike in front of Lando and Lando clambers on. “I’ll be you prince charming. Now please hold on tight, yeah? No ‘King of the world’ shenanigans like last time.”

“Boo,” Lando says, but dutifully wraps his arms around Oscar’s waist, slipping his hands into the front pocket of Oscar’s hoodie. “Nice. Hand warmer.”

Oscar merely rolls his eyes and kicks off the curb, ignoring the flutter his heart makes at the feeling of Lando’s hands on his stomach, almost burning through the fabric of his hoodie. There’s only a little wobble before he gets the bike properly going, getting better and better at biking places with someone on the back mostly because Lando doesn’t have a car and Oscar has a hard time saying no to him.

Lando lets his head flop forward, against Oscar’s back, sighs happily into the fabric of Oscar’s hoodie. “You’re the best, you know. Like, an angel. Prince Charming. Prince Angel Charming.”

Oscar snorts, steers the bike down the abandoned streets towards their apartment.

“I wish I could like, keep you,” Lando says, leaning his head on Oscar’s shoulder, his breath only inches away from Oscar’s face, brushing against his cheek with every exhale. “Like, make you small and put you in my pocket and then I could take you out if I was sad.”

Oscar shakes his head, smiles to himself. “I don’t think it works that way, mate.”

“Bleh,” Lando says, rolls his head off of Oscar’s shoulder and flops it against his back again. “The world sucks.”

“’M sorry,” Oscar says. He steers the bike into an alley, narrowly avoids a fallen over trash can.

“’S okay. Sucks a little less with you in it,” Lando mumbles into his hoodie.

Oscar smiles a little sadly. Lando says things like that sometimes. Most often when he’s drunk. It’s. Nice. But it’s not. He doesn’t mean it the way Oscar means it. Which is fine. Oscar’s made his bed and flopped the fuck down onto it from the first time he met Lando and thought oh. It happens, when you pine for someone who can have whoever they want.

But still. He wishes, sometimes. Hopes. It’s stupid, anyway.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, pulling the bike to a stop in front of their shitty little apartment, savoring the feeling of Lando plastered against him for one last second before they have to step off the bike. “Same.”

[rexwrendraws]

spotted on the wall behind the white horse theater!!

Happy one year to Bolt in the Blue by @valeriianz ! Truly the best band au fics I've ever read, I am Endless' #2 fan forever (#1 is Hob, of course) 💙🎸✨

+ alt. colors for the flyer & other scans:

i love taking advantage of my art uni's massive (MASSIVE) scanners for literally anything i can. it's got the most gorgeous grit and scan banding that photoshop trickery cant replicate (though i try lol). so, yes, i literally printed out the b&w flyers, scanned them in, then added color and printed them again to stick on my wall haha.

when digitally adding color, i wanted it to really feel like black ink on colored paper instead of trying to print on color paper and then scan it again (i have done this before idk). i think the xerox-y look is pretty convincing! the green, pink, and purple are my personal favs.

an irl friend suggest i try non-black-ink versions to see what i liked. i think they look cool but some of the text gets a bit lost. still, i like the pale yellow+red ink one. (this almost makes me want to try riso printing this to see what it'd look like 👀👀).

^ this is what the white horse metal barrier edit looked like before I added the Huji Cam filter lol. it wasn't feeling convincing enough like this, so i actually took a photo of my laptop screen with the filter and somehow that looked more real than the actual shot from the show lol. (also, because i've stared at this screenshot for so long, the orange/yellow June 12th poster? is everything on it a reference?? loll)

anyway, had a lot of fun making this!! feel free to print if you want!! READ THE FIC EVERYONE GO READ BOLT IN THE BLUE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: thanks anon for the request! i needed to write something quick and dirty to get out of my writing slump and this was perfect. i did some minor research on the calgary stampede and i don’t know anything about rodeos or horses (im actually terrified of them) so all inaccuracies are to be taken with a grain of salt. enjoy! 🐴

word count: 1k

tw: minor smut (thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), cowgirl position, p in v, unprotected), dirty talk, innuendo

summary: you watch matty compete in the saddle bronc competition at the calgary stampede

The top bar of the metal railing digs into your stomach as you lean forward, looking from side to side to make sure security isn’t nearby and ready to yell at you. Not that you plan on listening.

Lucky for you though, no one is around and you can happily lean over the rail to get a better look at Matty, behind the gate and ready to start his turn for the Saddle Bronc competition. He’s easy to spot among the other cowboys, his bright white hat and dark blue denim shirt standing out from the crowd. Besides that, you seem to have a special talent for finding your boyfriend in any sized crowd, your body attuned to his.

You tap your cowboy booted foot against the lower rung of the railing, the hollow noise drowned out by the crowds.

Matty’s the last one for this group and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, crossing your fingers that he’ll have the best time.

From behind you, Taryn’s laugh stands out and you look over your shoulder at your boyfriend’s sister to see her face scrunched up in amusement.

“What?” You ask, her laugh contagious.

“It’s like you’ve never seen Matty compete before,” she teases, gesturing to the way you’re leaned up against the railing, upper half hanging in the air, half ready to fall into the dirt with one sudden movement.

You shrug, one chambray denim covered shoulder lifting towards your ears. “Can I help it if I’m obsessed with watching him ride?” You ask, Cheshire Cat grin on your face.

Taryn rolls her eyes at you, but joins you up against the railing a heartbeat later when the gate opens and Matty’s let out onto the dirt of the ring. He trots his horse - Johnny Cash, named by yours truly, in honor of the horse’s entirely black coat and mane - into the center of the ring and looks around, taking in the atmosphere of the Stampede.

He looks imposing, sat up high on the horse, dressed for the rodeo. You’re used to seeing Matty in his cowboy hat and double denim, but there’s something different in his posture when he’s competing.

Before time starts, he catches sight of you and grins in your direction. A quick wink and then the eight second timer starts.

You’ve watched Matty do this before, but it never gets any less scary, watching Johnny Cash do his best to send Matty flying and Matty doing his best to stay in the saddle. His white hat is secured on his head, golden curls grown out into a mullet that you’re on record as hating, nearly touching the collar of his shirt.

His denim-clad thighs are thick and you can see the muscles working as the seconds tick down. He squeezes the horse’s flank and you think about last night, the way you’d ridden his thighs to two messy orgasms, your arousal slicking and matting the coarse golden hairs on his thighs. He’d tensed the thick muscle, flexing it against your cunt, fingers gripping your hips so he could drag you up and down as your rhythm had faltered. Tossing you on your back after and burying two thick fingers into your cunt in preparation for his cock. He’d dragged you back onto his lap, burying himself to the hilt and you’d bounced on his cock until you were both coming, his fingers in your mouth to muffle your moans.

The same fingers that now hold the reins in a similarly tight grip, tendons flexing in his wrist.

You grip the metal rail in your hands, knuckles going white while you hold your breath.

3…

Matty’s thighs flex again. Johnny Cash’s mane flies in the air, his coat like black velvet.

2…

You bite your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, front teeth indenting the slightly chapped skin.

1…

The timer goes off and Matty’s still on the horse, one hand thrown triumphantly in the air and you shriek, jumping up and down with Taryn’s arms around your torso. Your braids smack her in the face but neither of you say anything, too excited that Matt made it the full eight seconds.

The crowd is losing its mind, Matty’s taking a victory lap around the ring, and you’re startled when he appears in front of you, sweat dripping down his temple and chest heaving from the exertion.

Taryn lets out another little shriek of excitement and steps back, knowing her brother is here for you.

“Hey there,” he grins wickedly at you, posture casual as if he’s not in the middle of the rodeo. Johnny Cash lets out a little whinny, the exhale from his nose a hot puff of air.

You scramble back up to the railing, climbing up two rungs and ignoring the press of the hot metal on the front of your thighs so you can get to eye level with Matt. “Hey there, cowboy,” you grin back, reaching out to cup his cheeks and drag his face to yours for a searing kiss. His stubble scratches at your palms and his tongue probes your mouth, licking over your lower lip.

When you break apart, Matty lifts his hat off his head and drops it on yours, the brim slipping over your eyes briefly before he pushes it up with his index finger. You laugh and he nods.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs. “My good luck charm.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” you wave your hand in the air, flushing with the heat of Matt’s gaze. Johnny Cash nudges your leg with his nose and you give the horse a little scratch between the eyes.

His smirk grows and you press your thighs together as best as you can while standing on the rung of the railing. He notices, of course, and leans in to whisper, “learned all my riding techniques from watching you last night, darling.”

And then he’s gone, back to the corral, leaving you wet and wanting, the cowboy hat tipped back over your eyes.

[b0tsbby]

More Trigun Racing AU!!! Wow!!!

Please give no welcome at all for your own safety to the elusive Racer Number 999.

The Pale White Horse. The Silver Angel. The Last Racer. Triple Nine. Maybe even Nines if you’re suicidal. This formidable legend of many names has only ever been seen once on the track 70 years ago. Was it mass hysteria? No one truly knows if he’s real. But something cleared that track in record time, and the unfortunate racers on it never lived to tell the tale…

Talking and Design Notes Under Cut as Usual

Since this is a Stampede au I! Didn’t have a lot to work with from the original content! But it’s okay cause I read Max❤️.

That said I wanted Knives to appear somewhat more uniform then Vash. It is essentially still SEEDS uniform, but I wanted it to feel somewhat at home in a racer setting, a bit more uniform to contrast everyone else who is a little wackier. So designing it close to astronaut attire felt like the way to go. A weird mix of general pro racer attire and something that feels a bit alien and unapproachable. The Onesie situation was also non negotiable. It’s in black now because I read Max❤️.

A lot my inspiration came from Knives’ edgy black Griffith suit he just fucking wore that one time (points to his helmet and the three eyes) as well as the abstract sci fi work of Range Murata.

I love the name 999 for the wordplay on Knives and Nai and Nines and Nine. It is also the last racer number. And the angel number 999 is so perfectly oxymoronic to his whole character and situation I guess it was perfect. Something about the end of everything too.

Knives in this au, like Stampede, still has an obsession with the idea of belonging and home. Where No Mans Land here is a purgatory, a criminal’s playground, Knives has a strong affinity for and desire to reach the stars. But he needs the power within both him and his brother to do that.

His car is dubbed the Ark too, it’s an extension of himself, made out of the material remains of his sisters and his own gate. It can drive on its ‘own’, but doesn’t for the purpose of winning, but rather to enact some form of judgement in one big swoop.

Not actually interested in this game Zazie has orchestrated, but the two are more so on equal footing in this setting, so Knives compromises. His car only appears twice, and he only actually races once. That one time being against his brother…for drama’s sake…

Oh also, glasses are reference to when he really fucked shit up that one time. Crazy swagger (among other things) radiating off this…

[dramaticl0vers]

I need you, protect yourself (Husband! Ardeth Bay x Wife! Reader PART 2)

Your nightmares came back to you, just like they did ten years ago, before you even married Ardeth, only this time it was worse because you had to abandon your children to go with your husband to save the world…again …It felt like an eternity at the beginning.

Investigate the search for Imhotep in secret for months, arrive in London, see how your nephew, whom you had not seen for years, was kidnapped, return to Egypt in search of him… say goodbye to your husband, watching him get lost in the undergrowth from the jungle, not knowing if he was going to survive Anubis' army…Truly traumatic.

But now it was just another nightmare, right? A twisted game that played your head to see you suffer.

You saw the wounds on his face, his tattoos and his tanned skin emerging from the sand, and when you hugged him again…you really thanked God.

Your head was pressed against your husband's injured back the entire trip home, your arms clinging to his chest, as if letting him go from your arms again was mortal… Your head covered with your white linen cloaks, shielding you from the burning sun as the two returned home victorious again, with what was left of the Medjai army following them.

And when they arrived at the town and the cheers of its people could be heard to the heavens, while they cried with joy and threw flower petals at them, you thought that everything had been worth it.

Ardeth got off his horse and helped you off of it. His eyes analyzed yours and finally joined in a passionate kiss, a kiss that you had not experienced in a long time, and that you had hoped to feel. You turned to putty in his strong arms, sighing.

The other families were with the warriors who had returned…and those who did not mourn their loss, but were proud that their sons, husbands, brothers and fathers had died in such a noble cause.

—MOM, DAD!—

Oh, for god's sake, when you heard those two little voices in the crowd, you knew everything had turned out well.

You let go of your husband's arms with euphoria, and looked around, only to see your two kids running towards you. Your eyes suddenly stung with tears and you ran to throw yourself on the ground, just like your husband, who, like you, opened his arms towards them.

Your daughter and son threw themselves into your arms with joy, as tears ran down your face and you hugged them tightly, filling their faces and heads with kisses.

You felt Ardeth's arms around the three of you, you leaned on his chest and continued kissing their heads.

—My children, my babies —

You said, Ardeth caressed your son's head and kissed your hair.

[…]

Your children lay asleep, and music and laughter could be heard from the center of the village from the festival in their honor, you watched the fun of your village with a smile before finally entering your shared tent.

Your eyes fell on Ardeth, who lay standing with his back to you, watching the flames of the torch burn down.

You walked towards him slowly and wrapped your arms around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder blade.

—We're in home…—

You sighed, your husband turned around and hugged you, burying his face in your neck and placing a kiss on it. His beard tickled you and a small giggle left your lips as he clung to you tighter.

—When was the last time you were in my arms like this?—

He asked, kissing your shoulders covered with the black fabric.

—Months ago…—

You said, sighing and closing your eyes.

—Ardeth…do you think…that thing will come back?—

You asked, a shiver running down your spine. Your husband left your neck and took his hands from your waist to your cheeks.

—If he did, I would be calm… I'm talking about, I have the bravest warrior in the entire desert by my side, why should I be afraid?—

He said smiling, kissing your lips. The kiss became more fiery as the minutes passed. You broke away from the kiss and looked at him, with a flirtatious smile and a look that expressed mischief.

—If so, why don't you come and we have a sword fight?—

The Medjai let out a loud laugh and his grip returned to your waist, pulling you close to him forcefully.

—If that mummy was not the cause of my death, I am sure that you will be, woman—

[amiya-shirou]

Spoilers about Miquella and Marika's DLC Lore

Hate how there's so much black and white perspective in the Elden Ring community, especially regarding Miquella and Marika. Sorry if this sounds too much like an aggressive rant, it's not really my intention

"Miquella did fucked up shit which clearly clashes with his previous lore about being kind and compassionate, SOTE has bad writing" even in the base game he was already said to be the most fearsome of the demigods and it was kinda implied that he made kindness his weapon as he knew well how to make others love him, perfectly consistent with Ansbach's speech

"Miquella is manipulative so obviously he never really cared about Malenia" with all the things he did for her? is it so hard to believe he truly cared about his twin sister for the sake of which he went so far as to find ways to protect her from an Outer God's influence? with Malenia seemingly knowing about Miquella's plan and everything?

"Radahn loved his horse and protected people so he was obviously a perfectly good gigachad who could never ever agree with Miquella" he was among the forces attacking Leyndell. his ideal was Godrey - a conqueror, and the first Elden Lord. having an obsession with battle and war certainly doesn't sound like someone who could never do anything wrong, no matter how honorable he might be in battle.

"Marika did a lot of bad things and was a tyrant so obviously she never held any real love for poor Messmer or even Godwin and all she cared about was power." she made blessings to help Messmer specifically, something unique enough it's specified she never did such a thing again. 2 of these are dropped by Tree Sentinels protecting her home village which she bathed with Grace and clearly held deep love for. She went to great lengths to help him with his curse when she could have just killed him or imprisoned him where he coulnd't be of harm like she did with the Omen twins. she smashed the Elden Ring, literally sacrificing her position as queen as that action put her against the Greater Will and resulted in her shackling, which definitely doesn't sound like someone who cares about power and herself alone. And about that, if she's been imprisoned ever since before the start of the game with no one knowing about it, why are most people so easily assuming she voluntarily abandoned and ignored Messmer? she physically couldn't contact him if she wanted to. Like, it's debatable, maybe she did abandon him since before the Shattering, but it definitely doesn't feel that obvious to me, and Messmer misinterpreting her disappearance feels more in tune with the FromSoft style tragedy

all this sounds like those who insisted that since Ranni caused the Shattering then of course she can only be evil and manipulative all the time and clearly holds no real affection for the Tarnished and is only manipulating us as well. Which I feel completely clashes with her questline, narrative and characterization.

Kind people can still do evil, especially if they don't fully realize how bad what they're doing is, or if they think they're making a necessary sacrifice. Cruel, fucked up people can still love, and love might be the very reason why they ended up being so cruel. This is something the whole game is built on, and even before Elden Ring, a constant of the Souls series has been about fighting tragic individuals who ended up in antagonistic positions despite their originally good intentions.

imho Marika and Miquella are both better, more complex character than they would have been otherwise, and leave more to discuss about the game's themes and narratives, specifically because they have multiple facets to them. The hated Queen of the Golden Order was originally a victim. Her kind son who tried to fix his family's wrongdoings discarded so much of himself and did so many things to achieve his dream of compassion that he ended up being just as wrong as his mother. Isn't this much more interesting than putting out an entire game-sized DLC just to say "manipulative evil queen girlboss truly didn't care about anything and just wanted power!!" and "Kindly Miquella is so perfect!!! this surely fits our 'nothing is perfect or eternal and everything is ambiguous' narrative"?

[blerb-f1]

"and Found" - Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader # part two!

this is a part two! Part one is here!

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-xoxo, blerb

“So anyway Charles, about the passport issue”

“Yes”

“We contacted the government and it's going to get here soon. One Issue remains until then. We can't let you out on the streets till we have it. No documents, no license, no drive”

“You are kidding me.” Charles whined, crossing his arms and smacking them onto the table.

“Even Italy has laws. Even for you. I'm sorry, Andrea will drive you where you need to go. Otherwise I might recommend trying cycling? Valtteri seems very happy since he started actively cycling.”

“Like hell I'll get on a bike in Italy - they're going to run me over before I leave this place!”

Had it really come to this? Did Charles Leclerc, Formula One race winner and Ferrari driver been demoted to bicycle?

With his head hanging low, the demotivated driver stepped outside. In his right hand was the key to his new bicycle, attached to a children’s keychain. Just lovely. The two wheeled vehicle was already waiting outside, a garnet red with Ferrari slogan on top. Weren’t these the free company handouts a few years ago? Or something handed out in a company wide lottery? Charles could remember Sebastian behind happy at the idea of others biking. It truly coudn’t get more embarrassing, could it? ‘When even was the last time i rode a bike?’, he wondered. Swinging his legs over it and giving it a push to get going provided him a wobbly pace. Taking circles around the parking lot helped becoming steady again, yet no joy could be discovered anywhere. Charles stopped the bike, leaning back and eyes passing over the building. In the distance, a person was approaching. As they got closer, he noticed it was Y/N. She was dressed in a pretty white dress, neckline dipping lower to a golden belt. She must have bought it in Italy, he just coudn’t imagine your average stern german lady wearing something similar. 

As she came to a stop in front of him, her expression showed a rude grin.

“Seems you’re without a drive, Driver”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve already made all the jokes.”

She nodded, as if fully aware of the emotions he was feeling.

“You know, Ferrari were so kind to give me these-”, she said, lifting her hand. Jingling in the air was a set of black car keys with the familiar prancing horse on top. “If you want, I could drive you somewhere. Would be less embarrassing than cycling”

In a really annoying fashion, she pulled the word ‘could’ as long as a chewing gum. Just sheer annoyance.

Charles thought about it. He truly did not want to be victimized by her driving again, but going further distances in climate control and not facing the Italian sun sounded stunning about now. With it soon being afternoon, the heat started becoming unbearable.

“Alright, I give in. What do you get in return though?”

“I want to visit Monaco.”

“Monaco? That’s 5 hours by car. Taking a plane would be faster.”

She just grinned again. “I probably won’t get the chance to drive a Ferrari again, right? So I want to make use of it. And with you by my side-” she poked her pointer finger against his chest. “I bet I will get stuff for free! And since you live there, you know the good spots to go to.”

“You are a cheapass, you know”

“I’m a train attendant, not a cheapass. Monaco is expensive.”

Charles pushed the bike against a wall, leaning it to the side. No one would steal a bike here, right? He wondered, walking alongside her.

“Aren’t you worried about being seen with me? I’m a celebrity, i hope you keep that in mind”

She just shook her head. “Nah, I’m not worried in any way, shape or form. Life would be exciting if gossip would be busy with me.”

“Exiting? It’s getting clear to me that you have no clue of what it’s like!" Charles got angry at her statement. She really knew nothing.

“Obviously, I don’t. But you seem like a nice dude. If people make rumors about us, I want to see them try. There’s nothing in my life they could ruin.”

Charles came to a stop. “Nothing in your life? What do you mean?”

Y/N just looked down. “That house is my parents. Mine now, I guess. Both died of old age a few years ago, had me quite late. My job is nothing I've specifically dreamed of ever. I just took it because I could work alongside my parental-care duties. So currently, I wouldn't mind having stupid fun. I mean, they might write some mean stuff about me. But they can’t get worse than 40 year old, hair dyed red, coworkers”

Shit, maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Pretty personal question, was she hurt?

“Don’t worry too much Charles. I’m fine. You don’t seem to be like that , though.”

She could see it on him, huh? “Yeah, I'm not. My dad…he passed away before he could see me win Monaco. I desperately wanted him too. Same as my best friend and god father…And now? I won the Monaco GP but instead of visiting them, i ended up somewhere in Germany.”

“I bet they’re happy for you, up in whatever flavor of heaven you believe in. If they’re family, they’re definitely watching. We could visit your living relatives though if that would make you feel better.”

He nodded. Great idea. “We could visit my mom and little Brother. They still live in our apartment in Monaco. My big bro already moved out a while ago, i did as well. I think that would feel good.”

“Well what are you waiting for then? Get going.”

“Can i drive?”

“No.”

He made a ‘hmpf’ sound and fake-pouted. “I bet I’d drive better than you!”

Shortly afterwards, they both found themselves seated in the expensive Vehicle. Y/N was busy adjusting the settings to her liking while Charles was fumbling around with the Spotify playlist. Just as he was leaning forward to input something, the driver pressed down the gas pedal. Hard. 

Charles was almost launched forward but the seat belt pulled him back with just his phone flying around . “God, you scared me!” he exclaimed, holding his hands on his beating heart.

Y/N just grinned, showing him her teeth.”I like scaring you, it’s fun”.

Charles just gave her an exasperated expression. “Why do you particularly enjoy scaring me so much?”

“You react so loudly, that’s fun. My colleagues are all old, tired people. Most you’d get is an eyebrow lift.”

That way, the drive continued. Charles and Y/N were vibing to the white girl music he had picked (Sorry Sebastian, no Senorita) while Y/N put in some weird German music. Charles was quite confused when he heard what sounded like children's music.

“What the fuck are we listening to right now?” he asked her.

She was vibing meanwhile, joke dancing while speeding. “True hit song! It slams when you’re drunk! "That's Bodo mit dem Bagger!”

“I’m not drunk Y/N so why are we listening to drunk people's music? Also, I don't speak German. Could you translate?”

“Drunk people's music is always good! You rich folk don’t know what simple pleasures are.” She huffed. “The title is just…Uh..Give me a second.”

Charles leaned his arm on the window, staring outside. “Considering you work with travelers i’d think your English would be better.”

“That’s rude, sir. I’m quite good if compared by my colleagues”

“Seb was faster.”

Y/N just sighed. “Isn’t this also your second language? Don’t be an ass. Also, Vettel had to speak English more often than I do, you knucklehead. I don’t get English speaking passengers that often.”

After a short moment of thinking, she came to her answer. “The title is Bodo with the Excavator. It’s about a guy excavating stuff but excavating is also a pun for hitting on girls. So that’s it. You ruined the fun now that I had to explain it.”

After that discourse, the car became devoid of conversation until Charles and Y/N reached Monaco. While trying to drive safely, Y/N was busy staring outside. Taking in all the sights she could from her driver’s position. Charles meanwhile directed her to the attached parking space, the guard at the front being confused at the sight yet not asking about it. ‘Professionals’, Y/N thought to herself.

As they stood in front of his mom’s apartment, Charles finally realized what he had done. He had invited a girl home. Worse thing being, Y/N was the first girl he ever invited home…Pascale would have a heart attack, wouldn’t she? He quickly took her to the side.

“Y/N” he stated with a soft, quiet voice. “I uh…”

“What, uh? Come on, tell me.”

“You’re the first girl I'm bringing home.”

She was surprised. Definitely didn’t expect that one. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Oh god, how do we tell that to your mom?”

“No use, I know her too well. Whatever we tell her won’t matter.”

“I could just wait outside if you want me to? Not trying to make your life harder here.”

“Nonono!” He exclaimed, widening his eyes.

“That wouldn't be in the spirit of hospitality of me.”

“Well then..”

She turned around, pressing the doorbell.

Charles quickly turned around. “No! AHH; I wasn't prepared!”

“Why are you so nervous, if at all i should be the one t-”

Before she could finish her sentence, the door opened. Pascale looked curious, her face turning joyfull upon seeing her son. She quickly brought him into a tight hug, pressing her chin against his shoulder.

“I-I was so scared when we didn’t hear from you!”

“Mom-”

“and I thought I had lost you! You can’t do that to me!”

“Mom-” his voice sounded more desperate now.

“But I’m so glad to see you healthy Charlie!”

She separated from him, looking her son up and down before her view skipped over to the companion at his side. 

“Who’s this lovely young Lady, if i might ask?”

Charles wanted to fully rectify but he could already see the thoughts in her brain running further ahead than they might ever be able to catch up with. Shit.

“I’m Y/N L/N”, she stated, stretching out her hand to Pascale. “I found Charles dead asleep on my train and later helped him home. Nice to meet you!”

Pascale looked Y/N now up and down. With this serious mom scanner, Charles knew her next face would tell him everything he needed to know about her. His mother was thinking, her brain computer on all cylinders before clicking the print button: smiling face,serious.png. She liked Y/N. Oh no.

“I’m so happy that you found him, Miss. L/N -  what would i have done without you!”

Pascale grabbed Charles by his ear, pulling him close. “Once he got into Formula 1 Monaco became way too small to contain him. Sometimes I wonder when he’ll run off to never be seen again.”

“Just Y/N is enough, I’m Miss L/N at work.” Her whole body shook as if remembering it. “Now i’m happy to see Monaco - seeing you both reunited i find this to be the perfect opportunity to leave so-”

“Nonsense! I can’t let you leave so soon. Seeing Charles' expression I bet you drove. Before going anywhere, you better wait a moment to allow him to he let off steam. Afterwards you two can go out and look at the city!”

‘You two? Oh no, she really thinks we’re a couple, doesn’t she?’ Charles realised. 

His mother was quick to push the two inside, heading off to brew coffee. Shortly after, three pretty mugs and delicacies were placed in front of the two of them. Y/N slowly leaned back, happily enjoying the hot liquid while Pascale kept questioning holes into Charles. She sneakily stole his piece of cake while he kept wildly throwing his arms around in gestures. Is that what interacting with Italians did to a man?

Then, Pascale directed her attention to Y/N. “I’d love to get to know you better but I have to work the whole day and tomorrow as well. If you want to, you could visit my salon tomorrow and we could chat while I do your hair. I bet you want to take the opportunity and see the city today.”

She gave Y/N a hearty smile.

“Are you saying Y/N needs a haircut, Maman?” he asked, sounding jokingly offended.

“No, not at all! I just want to get to know her, Charlie..”

Cute. Pascale really was cute. 

“Also, if you want to, we could dye your hair. As long as that's fine with your work dress code - i bet you would look lovely with some colors!”

‘Such a cute woman. I wouldn't mind her being my mother in law… Wait, no- I don’t want to be in a relationship right now. No-uh.’

‘Maman seems to like her as well - haven’t seen her this happy in a while.. I’ve also been enjoying myself around her.. No, I can't catch feelings here. I gotta focus.’

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