#why do u as a man feel the need to wear a harness. for other men to ogle your boobs?

[acciopietro]

Ok so I just read your “Bad Idea” smut and it was amazing! Can you do one where the roles are reversed? Like y/n has the sex pollen infect her?

combining with request #2: Hey 🧍🏻‍♀️ this is my first time ever requesting smut so- I feel super awkward 😅, I was wondering if you could write Pietro maximoff eating (fem?) reader out on a couch (or gn reader, anything you want :)

a week’s isolation - p.m.

pairing: pietro maximoff x fem! reader

summary: the strange plant thor brought to earth from asgard is housed in the lab on the upmost floor of the compound, it’s pollen safely contained; your room, however, is right below it. too bad they forgot to seal the vents.

word count: 3,878

tw: smut smut smut. oral (f receiving). apologizing in advance. both parties are 18+ and consenting adults!!!!

a/n: takes place in between the age of ultron/civil war era. pietro and wanda are adults but still young! i haven’t written smut in such a long time so forgive me for the long time it took to get this posted. i get embarrassed when writing shit like this so it takes me twice as long since after every word i have to close my computer and take a lap around my room. hope u enjoy :)

“DOES EVERYONE UNDERSTAND?” FINISHED BANNER as he stood before the team, his face flushed and his eyes wide. Pietro had been half-listening for the first portion of the man’s speech, but at the sound of the words “highly dangerous” and “do not go near it”, his interest had been inevitably piqued.

Pietro fiddled with the string bracelet on his wrist, eyes drifting across the long, meeting table. You were sat next to the head of the table, hair daintily curved along the edges of your face, hands folded on the edge of the table, lips pressed together in thought. He blinked before he could get too lost in you; it had happened before and he didn’t feel like getting caught staring again.

A chorus of yes’s and head nods washed over the team, followed by a short moment of awkward silence as they individually considered the strangeness of the situation that was now in their midst. Pietro sent a tired glance to Wanda, who rolled her eyes and mouthed Pay attention!

“I need you all to seriously recognize the dangers this plant might cause,” Banner went on after the group gave their half-assed acknowledgements of their understanding. “Thor brought this here on accident, and it is only he and other Asgardians that are immune to it. We’re only trying to find a proper, safe way of disposing it, maybe even using a way to harness it’s pollen without... well, killing ourselves.”

“Why can’t Thor just bring it back up to Asgard?” Barton asked, scratching his chin. Shifting in his chair, he said, “I feel like that should be discussed.”

“The issue with that, Barton, is that it’s pollen has already begun to cling onto other things. Our plants, here on Earth, need some kind of vector to move their pollen from place to place, like insects or wind. On Asgard, or at least with this plant, it’s very different,” Banner explained. “The pollen acts almost like a virus, one that clings onto surfaces and grows. We don’t know how to kill this virus, so it’s harder to manage than normal pollen.”

Pietro watched you raise your hand; always so quiet, so polite, you were. It was endearing, he thought, watching you always behave so accordingly. The only time he ever saw you lose yourself was in the heat of a fight, when fists would fly and guns were drawn. It was a treat to see you in such a state, a rarity.

“Y/N? You have a question?”

“The pollen isn’t spreading into the compound, is it?” you asked carefully, something in your voice telling Pietro you were nervous. “Should I be worried?”

“No, we’ve done our very best to contain it,” Banner reassured you; Pietro watched your shoulders deflate. “As long as you all stay away from the lab, you’ll be just fine. And anyone who enters the lab will need to wear facial coverings. I’d even go as far as to say we should invest in more hazmat suits.”

“It’s not that extreme, is it?” Steve Rogers asked in disbelief. “I mean, hazmat suits? C’mon, Banner, what’s the big fuss?”

“The big fuss?” Banner gave a dry scoff. “The big fuss, Cap, is that if you’re exposed to the pollen, it’ll make your mind go into such a sex-driven frenzy that you’ll lose touch with goddamn reality! Do you want that? Because I seriously doubt you want that!”

A wave of silence washed over the room. Steve pressed his lips in a thin line, his nose dusted pink, and said nothing in response, only slowly shaking his head.

“We get it,” Natasha Romanoff spoke up after everyone spent a moment of clearing their throats and adjusting their chairs. “Stay away from big, scary plant.”

Bruce opened his mouth to keep going, but Tony Stark placed a hand on his shoulder.

“They get it,” Stark said. “We’ll change the password to the lab, anyways. J.A.R.V.I.S. will make sure no one goes in.”

All the members fizzled off, going their separate ways. Banner, Stark, and Thor ventured up towards the lab, the latter the only one not donned in a white hazmat suit. Wanda scooted her chair closer to yours, nudging your shoulder.

“Interesting, huh?” she commented. “Wonder what they do with them in Asgard.”

“S’probably like a drug,” Pietro chimed in, dragging his chair towards the two girls’ and sitting backwards on it, legs spread, hands dangling on the back of the chair. You crossed your legs, one folded gingerly over the other, the glossy black toe of your Mary Janes brushing his knee. “No doubt they get a shit ton of that pollen stuff and sell it.”

“I thought Asgardians were immune to it?” you said. Pietro paused.

“Well, maybe if they take a lot of it, it’s like that weird stuff you Americans have. Viagra. Helps it stay up, you know,” Pietro joked, to which Wanda whacked him on the shoulder. “What? Just a hypothesis.”

“Don’t be so crude,” Wanda chastised him. You giggled, the apples of your cheeks rose dusted. Pietro’s lips curled up at your reaction; you glanced over at him, matching his smile, before glancing back down at your lap. “Let’s just stay away from the lab for next few weeks or so. Play it safe.”

“I wanna see it,” Pietro ran a hand through the icy blonde tips of his hair. Your eyes widened a bit. “I’m curious now, y’know? I mean, what’s a sex plant supposed to even look like?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Pietro,” you told him carefully, the sound of his name rolling so easily off your tongue that he almost felt goosebumps trail up his forearms. He smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” he finished the quote for you, raising an eyebrow. Your lips twitched, shaking your head a bit and looking away from him. Wanda rolled her eyes, patting you twice on the knee before standing up, strawberry-blonde hair tucked behind her ears.

“I’m going to find Vis,” she announced, the leather of her red jacket swishing against her waist. “I’m tired of this plant talk.”

“Your loss,” Pietro called after her as she walked off. She turned around and stuck her tongue out childishly before lifting a single hand; with a swirl of red light, the door slammed shut behind her. Glancing back at you, Pietro grinned. “You can’t tell me you’re not just the tiniest bit curious.”

“Of course I’m curious,” you told him, leaning forward a bit in excitement as you shifted around; the scoop neck of your black tee sat low on your chest as you moved, and he fought to keep his sights on your eyes. “But, it’s not worth the risk. Not in my opinion, at least.”

“Yeah, well,” Pietro shrugged. “Maybe I’ll grab ahold of one of those hazmat suits and head in there myself. Just to take a look.”

You sent him a look and sighed, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Pietro gave a toothy grin. “Oh, Y/N. When have I ever been stupid?”

---

THE NEXT MORNING, PIETRO WAS bewildered to see you absent from the kitchen. Typically, you’d wake up way before he did, and he’d find you sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea or coffee and a book, silently reading. Vision sometimes would join you, or on certain days when Peter Parker would come round, Pietro would find you chatting away with him at the table. This specific morning, however, you were not there. Vision was sitting on his own, a copy of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden in front of him; a cold cup of coffee was sat in front of the empty chair.

“Buna dimineata,” Vision greeted in Sokovian, not looking up from his book. Pietro rubbed the sleep from his pale eyes and glanced at Y/N’s empty chair. “I presume you are curious as to where Y/N is.”

“Where is she?” Pietro asked, retying the white strings of his plaid blue and silver pajama pants. Vision glanced up at the cold cup of coffee, staring at it until it lifted into the air and carried itself towards the sink, dumping itself out and sitting on the chrome interior of the sink.

“I poured that for her, but she had yet to arrive,” Vision explained. Pietro furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest where the white tank top he wore to sleep was wrinkled up. “I sought for Captain Rogers and he revealed to me that she’s been quarantined to her room.”

“Quarantined?” Pietro repeated, the word sounding uncomfortable on his tongue. He cursed under his breath before tentatively asking, “What for?”

Vision closed Walden and set it down on the table, letting out a simple breath and shifting his eyes to meet Pietro’s.

“It seems that the laboratory and Y/N’s room share an air vent,” he said. Pietro said nothing, not following. Vision stood up, tucking the chair back under the table and holding Walden with one hand. “They sealed off that mysterious plant, however they seem to have forgotten the air vent underneath the desk it’s planted on. That air vent just so happened to empty into Y/N’s room.”

“The pollen,” Pietro pinched the bridge of his nose. “O, la naiba...”

“So it’s just wise, according to Banner, that she is confined to her room,” Vision gave Pietro look, bowing his head forward as though he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. “Which means you must leave her alone until she has recovered.”

Pietro let out a sigh before moving his eyes away from version, clenching his jaw and thinking; maybe there was a way he could get into your room without getting infected by the pollen himself, even if it was just to talk with you. The idea of you being all cooped up there by yourself made his heart clench, but he also couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the effects the pollen was having on you. 

“Pietro,” Vision said, and Pietro met his eyes. “Do not try and see her. We don’t know how much pollen is still in that room.”

Pietro rolled his eyes and left the room, not letting Vision interrupt his brainstorming. Banner had been extreme in his warnings about the effects, but how sexually-frustrated could the damn thing make a person? Besides, you were tough. He was sure it wasn’t too bad.

And it wasn’t. But after a week, he started getting anxious. Your room was entirely off limits, the only people going in out being Banner, to asses the situation, and Steve Rogers, to talk to you. You had always been close with Rogers, however, Pietro wished Banner could lend him one of those masks so he could see you. 

One evening, Pietro couldn’t sleep. The more he laid in bed, pale eyes staring blankly at the white ceiling, the more he thought about you, cooped up in your room and probably in an unimaginable amount of pain. It had been a week and change already, and this isolation was sure to be driving you mad. He swung his legs around so he was now sitting on the edge of his bed, and he paused. 

Maybe this is a bad idea, he thought to himself as his legs carried him towards his door, Like, a really bad idea. He hand was still clasping over the doorknob and twisting, despite that little voice in the back of his head asking if this idea of his could potentially end badly.... or, he could end up helping you out. He couldn’t imagine being isolated for so long.

By the time he reached the outside of your bedroom, he paused, his knuckles hovering over the wood, hesitating to knock. He could hear you from outside, moaning and groaning in pain. His heart ached and he knocked.

The moaning stopped and Pietro gulped. “Hey, dragă...”

“Pietro?” you asked from inside. “You shouldn’t...” you paused, and he heard the sound of your bedsheets rustling. “You shouldn’t be near here...”

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to see you.”

“Banner says it might be contagious,” you replied sadly. He could hear you frown. “I don’t want you to catch it.”

“It’s been over a week,” Pietro rolled his eyes. “I doubt it’s still airborne. Most viruses don’t last in the air for that long.”

“I guess,” you fell silent. More rustling. Pietro sighed and put his hand over the door knob. Taking a deep breath, he twisting and opened it.

You were a sight to see, that’s for sure. Half your body was covered by the white comforter, and the parts of you that weren’t were clad in a small tank top and small pajama shorts. The ceiling fan was on top speed, and there were two other fans propped up in the room, each pointing towards the bed. 

Your face was a bright red, same with your chest, and your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail to keep it out of your face. But your eyes, that had previously been half-lidded, widened considerably when you saw Pietro open the door before you threw the entire blanket over yourself.

“You can’t be in here!” you shrilled. “You’ll catch it!”

You felt a hand grasp onto the blanket, slowly pulling it down and off of you. Pietro, his hair tousled by his hand and his lips curved into a gentle smile, let out a small laugh.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m, like, superhuman. I think I’ll be okay. Let’s go get some water.”

You hesitated, letting him slide the blanket off you. You clenched your jaw, cheeks flushing scarlet as your eyes raked him up and down; he was clad in a thin white tank top that was maybe a size too small, and white-and-blue pajama pants that hung low on his waist. Taking a deep breath, you swung your legs over the bed and got to your feet.

You walked behind him, scared to get too close. Pietro could see your hesitation to the leave the room, as well as your hesitation to touch anything. 

“C’mon, dragă,” Pietro laughed at you. “It’s okay. I feel fine. You’re not going to get me sick.”

“We don’t know that,” you took another heavy breath, keeping your eyes off of him. The flushing of your face made it hard to breathe and the twisting in your lower abdomen was making your head whirl. The muscles of his back flexing every five seconds as he reached up in the cabinets for a cup was not helping. You gulped. “I need to sit down...”

“All right,” Pietro glanced back at you, holding the two cups of ice water. “You okay?”

“None of the medicines work,” you mumbled, hesitantly taking the from him. He sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, staring at you. You felt your neck get hotter and glancing down at your lap. “I just gets worse.”

“What does?” Pietro asked curiously. “What’s the issue? Nauseous? Headache?”

“Erm,” you took a shaky breath and squeezed your legs together. “Hard to explain. The plant, the one from Asgard that did this... it’s... it’s kind of odd...”

Pietro raised a brow. You had a death grip on both your cup and the couch cushion. Face beet red, you took a sip from your trembling hand, avoiding his inquisitive stare.

“How so?” Pietro asked.

“I don’t really know,” you mumbled. “Banner said it’s got these, like... coitus pheromones? I don’t really know what that word means, but he refuses to elaborate.”

It was Pietro’s turn to feel his cheeks grow hot. The word was the same in Sokovian, and he knew it was a fancy term for sex, but he was shocked that you didn’t know. You were supposed to be the smart one.

“Y/N... you don’t remember what it means?” he asked carefully. You shook your head.

“Do you?” you asked, finally meeting his eyes for the first time in a few minutes. Pietro bit the inside of his cheek. No wonder you were gripping the couch like a lifeline. This whole time, he had assumed you were moaning and groaning because of pain. His chest felt hot. “What’s it mean?”

“It means sex, Y/N,” he told you slowly. “If Banner says it’s got “coitus pheromones”, that means it’s like... it really is like alien viagra. Like I had joked about before…”

He saw your eyes grow wide, your chest beginning to rise and fall with greater speed. You averted your eyes away from him in almost an instant, pressing your lips together in a thin line and shrinking back as though to pretend he were not there.

“Great,” you mumbled. Pietro shrugged.

“S’not like you didn’t know what it did,” he said honestly. “You’ve been feeling like this for more than a week, you’ve had to have some idea. Probably driving you up a wall, huh?”

You gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah.”

Pietro stared at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest. “I could help you. If you wanted me to.”

You gave him a very odd look, brows furrowing just a bit. The air felt warmer, as though someone had turned off the A/C. “What?”

“You heard me,” Pietro muttered, and now it was his turn to shrink back, his back hunching. “Only if you want...”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you mumbled. Pietro pursed his lips. 

“You’re not,” Pietro said simply. “I’m asking you if you want me to help you.”

“I...” you bit the inside of your cheek, and he watched you take a deep, steady breath. “Of course I want you to.”

“Well...” Pietro trailed off, staring at you, awaiting your word. His knees were practically touching yours, the head radiating off of him making you grip the couch tighter.

“Well, what?” you asked. His hand left where it had previously rested on his lap and latched onto your knee, sliding upwards at a snail’s pace.

“Can I?” he asked softly. “Help you?”

You glanced down at where his hand rested on your thigh. Back up at his eyes. Jesus christ.

“Yes.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his lips twitch upwards, a half-smirk half-smile fighting to curl onto his face. You didn’t bother dwelling on it, though, considering you were too focused on the fact that his other hand was on your other thigh, his hands sliding up and down your leg leisurely before coming back down onto your knees.

He pushed your knees apart, his calloused fingers digging into your bare skin, pale blue eyes never leaving yours. You took another shaky breath, swallowing anxiously. He lowered himself off of the coffee table he had been sitting on, kneeling in between your knees. His fingers crawled up to the fabric of your pajama shorts, tugging on the hem.

“Y’know these gotta go, right?” he asked rhetorically. 

“Mmhm,” you gulped and did nothing for a second, but as he continued to tug on them, you took the top elastic and pulled it down until it reached his hands. He did the rest of the work, discarding them beside where he knelt.

Your underwear was a light blue, which just so happened to be Pietro’s favorite color (this was a coincidence, you swear). He hummed in approval and spread your knees apart wider. His eyes darted down, spotting the darkened patch of fabric right over her sex. He gave a smirk and snapped his eyes back up to yours again.

Saying nothing, he brought his hand closer to you, running his index finger up and down the darkened fabric. You shuddered. He was barely putting pressure on you, but it seemed the pollen was making even the slightest touch feel a million times more intense than it was.

“These also have to go. As much as I like ‘em,” he said, tugging on the azure fabric of your panties. You felt yourself smile a bit. 

“Okay,” you rolled your eyes, but grabbed the hem and pulled down down. Pietro grabbed them off of your ankles, and lifted them up in front of his eyes.

“Can I keep these?” he asked. You kicked him with your foot.

“Creep,” you said. He chuckled and put them on top fo your discarded pajama shorts. “Can you please just...”

“Just do what?”

You huffed and mumbled something unintelligible. He pressed his thumb to your clit rather harshly, moving in small, quick circles.

“What was that?” He asked as you gasped, hands grappling at the edge of the sofa. “What do you want?”

“Everything,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering. Pietro hummed.

“Well, I don’t have time to give you everything, but I can give you a... what do you call it? A taste?"

And then, before she could say anything more, he dove forward and pressed a kiss to your clit, eliciting another gasp from you. He skillfully traced his tongue up and down the length of your slit before returning to your clit, where he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You slithered a hand down to tangle in his hair, grasping at the white-blonde locks.

“Christ, Piet,” you breathed. You felt him smile before he lifted his mouth up for a second, licking his lips. Locking eyes with you, he brought himself back down to trace circles around your entrance with his tongue. Without a second to waste, he brought his hand up and plunged his index finger inside, pulling it out to only shove it back in over and over again.

Your head fell back onto the cushion of the couch, back arching, one hand grappling at the back of its foundations while the other grasped onto Pietro’s hair. Pietro’s eyes flickered back and forth between your half-lidded eyes and the finger that was moving in and out of you, and with a rush of adrenaline, he shoved his middle finger inside, too.

Curling his fingers, he brought his mouth to your clit. “Close, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” was all you could find words for, the combination between his fingers and his mouth making your vision go blurry and your mind go blank. “Uh-huh.”

“C’mon, dragă,” he coaxed, his words slightly muffled by his lips being pressed to your clit. “Give it to me.”

Back arching, the coil inside of your lower abdomen finally began to unravel at high speed, body spasming over his long fingers as pretty moans slipped from between your lips. Pietro was grinning as he sucked at your cunt, feeling your velvet walls tighten around his fingers as you orgasmed.

When the noises from you ceased, and your breathing began to slow, he pulled his fingers out and sat upright. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and just as they locked, he put his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. You shivered.

“Feel better?” he asked casually. You paused.

“Yeah,” you said in shock. “I actually do.”

“Told you,” he smirked. You smiled at him.

“Thanks.”

“Of course,” he replied, getting off his knees and sitting beside you, handing you your underwear and shorts. “Would’ve done it even without the pollen, y’know.”

“Yeah?” you raised an eyebrow. He gave a firm nod. “I’ll have to take you up on that, then.”

--

translation:

“Buna dimineata.” - Good morning

“O, la naiba.” - Oh, damn it.

“Dragă.” - Darling, Sweetheart, Love

taglist:

@childishnewt @mcximffs @minbeatriz16 @slvtforfictionalcharacters @kaqua @thorrealgf @pagesbetweensheets @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @niallhoransupremacy @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777

a/n: this is painfully unedited im sorry. 

[slashingdisneypasta]

Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

//

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

~

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?

[neon-junkie]

Okay, headcanons. Uhhh well I personally was a big fan of the Obedience Training fic, got any headcanons for how other members of the gang would need to be taught obedience?

yaaaa I’m glad to hear that u enjoyed it!!! Okay, heres a few headcanons for Arthur, John, Javier, Trelawny, Bill, Charles, Dutch, and Kieran!!! They’re overall quite good with obedience and submission, but some of them are a bit hard to properly break.  These are gender-neutral :0) everything is under the cut as it’s very NSFW.

Arthur

Arthur is always a very good boy, does what he's told without question, and knows that you'll stick to his limits.

Feeds off praise, you need to praise him over and over to remind him that he's doing a good job and that he's your good boy.

He's happy to wear anything you want him to wear; harnesses, collars, outfits, etc. As long as you don't put him in a bunny suit then he's fine with it.

He's personally quite a fan of the harnesses, he thinks they really suit him - big rough hairy mountain man with a pretty leather harness on. Yeah, he'll gaze at himself in the mirror whenever he puts one on.

Talk to him kindly, even if he messes up. Politely point out what he's done wrong whilst cooing him and ask him to try again. Be like "good try, Arthur. But let's try it once more for me, hm?"

Says yes sir/madam/owner/etc a lot. He never forgets his manners. Ever.

Overall, a very good boy!!!!!

John

Lazy. Stubborn. A bit of a brat.

"Why do you want me to do that?" you'll hear him questioning your methods a LOT.

Doesn't mind the occasional slap whenever he's acting out of line. He thinks it's kinda kinky.

You basically need to break John in, and once he's broken, he'll do as you ask. He may still question things every now and again, but he'll eventually do as he's told once he's well worn in.

Likes praise here and there but you don't need to over-use it with him (like you do with Arthur.) John KNOWS he's a good boy, he likes to hear it, but if you say it too much he'll just be like "ugh, I know!"

Doesn't mind some outfits. Collars are 50/50, sometimes he'll wear them, sometimes he won't. Won't ever put a harness on cause he thinks it looks silly.

You'll need to keep reminding him to say yes sir/madam/owner/etc because he'll forget A LOT.

Overall, a bit annoying to tame but once you've finally broken him, he'll be good. Kinda like a wild horse, I guess.

Javier

Brat.

"You want me to do that, huh? And what happens if I don't? hehehehe."

Like John, he needs breaking in, but he's definitely the hardest to break in by a mile. You're gonna be working on his obedience for... so long... you may just give up lol.

He's happy to wear anything you want and will take pride in some outfits. He personally thinks collars suit him best, but if you try and put a leash on the end he'll run off.

Javier is quite independent so he doesn't always like the idea that he needs you to survive. You two are gonna spend a while finding a middle ground, lots of trial and error with him, but he's always happy to just laugh things off.

He doesn't need too much praise, but he does enjoy compliments. Tell him how handsome he looks, especially in specific outfits and such.

The main thing that'll break him is ordering him not to cum, especially if you're giving him a handjob/BJ. You will have to blackmail him, something like "You can't speak to me for a week if you cum." He'll pout about it, but he eventually becomes a subby mess who bats his lashes at you whilst asking if he's allowed to cum yet.

Overall, if you have the patience to train him, then he'll eventually be worth it.

Trelawny

Lovely. An angel. Such a good boy.

He takes a while to get into the mindset. He'll continue to joke/giggle a lot with you, but once he slips into the zone, he'll stay in it for hours.

LOVES dressing up. LOVES roleplaying. Doesn't mind collars, and harnesses just aren't for him.

Bring out some silk rope to tie him up with and that's it, total submission from that fancy man.

He doesn't need to be told that he's a good boy too often; he prefers compliments instead, like how good he looks in that outfit, or how pretty he looks when his cheeks are bright red.

As long as you stick to his limits, he'll do as you ask. He just takes a little while to get into the mindset.

Doesn't mind getting roughed up a little bit but please do not slap him :(

Overall, super good boy but is probably better suited for somebody a bit giggly and less-serious.

Bill

He will do ANYTHING. NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

You could be like "you're gonna go down on me for 10 hours." and he'll just say "yes sir/madam/owner/etc," and get to it. Like, Bill is the biggest sub you will ever meet.

No backlash, no questions, no pouting or complaining. Just pure obedience.

He's very touch starved so that's probably why he's so happy to do anything you ask.

PRAISE HIM. Please tell him what a good boy he is, how good he's being for you, how proud he's making you, etc. There's never too much praise for Bill, he feeds off that stuff.

Will put on anything you give him, but thinks harnesses really suit him. They make him look/feel big and somewhat superior, and knowing his s/o has so much power over a man his size makes his cock throb.

Overall, super subby but you need to praise him every 3 seconds.

Charles

He's very relaxed with whatever you wanna do, just make sure you stick to his limits as he has quite a few when it comes to kinkier stuff.

Loves praise but more directed at specifically what he's doing, such as "you're doing so well down there," though he won't mind if you call him a good boy!!

He'll wear whatever you ask him to, but he may pull a few faces whenever he puts on something that he isn't too keen on. He'll be like "hmm idk why you want me in this, but whatever you say."

Charles will submit to you without question, but it may take a while to fully break him. He'll do whatever you ask, but to really grind him down to total submission is going to take a while.

You kinda need to make him dependant on you, maybe order him not to cum until you say so a few times and he'll eventually break.

Overall, very good but will need a lil bit of breaking in.

Dutch

Kinda bratty at first, but once you show him you mean business, he'll eventually get into it and submit to you.

He doesn't backchat, but he does talk back? Like, instead of just saying "yes sir/madam/owners/etc," he'll say yes and be like "of course I'll do that for you. I'd do anything you ask, my dear."

He just likes the sound of his own voice, and if that bothers you then gag him. If he still won't shut up then slap him. He'll be shocked, but he's also fine with it.

He'll break pretty easily if you do orgasm denial with him, but do it really brutally. Say, tie him up and go down on him for a while, but really make a show out of it. Keep it going for aaaaaages, and eventually, he'll just become this massive whimpering mess.

Oh my god, he LOVES the sight of himself in a collar or harness. Dressing up is fine, but you'll sometimes walk into your tent to find him already wearing the harness and waiting for you.

Loves praise of every kind. It's more of a reassurance thing for him, like he KNOWS he's doing a good job, he just likes to hear it.

Overall, needs a bit of breaking in. Very chatty but will do anything you ask without question.

Kieran

A good boy but a LOUD one. I hope you've got a hotel room booked for him, you're not gonna get away with any of this in camp.

Even if you gag him, he'll still be loud... There's no shutting that boy up.

Loves praise but don't over-do it, it'll eventually feel belittling to him if you spam him with it. Just give him the odd compliment here 'n' there.

He won't be bratty or refuse any orders, but he may make the odd comment about it (until he's broken in,) such as "you want me to do that? well, okay then..."

Doesn't like harnesses, collars are meh, doesn't mind dressing up. But hey, if you ask him nicely, he'll wear whatever you want.

If you try and do orgasm denial with him, it'll end up messy. He just can't quite get the hang of it. You'll get used to hearing "whoops, sorry... I just... you know."

He'll submit to you straight away but he will take a while to break, like, almost as long as Javier. He just can't quite get into the mindset.

Overall, obedient but very loud/talkative, and takes a long time to properly break him into the submission mindset.

[stillebesat]

Beneath the Moon -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 18  Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman Blurb: After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. Fic Type: Werewolf!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Bite Wound -Semi-Detailed, Dog Attack Mention, Injuries, War Talk, Fighting Talk, Death/Dying Talk Taglist in Reblog.  

“A werewolf.” 

Logan swallowed, fiddling with the loosely wrapped bandage on his hand as he kept his eyes firmly on Roman’s ankles. “I told you.” He said. “It isn’t logical.” 

“Hence why you came to me because I’m…what was that phrase you used the last time we…talked?” 

Logan ran his uninjured hand through his hair as he ducked his head. Why had he ever thought, after how they’d left things off, that Roman would actually help him? The unhealing bite wound had to be infected and addling his brains despite the numerous doctors visits and medications he’d been on this past month that would prove otherwise. 

“I believe I called you a ‘pompous prick of a prince stuck in a permanent delusional daydream.’” He whispered.

Roman snorted, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward like a hawk about to snatch up his prey. “Trust the Brain to remember such a phrase after what? Fifteen years, Lo.” 

This was a mistake. Logan made a noncommittal sound as he hunched his shoulders. But he’d seen Roman and just---reacted, instinctively trusting that he would be able to help. 

After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. “It’s what I’m good at.” He said, closing his eyes, again fidgeting with the bandage. “Remembering things.” 

He’d been teased constantly for his memory all throughout school. Been called Sherlock or Brain so often that half their graduating class didn’t know his actual name. 

Which made the fact that he couldn’t remember the fever filled two days after he’d received this...this bite...from that black dog--wolf?...more concerning.  

And after a month’s long session of ‘research’ into his wound, his further symptoms, and the circumstances around his bite and the dog--wolf that had bitten him…had led him to the only explanation that fit the entire experience. 

He’d been bitten by a werewolf. 

And if...IF this was true, his research pointed to the strong possibility that in under an hour, when the full moon rose, Logan would forcibly be changed from man to wolf. 

He didn’t want to believe it. 

But all the signs pointed to it. His sudden allergy to silver. Cats no longer liking him. An increase in appetite, especially for red meat--which Logan had historically disliked the taste of. His eyesight inexplicably improving to the point where he no longer needed to wear his glasses. His sense of smell and hearing randomly becoming overwhelming to the point he could barely function only to return to normal a split second later. And most importantly, the fact that the bite wound on his hand would not heal, which a very dusty book from the library had stated would not vanish until after the first full moon after the bite occurred---all pointed to him being a werewolf.

 But it wasn’t like Logan could just tell anyone about this theory of his. About what he thought could happen tonight.

After all, werewolves shouldn’t exist. 

To confide to anyone that he thought that they did and that he could become one tonight because he’d been bitten by a dog that looked like a wolf--

“And you thought...that I was still this...delusional Prince?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow, his amber eyes glittering. “Willing to go along with any make-believe or fantasy adventure that comes my way at the drop of a hat?” 

Logan could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and hated himself for it. Of course it was crazy to expect that Roman of all people would believe him. 

In retrospect he probably was the worst choice Logan could have made when choosing to confide in someone. After all, they had been, for all intents and purposes, enemies for the past fifteen years. 

Yet Logan had momentarily forgotten that little fact. Had only remembered his childhood friend who had lived and breathed adventure growing up and would probably be the one most likely to believe him when he saw him pull into his driveway. 

A Child’s fantasy was a lot different from an Adult’s though.

And Roman...Roman had gone from wanting to be an Actor in high school to choosing to serve three tours overseas in the War and coming back a decorated hero. Someone who had seen the darker side of being a modern day knight in shining armor and yet had chosen to embrace that reality anyways. 

Even sitting, Roman commanded the room. He was all confidence, a lion lounging on his throne, claws only sheathed because there was no need to use them...yet. 

And if things went…badly. It was all too likely that he would use those warrior skills and shoot Logan the moment he...he changed. After all, Roman was now trained to see threats and take care of them.

Werewolves were historically, in their lore, always a threat. A danger to society.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, conscious of how his heart rate had picked up. 

Mistake. Mistake! MISTAKE!

He had under an hour to get to a place where he could potentially shift in safety. Where he could test his theory of what he was and how he would change without endangering himself or any people who might be around and here he was talking to his high school enemy like he expected Roman to take him in like a lost injured puppy.

Logan pushed to his feet, bringing his bandaged hand to his chest protectively. “My apologies, Roman.” He said, unable to look up from the ground to properly face him. Roman probably was staring at him like he was a crazed loon after his sudden appearance on his doorstep and the ludicrous story he’d just told. “I shouldn’t have intruded in such a manner.” He turned for the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

He’d been so desperate to find someone, anyone to humor him. Someone he could trust. To help him test out his theory. To make sure that IF he changed. If something went wrong. That--that if he--he became a crazed bloodthirsty beast, there would be someone there to take care of it--keep him safe from hurting others. 

Or…if nothing happened. Which Logan desperately wanted to believe. That nothing would happen. That the moon would rise and he would just be standing there, perfectly fine and definitely embarrassed to have indulged in such a fancy...that someone would keep his momentary lapse in judgement quiet--

He highly doubted that Roman would keep this particular visit quiet. What sane person would? Logan probably looked like a crazed lunatic, showing up out of the blue in an old NASA t-shirt and worn jeans, spouting off theories on how he could be a new-made werewolf going to change for the first time tonight--Roman should have called the police as soon as he opened his mouth.

Logan would have, had their positions been switched. 

He tensed, breath hitching as Roman caught his wrist in an iron grip before he’d taken three steps, conscious of the fact that his childhood friend probably now knew twelve different ways to incapacitate him before he could blink.  

“You didn’t show me the bite wound.” Roman said, voice soft. “How can you tell me such a fantastical story and expect me to believe you if you don’t show me your key piece of proof?” 

Logan bit his bottom lip, daring to glance at his childhood friend, gauging how serious he was about seeing the injury. 

“Well?” Roman held out his hand, palm up towards Logan. “It’s not like I haven’t seen my fair share of battle wounds, Lo. I doubt your little bite will compare.”

That was true. Roman had seen battle. War. People dead and dying.

Logan steeled himself, he’d been careful about who touched his injured hand, not sure what the wound would do should it come in contact with another. “It’s not a little bite.” He said, reluctantly holding it out to him.  

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Logan looked away as Roman unraveled the bandage. His feet shifted in place as he glanced at the clock on the mantle, watching the second hand tick its way closer to the full moon’s rising. 

It was odd...Roman had never needed proof before. He’d been the sort to take people at their word and go harring off at the slightest hint of an adventure.

Obviously he had changed far more after high school than Logan had anticipated. It was--

Roman whistled as the last of the bandages fell to the ground. “This...happened a month ago?” He asked, turning Logan’s hand over studying the bite that formed a large crescent shape from his middle finger down to his wrist. 

“Twenty-eight days.” He corrected, wincing as Roman gently poked the wound. He’d been attacked on the last night of last month’s full moon cycle. 

“It looks--”

“Fresh?” Besides the visible lack of blood coming from the wound, it looked like it could have happened only minutes ago.

“Horrible.” Roman frowned. “I’ve seen men take sharpenal to their hands and this--just a bit more pressure and you could have lost your thumb and two fingers--”

Logan winced, his stomach twisting. “I know--I didn’t.” It had been a close thing though. He could have lost half his hand if the wolf had dug its teeth just half an inch deeper into his flesh and pulled, it was a miracle he could still use his fingers at all. Another inconsistency really, with normal dog bites. His hand still worked perfectly despite the large wound maring half of the surface that should have destroyed his tendons and muscles.

“And you’ve tried--”

“Everything short of surgery.” And with his hand able to function normally, no Doctor was willing to try that just yet, not after a single month. “Nothing heals it.” 

Roman hummed. “An unhealing wound.” He mumbled, looking up. He frowned, raising a hand to Logan’s chin, turning his head this way and that as he peered into his eyes. “Did you always have a golden tint to your irises?” He asked, trailing his fingers down to press gently against the side of Logan’s throat, where the pulse of his heart frantically pounded against Roman’s warm fingers.

Logan swallowed, feeling the color draining from his face. Golden tint? “No.” He whispered. “They’ve always been green. You know that.” 

Roman clicked his tongue, abruptly pulling away from him and crossing his arms. “Okay. Say, hypothetically, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Logan blinked at the sudden change in tone. “You don’t?” He asked, not quite believing he was hearing this as pulling his hand back to his chest. It would be pointless to try and rebandage it with the moon so close to rising.

“Hypothetically.” Roman stressed, giving him a tight smile. “If you are going to turn into this--” He waved a hand around. “Werewolf creature. What exactly did you want my help for? Cus I highly doubt you’re thinking something stupid like true love’s kiss will work in this particular scenario of yours that you’ve set up.”

To Be Continued.  Part 2

[melmac78]

Of leather tooling and love

(Tag mini bang 2021)

Here’s my story for @tagminibang. I want to thank @tracybirds for their amazing art and working with me. Also, I thank them being extremely patient with learning about leather tooling and for adapting to the time zone difference to get this put together.

(I added my own art piece - “John’s” astronomy cuff… mark I, and will link directly to tracybirds’s art when I can fully figure this out).

•••••••

John Tracy was mad... so mad he was making an indelible mark that would take forever for someone to wipe away or cover up.

Fortunately it was leather, and he was tooling a design so no one would really want to cover it up, but he still was at points surprised he wasn't punching holes in the design… or the table.

A chirp however made him question the latter.

“John, please do not hit the table so hard. You are making my processors overload,” gently scolded EOS as the man was swinging the rawhide mallet.

While fortunately her interruption didn’t make him miss, allowing him to add to the octopus design, John set the leather tools down and sighed. “I’m sorry EOS,” he said gently.

“I accept your apology, but I do not understand why stamping cowhide will help your anger,” said the AI.

“As I said, it’s leather tooling, and it’s better to use my anger for something creative,” John said quietly.

“Even this … item?”

He looked at the cuff he was working on again and gave a half smile. “Even this wallet,” the astronaut chuckled.

After giving EOS a task to do, reminding her not to adjust the gravity back to zero to avoid any spills from his work, John looked at the project again.

He sighed, understanding his curious “data child’s” curiosity. Leather tooling, while a bit outdated in some people's eyes, was one of the few learned talents and gifts he still had from his Grandfather as well as his Dad.

And - it reminded him of Gordon, in good and bad times.

Gordon… his brother with the wacky sense of dress.

The aquanaut preferred to wear on average two leather bands and then a woven smaller band with the first two oyster pearls he found.

That's why he stopped - at the moment, it felt as though if he took out more anger on the mallet and metal stamping tool, he was hurting Gordon. Triple if he managed to hit it so hard it tore through the damp leather.

Who knew Gordon’s penchant for being the only one to wear leather wrist bands would save his life?

A week and a half prior... he chose to wear two broader bands on one arm and his usual one on his other.

They were nearly the width of a cuff, with designs that took forever to explain to EOS. It was an unusual decision, but one that the brothers were thankful Gordon made.

They had been called out to a rescue - a skyscraper fire in Houston, and all land based brothers had been called as it required high rise rescue.

Gordon had been on level 70 of the building, rescuing an unconscious woman. He had secured the victim in with his harness and started to use the pulley to get them to the top of the building for Thunderbird to lift them to safety.

An explosion had knocked them for a loop, smashing Gordon into the building.

Gordon took the brunt of the hit, slamming into the frame.

In spite of the helmet, he too was knocked out. Worse, the grapple slipped, and glass shards, still stuck in their mounts, sliced down his forearms.

It cut the neoprene... and through part of his thick leather cuffs.

When they recovered both victims, Virgil and John immediately triaged the two. She had a minor concussion and smoke inhalation.

Gordon however not only too had the bump on the head - thanks to the helmet taking the brunt, he also a dislocated shoulder, and a few cracked and broken ribs.

But what was the immediate concern at the time of the rescue was his arms, particularly the wrists. They took the brunt of the damage.

The leather bands however, saved his life. They made what would've been life threatening - if not fatal, slashes on his wrist to mostly superficial cuts.

The bands though were completely destroyed as far as wearability. Virgil would have to apologize for cutting them completely off - but not why - later.

Gordon was taken to a hospital in Houston's esteemed Medical Center, where he went through multiple surgeries, a few pints of blood, and lots of rest.

That was a week ago, as Gordon had a healing rib rebreak, nicking his lung. It was repaired, the bleeder stopped, but Gordon had to be put under sedation for a couple of days to ensure the site healed.

Though they had lifted the sedation the day prior and were waiting for Gordon to come out of it, the family would have to wait couple of days before he could return to Tracy Island.

That lead to where he was today.

John sighed, and looked around Thunderbird Five.

He had been practicing some leather tooling at University of Houston's art department.

That was before a space rescue needed both him and Alan, and afterword, he stayed on Five to keep apprised of a possible hurricane.

Well that and have an excuse to decline another lecture invite from NASA.

John was thankful that U of H understood his need for privacy, and that having a PhD in Aeronautics and Space allowed him some special favors.

The positive it included the use of one of the art studios to leather tool...

The negative? The trade off was as long as he also donated one of his famous astronomy tooled leather cuffs for a fundraiser.

He had already finished the band for the auction two days prior, complete with the antique leather dye, golden paint accents in the star constellations, and steampunk like swing hinge cuff. Not the easiest to make, especially setting the rivets for the cuff.

Worth it to John - small price to pay, but would reap rewards for U of H’s generosity. He’d bring it to them when he visited Gordon again.

The astronaut then looked at the octopus carved and stamped on the wallet. "It was too damn close," he said out loud, but at the same time, he was thankful. This was for Gordon later on.

John then smiled at the thought. It was indeed for his aquanaut brother, one they could’ve lost in that fire.

He was about to stamp the leather again... when a beep startled him.

The astronaut asked EOS to answer it, and the image of Virgil came out of the monitor.

"Gordon's come to," said Virgil.

"Fully?"

The older brother shrugged. "Mostly, but he should be fully alert by the time you get to the hospital," he said, then frowned. "He's asking about the leather bands... especially the one that was 'Mom's belt'."

John furrowed his brow.

Yes, that belt bracelet.

Fortunately the one bracelet Gordon hadn't worn that day.

Unfortunately, the one Gordon duplicated - with varying degrees of success, he did wear nearly daily.

John could imagine Gordon’s initial reaction… he’d feel the same way.

"Virgil, Gordon didn't wear that cuff that day," he said. "He intentionally put a small Thunderbird stamp on his so he didn't confuse the two."

Virgil nodded. "I know, but you know him and anesthetics... gives him the wrong memory if he's not goofy from it," he said, then chuckled. “Last time he was trying to feed Parker poster pancakes on the USS Lexington.”

John scoffed at the memory. "That one still has Parker perplexed," he said, then stood, stretching. "Try to talk him down from his confusion. I'll be there in a few minutes. I need to get something."

Virgil noticed John’s labors on the table and quirked an eyebrow. "What about the wallet you're working on?"

"It'll be fine. The leather can be dampened again to finish it up. I expected it to be a longer project over the bracelets I made at U of H,” he said, putting the stamping tool and mallet down.

The artist noticed John’s attempt to deflect, and his eyes twinkled in mischief. "So… how many projects did the University ‘con’ you out of for the auction this time?" said the artist with a teasing smirk.

He wasn't going to give his younger brother too much grief - he still owed the University at least one hand blown glass vase.

"Just the one - the astronomy cuff."

Virgil gave a soft whistle. "That one? You won't even make that one for me."

"Then bid on the one they're selling," snarked John as he cleaned up the rest of the leather tooling supplies.

Virgil merely laughed - yeah, he was going to bid if anything to help a department who helped his brother cope through this.

John then picked up a box wrapped in sea turtle wrapping paper. "I'll be there shortly,” he said walking to the space elevator.

“FAB.”

********

Gordon Tracy looked out the windows of his hospital room from his hovering hospital bed and signed.

He was thankful he wasn't stuck with a view of the generators. The hospital still hadn't gotten over teasing him - gently - about calling them "Donald Duck" in a post-anesthesia comment the other time he was there for an injury.

Here, it was a view of one of the garden parks the area had.

What he wasn't thankful for was the fact he lost the leather band that was made from his mother's belt.

He looked at the long bandages wrapped on his wrists and lower arms and sighed.

Sure, Virgil kept insisting it was not the band, but he knew his bracelets.

Yes, he had to admit they had to be fully cut off too keep him from bleeding out through his wrists - he knew one cut was still too close.

Still though... he had to concede if it was gone, it was his mother protecting him.

Even Scott had told him point blank it was the only time he was thankful Gordon had forgotten to take the bands off.

Rumor had it Scott was even considering consulting with Brains to create leather arm bracers.

His theory was if it worked for the cowboys in the 1800s and 1900s, why not the technological cowboys of today?

Gordon looked at the sky and smiled. "Thanks Mom for watching over both that woman and me," he said, then looked at the bands.

There were blood stains on them, which were not going to come out.

Sure, they could be dyed dark before being stored, most likely black, and he could have John help him there. That said, it was not going to matter when they had been made unwearable when Virgil cut them off.

There were the button and hole fixtures sure... but the aquanaut understood Virgil was going to slice first, apologize for saving Gordon's life later.

Blood loss didn’t wait for bracelets.

A knock at the door shook him out of his thoughts. "Come in," he said, adjusting the bed to where it floated back to connect with the main vitals scanner.

John entered and smiled at seeing his alert brother, the first time he'd been fully awake since before the accident.

"Hi Gordon, how are you feeling," he said, wincing slightly at the cliche.

His fish loving brother just smiled, but the astronaut didn't miss the sadness in the cinnamon colored eyes. "I'm having a whale of a time... too bad the lake below probably only has ducks," he said, chuckling slightly.

“Must be going ‘quackers’ then,” joked John, only to watch as Gordon fiddled with the remains of the bracelets. John coughed. "Gordon..."

"I know. They had to be cut off in order to save my life," the aquanaut said, sighing. "It's just... this was mom's - look at the paisley here..."

John put his hand over both his younger brother's and smiled. "It isn't the one made with Mom's belt, trust me,” he said, smiling, then pointing to a detail. "See? Here's the thunderbird stamp you used for yours."

Gordon took a closer look, and his eyes widened slightly.

John was right... it was indeed there, just had been cut in half by the cutting tools. Well he hoped so and not the glass, but that was a story left unsaid at the time.

"It's not mom's," the aquanaut whispered instead, tears of happiness flooding his eyes.

The astronaut smiled and gave his brother a gentle hug. "No it isn't. I made sure the one with Mom's was in the fire safe - just in case, on the Island before Alan brought me to the hospital," he said gently.

The two hugged gently for a while, the mix of hospital bluster and soothing sounds from the Muzak in the hallways mingling between the brother's hushed tones.

After a few minutes, Gordon sat up, and noticed the sea turtle box his brother was holding. "Funny looking NASA paper," the aquanaut teased, chuckling softly when John rolled his eyes.

He knew John tried to avoid the facility if possible.

Not because he didn't enjoy it, but because the last time he visited the center, Mission Control crowded him the point he fainted from the social claustrophobia.

Alan found it amusing.

EOS found it amusing to force Alan to eat freeze dried brussel sprouts and liver with onions meals every day his last rotation on Thunderbird Five for his "rude behavior."

Both men chuckled in the memory, and John handed his brother the box. "Nope, this is for you, a get well soon present," said he said.

Gordon carefully opened up the box, which John had purposely wrapped the two parts separately due to the shoulder being strapped, and gasped.

Inside were two bracelets.

One was similar to his mother's belt, but the paisley and flower design that was in his mom's band was adjusted slightly to include southwestern printed sea turtles and a squid stamp John had custom made. Like his mother's, it was dyed a medium brown.

The other... took Gordon's breath away.

The edges were done in a simple border - scalloped with the occasional octopus and sea turtle stamp in between the scallops. It was dyed mahogany.

It was mostly just border stamped... because the concho fastened in the center was the showstopper.

It was a golden sea turtle, swimming in the middle of a pewter center. “How?…”

Seeing Gordon's eyes water, John chuckled. "Yes, I remembered that concho. Had trouble finding it, but fortunately the store on the Sam Houston Tollway found one and put it aside for me," he said as he put a hand on his brother's uninjured shoulder.

Gordon put the box down and wiped away the tears with his good hand. "Got a bit of hand sanitizer in my eyes. Strong stuff," he said, and John scoffed.

"Yeah, sure... you want me to help put it on your … good wrist?" John said, and coughed when Gordon shot the arm out. "Whew... you weren't kidding on the hand sanitizer,” he laughed, waving the fumes away.

"Yeah... apparently it's 'essense of moonshine' I think. It probably kills germs 10 years before they’re born," Gordon smirked.

The bands fit perfectly, and had a simple button and hole fastener so the doctors or even Gordon could take it off with a push if needed.

John watched his brother admire the bracelet, even taking a few photos of the laughs and chuckles his brother made as he showed it off.

Gordon then paused and looked at John. "You made these right?" he inquired, looking at the antiqued looking band.

The astronaut nodded, and Gordon continued, grinning slightly in memory. "How many bands did the University get you to make in exchange for the use of the studio this time?"

"One - and before you ask, the astronomy one,” John said, touching a button on his baldric to ensure EOS didn’t talk about the wallet. She still had a proclivity to ruin surprises - especially if it was one of John’s younger siblings.

Gordon, knowing how much money usually got raised to but one of these bands, looked at the bands and then John. "Worth every cent," he said, smiling warmly as the nurse came in to check Gordon's vitals and bring dinner.

John took this as a note to head out, but before he left, he looked at his brother, who was bragging about the bracelet his older brother made.

And making it very clear how to take it on and off so this one was not cut off.

The astronaut gave a gentle wave to his brother. "I'll be back later," he said, and headed out.

Hearing the chuckles Gordon made again, John's smile broadened. "Yes, it was worth every single minute and cent to hear that laughter," John murmured, but it was priceless to have his brother saved by those other bands.

Now... how he was going to steal the remnants of the old bands to repurpose into a hippie cuff for Gordon was another story

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

animaniacs - s4e8: mindy in wonderland

episode summary: a lighthearted episode about mindy chasing a rabbit down a hole in the tree she’s always tied to, and ending up in a magical, literary dreamland. there’s no mice, but it’s fun, and takes up the whole runtime, and-- what? no, i-- look, it’s just-- i don’t--

sir, you don’t pay me at all--

alright fine ugh ughghghguhgughgu ugh.

great.

episode summary: the hip hippos are expecting a baby! unfortunately, ordering babies off the internet instead of concieving them through, like, hippo sex? appears to have its’ downsides, and instead they are presented with.... brain.

look, i don’t know either, okay? i’m dragging my hands down my face as we speak.

the rundown:

we open with the stork.

“i got a very special delivery! the rockefellers have been waiting weeks for this one.” he pronounces it “spatial”, probably because he’s high out of his mind. this is not a sober bird. please don’t drop that baby, my dude. that’s going to cause more problems than it solves, really.

spoke too soon, i guess.

unfortunately for him, our dude does exactly that, and ends up taking a bit of a tumble. gets all dizzy. this does not bode well for the plot. or the wellbeing of the baby, actually!

hold up. computer, zoom, enhance.

hmmm. that is a very familiar tiny face. troubling. anyway our resident avian expert on drugs seems to have survived his accident, and drops the baby off to the rockefellers with no further trouble.

they seem to look more. hippo shaped than usual.

“congratulations! you’re new parents!”

you’re welcome, weird stoner bird. they slam the door on him, wordlessly exacerbating his injuries. they care not for his plight, only that of their dearest, darling... not very.... hippo sized...................... baby.

hm.

“oh flavio! darling! a baby of our own, just look at him! let us call him--”

“--alfredo!”

“goo.”

alright. as existentially horrifying as this episode is, i laughed. maurice lemarche, completely dead in the face, sits in the recording booth, stretches his shoulders. “goo.” he says. deadpan. no intonation whatsoever. the audience cheers and he is given a thousand dollars.

i don’t know what it is about brain saying basically anything that appeals to my sense of humour so much. jockey for position basically did me in. i just. every time he says “goo.” i am in TEARS.

the hippos seem to have lost their enthusiasm, as anyone would have if they heard the voice of a grown man come out of their newborn baby.

“he’s... small. very small.”

“goo.”

still, marita sympathises with him. this is very definitely her child, after all! she steals him away to do mom things with, chastising flavio that ‘alfredo’ is “their little boy.”

“oh, you are right, my lightbulb of love. now our little universe has expanded to three.”

yeah, don’t include your.... shoulder... birds, then. asshole.

it’s very cute, i’ll say that. for all the fuss i make about the hippos, they do love each other, in a very healthy way that you don’t often see with married couples on tv. like, they’re kind of slowdancing their way out of the room. it’s nice! they would make good parents.

(”goo.” says brain, in the background, oblivious to the heterosexuality happening around him. “now, take me to my money.”)

credit to flavio and marita; they are very well prepared. this is a very loved baby. i’m not entirely sure how any child would feel about the presence of Clown Bear, but it’s the thought that counts. also i know that’s a changing table? but the design is sick and i wouldn’t mind a chest of drawers like that.

there’s also a theatre, i guess. or..... maybe just a really fancy shower???

Definitely Alfredo is gently placed on his little Alfredo Table. he appears to be asleep, or at least he’s deliberately choosing to keep his eyes closed. can’t think why.

but he, ah. sure went all out for this one. i respect brain for his dedication to the craft.

“now, sweet baby alfredo,” says marita, while the music does a terrifying swell in the background, for some reason, “it is time for your first bath.”

please stop looking at me like that, marita. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO BATHING. am i about to be inducted into the alfredo cult?? i am, admittedly, a manlet, but i would like to think i am also unmistakably larger than a baby hippo.

(google has no data about the height of a baby hippo, apparently. they do weigh about 100lbs at birth, though, so i guess i have to be careful with this losing weight shtick. not that i’m ever gonna weigh 100lbs, quite frankly, but the minute i do marita’s gonna climb through my window and steal me off to los angeles.)

(i’m terrified.) (on the other hand, they’re definitely going to give me back as soon as they work out how much my medication costs over there.)

i’m literally babbling nonsense, at this point. anyway. brain gets a bath.

remember to Wosh U Mouse. wash he teeth and soul. marita proclaims excitedly that “babies love the bath”, and Definitely Alfredo is Definitely Enjoying Himself, judging by the screaming, so, yknow, good for him.

and then, i guess, flavio just pours boiling water on him for no reason, so brain freaks out and launches himself into the light fitting.

because wouldn’t anybody?

the hippos freak out a bit when the lights stop working, but soon get brain back down to resume their usual Alfredo Activities.

“this is highly undignified.”

but still, marita loves him.

and then she stabs him in the dick, i guess.

“GAH.”

“oops ):”

fortunately, nobody ever died of getting stabbed in the dick (as far as i know?) but even magical babies delivered by amazon need to get their vitals checked, so flavita take him to the hospital anyway.

bomf.

i’ll be dead honest with you, this scene is just torture porn. i’ll summarise it as best i can.

temperature is fine. blood pressure is normal. i am pretty sure inflating babies is not standard medical practice, but brain is cosmically unable to have a good day or he dies, i guess.

the doctor shows up.

“oh, but you’re a cutie. say aaaah.”

“if you think that you’re going to stick that thing in my--”

it’s not very comfortable.

“hmm. rather puny.”

“you have to feed him more.”

NOW LET’S TEST YOUR REFLEXES

i’m pretty sure this man has never been to medical school.

“and now to vaccinate. my, that’s a lot of zeros.”

my, that’s a... screenshot that lives on my laptop now, i guess. hopefully nobody i know ever has to borrow this thing, for whatever reason.

“i’ll see you in three months for a booster shot,” says dr acme, as brain swells and changes colours in a way that no baby ever should.

i feel like this is a good time to interject - my issue with this episode is not the core themes, or anything surrounding them. it’s the amount of unrestrained suffering that goes on within that. like. okay. if this was some kind of consensual dynamic between the three of them for-- whatever reason???? stress?????? - like i wouldn’t mind. i wouldn’t care. consenting adults can do whatever they want with their bodies. this is a positive space. no judgement here on pinkys fault or brains fault dot com.

but it’s not and brain spends most of the episode in pain and terrified and that’s really what i object to above all else. it’s the same problem i have with peatb, really. brain can wear as many cute dresses as he wants, but he’s gotta want to wear them.

but they’re back at the Hippo Digs now so. it’s fine, i guess.

“such a good boy. that trip to the doctor wasn’t so bad, was it?”

hm.

still, it appears i can never escape Terrifying News Lady, even in this hellscape. flavio does the classic dad thing of sitting down with the tv as soon as he’s home, leaving marita to deal with getting Definitely Alfredo settled in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby chair.

what are those straps connected to, anyway??? it’s not the chair, that’s for sure. is brain just wearing a harness for the hell of it? what on earth is going on?

but flavio! it’s time to feed the baby!

“is baby-waby hungry-wungry?” well are you, cranky big head mousie??? huh????

sorry for the paralysing fear that probably caused all of you. undeterred, the terrifying news lady continues to talk in the background about the “richest and most influential child in the world.”

oh no.

oh no.

flavio vaguely wonders if they waited too long to feed their baby, as he has what could be possibly classified as a tantrum.

“you sophomoric, corpulent, pachycerebal aristrocrats! you are imposters and i demand to be taken to the rockefellers immediately!”

the birds don’t care. they’re chilling. marita attributes this to “baby gibberish” while flavio wonders about the “vocabulary he learnt from mr rogers”. he’s maybe a few hours old, at this point, a day tops, but i guess hippos learn latin in pre-k or something.

anyway so then they stick a tube down his throat and inflate him with guacamole.

and with that, “alfredo looks healthier already!”

this is the second time brain has been inflated in this episode. it is unsurprising that he dedicates his nights from this point to raising absolute hell.

but he needs pats first because he ate too much. :<

cut to that night, i guess! where brain is very convincingly crying. very loudly. the hippos look unimpressed, despite the fact that this is literally the most common factor of signing up for a baby.

“it’s the baby. you take care of him.”

well. alright.

air mouse. nyoom. he seems to catapult himself at something, like, once per episode. it’s on par with the closeups by now, surely.

bomp.

unfortunately, the bear is not weightbearing (bear ing. lol) and falls off the shelf on an epic quest for a Great Big Hug.

the resulting bomp alerts the hippos, who go fully, entirely haywire the moment they work out that Definitely Alfredo is not in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby bed.

turns out flavio sat on him.

“really, flavio, be more careful where you sit.”

so they put a padlock on his crib.

this is completely useless. i know this. brain knows this. he’s small enough to just... fit through the bars. but he decides to be dramatic, instead, because that’s what he does best.

“attica! attica! i want out! let me out!”

i am not old enough to get this reference.

i am, however, old enough to empathise with this exact emotion. i feel kind of bad for the hippos, actually. i’m sure they were doing what they thought was... right? in the context of... thinking they had a baby hippo rather than an adult mouse. easy mistake to make. i go check on my weirdly tiny hippos in their hippo cage all the time.

but who could be at the door?

“there seems to have been a mix up. uh. i have your baby right here.”

and guys?

i need to tell you how fast they just throw brain at the guy. it’s actually a little heartbreaking.

but! it’s okay! he still has time to make it to the rockefellers before they......... die. i guess.

man, this plan was not thought out very well.

conclusion:

thank god this is almost over.

the stork repackages the baby, who is now a good few hours old, at least, and delivers the bundle to the very, very different looking house.

they are not any nicer.

“oh, reggie. just look at him.”

“goo.”

“well, frau haussenheffer, we’re off on a cruise. goodbye baby. see you in a year.”

parenting!

“alright then. staff, we have a brand new charge.”

oh dear.

brain, as one can imagine, is having none of this.

but unfortunately, neither is the carpet.

bomp. cause of death: suffocating in the rockefeller mansion carpet.

good thing it all sort of blurs out, huh.

“brain?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain, wake up.”

“i was dreaming?”

oh, thank god for that.

“oh, pinky, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare i had.” and it’s... probably best not to tell him, actually.

“it must have been a doozy, brain! but, oh, a delivery came for you.”

“it’s the rockefeller baby. can we keep it?”

oh dear.

so let’s ignore the fact that this asks more questions than it answers-- but okay, was that a dream within a dream, and why was brain dreaming about that in the first place, and-- and mark this one down as a severe case of outside influence.

brain: 3 ½ pinky: 5 ½ outside influence: 10

“it’s not too late. i demand that you deliver me to the rockefellers immediately!”

“

“aw, how cute. i just love baby gibberish.”

[thinkhesaurus]

Well well, if you're gonna twist my arm~ here’s some nsfw headcanons about Owen/Xanatos. gen kinks ahoy

nsf//w and gargoyles spoilers under the cut you know the drill. 

✿ : Has your muse ever had sex before?

...Sort of. As Oberon’s servant, occasionally the king didn’t want to bother with that ridiculous foreplay, so he used Puck as a fluffer. Or if Titania were to kick her husband out of bed, Puck was around to finish Oberon off.

It wasn’t non-consensual, mind. Puck was happy to be of service to his king, but it did blur the lines between his role as his king’s servant or his king’s friend, which he most decidedly turned out not to be. Overall, his feelings about it in retrospect are mixed. He likes things with Xanatos far better.

☜ : Does your muse like to top?

Depends. Owen is something of a service top, and combined with his inexperience, he often stumbles over himself when he isn’t being told what to do in bed. But if Xanatos really wants him to and it makes the man happy, Owen will do whatever he wishes.

As Puck, though? Topping from the bottom is fun. He'll hop up on that stallion and ride Xanatos until he's begging for mercy.

☞ : Does your muse like to bottom?

He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he loves it. He’d act like a complete slut if Xanatos told him to, really. He already likes serving Xanatos. Being treated like nothing more than a wet hole for his master to fuck? Owen has to be careful sometimes not to let his mind wander to that kind of thing while he’s at work. Very....distracting.

☺ : How often does your muse masturbate?

Rarely, if ever. It’s just not something Owen would consider doing on his own. Maybe it’s one of those things someone needs to order him to do...?

☂ : How long does it take your muse to hit climax, usually?

Again, depends on the situation. He’ll almost always try and wait until his partner has been satisfied, at least once before he’d even consider finishing. Of course, if Xanatos has been edging him, working him up and teasing him until he’s aching, He only needs to be given permission, and he cums on command.

✌ : Is your muse good with their hands?

Owen gives incredible massages. He’ll sometimes go up to Xanatos at his desk and simply start rubbing his neck and shoulders if he sees him stretching or looking tense. It was only weird the first time and Xanatos got over it about three seconds in after Owen started working his own little magic on his employer's muscles.

After intensive workouts or martial arts training, Owen will sometimes give Xanatos a full-body massage, working his thumbs into sore muscles with warmed oil on every inch of his body until he has Xanatos turn over, doing the same to his front, watching David’s face carefully for any signs of discomfort as he kneads out tense knots of muscles. If Xanatos wants, He simply grabs Owen’s hand and puts it down between his legs underneath his towel. He knows how to take a hint, and Owen is a very good masseuse.

♡ : Does your muse have any birthmarks or scars they get embarrassed about others seeing?

He does have the stone hand. He’s not ashamed of it, but it can sometimes make sex a little inconvenient, and borderline dangerous if he’s not careful about where he’s swinging his hand. Xanatos used to just do his best to ignore it and settle for being touched with only one warm hand. After having time to reflect on why Owen even did what he did to turn his arm to stone, he takes time to touch it, to kiss the knuckles of it like a servant to a king. he likes the way it makes Owen stare at him.

(....and one time Xanatos made a fisting joke and Owen cut off sex for a month)

Á : Is your muse loud in bed?

No, and he tries his hardest to be quiet, too. So much so that Xanatos deliberately tries to do things that’ll get Owen to gasp, to moan, to make those delightful sounds that Owen would never make otherwise, those sounds that only he could get Owen to make.

⚔ : Does your muse have any specific kinks?

I don’t know if u could possibly tell from the rest of these entries, but Owen is a SUB. I headcanon that Fox and David are some of his first sexual partners, but the both of them are very experienced and figure out Owen’s desire to be useful and needed goes even deeper than they ever thought. Being ordered around, dirty talk, and edging are a few things he’s shown a particular liking for. 

☌ : Would/does your muse have any special piercings anywhere? Would they get some?

He’s a little squeamish about the idea of having a piercing in his own body, But he’s quite a fan of Fox’s nipple and clit piercings, and gives them plenty of attention~

♥ : Does your muse like to cuddle after sex? Anything else for aftercare?

Aftercare was something Owen had to get used to. He likes to devote himself to Xanatos, to anyone he cares about, and sometimes pushes himself into subspace too fast, or exhausts himself and doesn’t feel like he should ask David to put himself out just for him. With some well meaning pressure from Xanatos, Owen has gotten better about everything from using safe words to asking for a glass of water or a cuddle every now and again. Xanatos had just been hoping Owen would ask.

👅-Would they rather give or receive oral sex?

Give. Not that he doesn’t mind being on the receiving end, but pleasuring his master or mistress with his mouth and feeling them shudder and cum at the flick of his tongue is almost more satisfying than an orgasm to him.

👠-Do they watch pornography? If so, what kind?

Not exactly porn, but Xanatos has a thing for his creepy little spy cameras all over the castle and his office. He and Owen will fuck somewhere in the Eyrie building and later, the minute Owen’s forgotten about it, Xanatos will call Owen over to his desk to look at something on his computer. Most of the time it’s work, but now and then, one of the security tapes will be playing. “No,” Xanatos says when Owen tries to look away, embarrassed. “Watch,” he orders, and of course, Owen obeys, forced to watch and listen to his own moans and embarrassing whimpers played back for him. 

💋-Do they use tongue when they kiss?

Owen doesn’t care for it much, but he forgets that when he’s being fucked.

😈-Favorite sex position?

Call him vanilla, but he likes it missionary, with his legs wrapped around David’s dark hips pounding into him. He likes watching Xanatos’s face, the way his pupils dilate and strands of his hair fall from that normally perfect ponytail while he’s being thrusted into. But anything that makes him feel a little helpless is a huge turn-on for him.

Puck likes it like a cowgirl yeehaw 🤠💦

👎🏻-What is an absolute deal breaker in the bedroom?

Despite the fact he’s devoted to pleasing his partner in bed, Owen gets very angry and upset if he’s forced into something or handled too roughly without being informed or asked first. And believe me, you do NOT piss off the fae.

🐶-Favorite pet name they like to be called?

Honestly? He just really likes hearing Xanatos call him Owen. 

👄-Do they swallow?

When Xanatos cums, Owen looks up at him, obediently waiting for instruction. Xanatos always has him swallow, of course, but sometimes he likes to make Owen open his mouth, stick his tongue out and show his boss his handiwork before having him swallow it. Best part for him is David stroking his hair and moaning “good boy” at him.

👙-Favorite outfit in the bedroom?

Xanatos enjoys trying out all manner of leather, harnesses, gags and cockrings on Owen, who’s happy to model, of course. Xanatos never stops praising Owen’s body, his looks, his hazy blue eyes. Owen can’t deny the rush he gets from being gagged and collared, but he thinks Xanatos always looks best in his usual sleek black attire. Owen is partial to wearing cuffs and restraints as well.

💦-Best place for their partner to cum on/in?

He likes being on the receiving end, but he doesn't much care for the cleanup, Before or after. He prefers to swallow it, and he gets grumpy if Xanatos gets any on his glasses, even if Xanatos insists on how much he loves the sight of it.

🌶-Most sensitive place on their body?

For more casual romantic touches, Owen is content with as little as a hand on his shoulder-He’s not much for pda. More intimately though, Owen’s relatively new to having nipples, and might have overshot their sensitivity just a little... And Puck loves getting his long ears gently stroked or his hair played with.

👑-Daddy kink, yes or no?

Definitely not, so that’s why Puck has been waiting to break out the “daddy” card for years just to see the look on Xanatos’ face. It’ll happen. One day. He’s just biding his time. 

🍒-When and how did they lose their virginity, if they have?

Hundreds of years ago, to someone he was close to on Avalon.             

💍-Ever had an affair?

Xanatos and Fox have a well established open marriage so....only on paper?

🏢-Most public place they’ve had sex, or would like to have sex?

Owen pushed up against the glass of Xanatos’ office while his boss fucked him senseless, cock dripping precum onto the glass. The entire Manhattan skyline was shining below them, and everything Xanatos was looking at was all his.

[m00nslippers]

In crushing au or any au what lantern do u think Jason would be? I personally would think Jason would be hope or love. if so how would the green lanterns or anyone would react to Jason being a lantern and him wearing a bad ass suit that combines his red hood gear with what ever lantern he is?

Okay now, I only knew sort of bare bones knowledge about the various corps, so I did some research…and I’ve come to a conclusion. You might say it plays into some misconceptions people tend to have about Jason, but I didn’t come by this decision lightly, I have real arguments. So how about I tell you why I think Jason wouldn’t be various lantern colors and then I’ll get to the ones I think are more likely. We aren’t counting white and black, because black is just death as in being dead, and white is a cop-out because it’s every color.

Orange Lantern: Greed. Jason is one of the least greedy characters there is. He’s selfless, he grew up poor, he does not have strong attachments to the material. He has been known to give up profit or money in various heroic efforts–he blew up weapons he could have sold for profit, used money to protect civilians, gave up profit to keep drug dealers under his territory from selling to children. He’s just not a greedy person. He wouldn’t be an orange lantern.

Yellow Lantern: Fear. While the Red Hood certainly inspires fear in many people, he doesn’t rely on it like Batman does (who was canonically a yellow ring bearer). In fact Jason’s entire agenda is that he believes there are those who are not inspired by fear to turn from their crimes and that such people need to be killed to protect their future victims. Also, Jason’s costume is not designed to make people afraid, it was mostly designed to be practical and to hide his identity from Bruce. So Jason being a Yellow Lantern isn’t very likely in my opinion.

Violet Lantern: Love. Now Jason is certainly a kind person who identifies with victims and wants to protect people, he’s a person who loves deeply. But the Violet Lanterns power does not seem to come from this broader understanding of love that includes filial or platonic or empathetic love. It seems to exclusively be about Romantic Love. And Jason? Putting aside that he’s a man and men don’t seem to be allowed to be a Violet Lantern for dumb reasons, he’s never had a real romantic relationship that lasted beyond a few dates. He does not seem to be especially interested in Romantic relationships in general and a lot of people even headcanon that he might be aro or ace because of his dearth of love interests. And even if he was in a relationship, it’s hard to imagine that he would be so overcome with emotion that he would put said relationship above everything else. That’s just not him. So no, I don’t think Jason would be a Violet Lantern either.

Blue Lantern: Hope. Those who are primarily chosen for this corps are not those who have a lot of hope, but are able to inspire people to fight. Now…Jason can and has done this. His Outlaws are a great example because everyone who has been on his team are there specifically to support him. They fight because and for Jason specifically, they aren’t there for prestige and some of them aren’t even there to be heroes or save people or do anything in particular, they just care about Jason and decide to support him. So Blue Lantern Jason…it’s viable. I think compared to someone like Dick, for example, he is not particularly good at this though, so I don’t think this is the lantern color for Jason.

Indigo Lantern: Compassion. Now at first I was like, oh it’s this one, it has to be. Jason is so compassionate, he identifies with victims so strongly that he feels the need to kill to prevent victims, so this has to be his ring color, right? Well…as it turns out, those who are chosen for this indigo tribe are those who actually lack compassion (sociopaths, basically). The ring seeks out people who have committed a great atrocity and causes them to feel remorse for their actions. If you already have compassion, it doesn’t work right, you can’t channel the Indigo light, it gets turned into some other emotion. Now Jason has certainly done things that some people think he should feel remorse about and which he does not, but… I think because those actions had justifiable reasoning behind them, even if some people might disagree, it would probably still make those not count. So, as for the emotion behind the ring color, totally Jason, but as the corps exist in the comics? Naw, he ain’t an Indigo lantern either.

Ultraviolet Lantern: Shame. This one I don’t know much about, it seems to feed off of negative emotion, specifically shame. Now Jason doesn’t have much shame. He generally believes even his more villainous actions to be justified. The only one of his actions he’s ever expressed much shame about was hurting Tim before he reconciled with the other bats, but Tim is okay so in the end it’s not much to be ashamed of, there wasn’t any lasting damage. Certainly if he ever changed him mind about killing then there would be a lot of shame to harness, but as of the canon we have? No, he’s not a person who feels much shame or remorse for his actions. So that being the case, I’m not convinced that Jason would make a very powerful Ultraviolet Lantern.

Green Lantern: Will. Now, green lanterns are those who seem to be able to overcome hardship and trials to accomplish their goals. They have a certain tenacity and practicality and ability to ignore fear. They also seem to be people who are imaginative/creative. Jason fits both of these criteria, he has gone against everything he was taught by Bruce, even given up the love of the man he considers his father, because he believed what he was doing was right and necessary. Jason does not give up, he keeps fighting, he doesn’t compromise on his beliefs, he doesn’t draw a line on how far he’s willing to go to protect people. He decides to do something and he doesn’t stop until it’s played out to it’s completion, he was beaten to death by the Joker and he still protected a women who betrayed him with his own body. He overcomes fear so completely that even in the face of hallucinations of his worst fears, he doesn’t break down, he overcomes. And we all know how damn dramatic Jason is, you think that comes out of thin air? He has imagination, he’s creative in his strategy. Jason could be a Green Lanten and he’d be a damn powerful one too.

Red Lantern: Anger. Red is the stereotypical choice for Jason when people try to assign him a lantern color because he’s ‘an angry person’. Now, contrary to what people tend to say and what Bruce and Dick themselves claim in the comics, Jason isn’t actually a very angry person. He rarely curses, doesn’t act recklessly out of anger, lose or use his temper on people who aren’t objectively evil or deserving of his ire except in a few instances that can be attributed to the Lazarus Pit’s influence or poor characterization…generally he acts very calm except for one, very specific subject–and that is Bruce refusing to avenge his death, and betraying his trust by (in his eyes) replacing him as if he didn’t matter. Jason is angry because he was wronged and damn is that anger powerful. Now this ties in perfectly with the type of people chosen by red lantern rings, who aren’t just angry people with tempers, but people with righteous anger, who have been subject to a loss or injustice. That describes Jason to a T. Furthermore, Red lanterns are basically immortal because their blood gets replaced with red lantern juice/power and coming back from the dead is Jason’s claim to fame. Also like…Red Hood? Red Lantern? Both red. It’s not my big argument, but that color wasn’t chosen because it had no association with Jason at all. He’s associated with red for a reason.

So, in conclusion, if I’m assigning Jason a lantern ring, he’s going to be either a green or red lantern, more probably a red lantern and Atrocitus better pray Jason never gets a red ring because he’d have that guy out on his ass in ten seconds flat, and anyone who got in his way would be fucked. I think his red hood gear would pair great with the Red Lantern uniform. I just imagine his black boots with bright red soles.

[radiojamming]

u should write a fic where the deputy is joseph's kid

SHE’S BACK AND SHE’S PISSED

(also this is probs just variations on a theme since i know a lot of people have done this before. this is just my take plus some background headcanons, so hopefully it’s entertaining at least!)

- - -

Ana feels like she’s about to make a huge embarrassment of herself in front of the marshal. She feels like she’s going to throw up all over his lap, and with the way he’s looking at her, she might look like that’s exactly what she’s about to do. Her stomach is rolling with nerves, and she’s probably annoying him by drumming her fingers on her knees and bouncing her feet to try to ground some of that nervous energy. Fortunately, the marshal doesn’t say anything, although Pratt peers over his shoulder and gives her a good-natured, “Christ, would you settle down?”

No, she really can’t. But she does manage to hold still long enough for the marshal to look away from her in disinterest.

She only half-listens to Whitehorse and the marshal’s conversation, because she already knows what’s at stake. If anything, she probably knows more than anyone else in the helicopter, let alone the sheriff’s department. The kicker is that no one knows that she knows, and she’d like to keep it that way for at least another half hour or so.

They slowly pass by the statue of the Father, and there’s a strange twist in Ana’s gut at seeing it practically glowing under the moonlight. They turn a sort of half circle around it, and for one poetic moment, she feels like his eyes are on her. One of his hands is outstretched, pointing upward, beckoning. Ana stares at it as long as she’s able, until he slips out of her periphery and back into the darkness.

There’s a stilted silence that follows the statue’s appearance, as though no one in the helicopter is quite sure of what to say. Ana looks at the arrest warrant in the marshal’s hands, as incriminating as plain black ink on white paper can be. Joseph’s name is printed in prominent even print, crowned with the seal of the Department of Justice. For a long while, his name is all Ana can look at, and an entire conversation with dispatch passes by, completely unheard, until Pratt speaks up again, saying something about bringing Nancy along rather than her.

It’s a joke. She knows it is. But Ana can’t help the way her head snaps up, leveling a glare with Pratt that he meets with wide, surprised eyes. There’s a strain at the corners of his mouth, and he quickly turns his head away. 

Good, because there’s no way they could have left her behind. She’s worked too damn hard to be in this exact helicopter on this exact day. 

Then, the cult’s compound comes into view as flickers of firelight and a church that’s bone-white in the silvery light of the moon. When Whitehorse gives the order to bring the helicopter down, Ana knows then more than ever that nothing in her life is going to be the same.

She’s at peace with that.

- - -

Anastasia Rook carries two photographs in her wallet at all times.

The first one is of Ana and her mom sitting on the edge of a fountain at Disney World. Her mom is exaggeratedly leaning across Ana’s lap in a swoon while Ana is caught in a laugh. Disney World was Ana’s senior trip in high school, and probably one of the happiest memories she has. 

The second one is of two people that Ana has never met; at least, has never remembered meeting. It’s a man and a woman at some kind of party, maybe a wedding judging by their clothes. The woman is in a black cocktail dress with a small string of pearls around her neck. Her dark hair has that sort of mid-90s fluff to it, as does her fire engine-red lipstick. She has this great snarky grin in the picture, holding up a pair of black high heels by the straps on one finger. Beside her is a young man with his arm around the woman’s waist. Like Ana in the Disney World picture, whoever took the photo caught him halfway through a laugh. His eyes are squeezed closed behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. He’s wearing a suit with his black tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. 

Ana doesn’t know these people, but at the same time she does. She knows that the man and woman are her biological parents; Mother and Father in a way that the people who adopted her are mom and dad. The photograph is all that’s left of the two of them, having last been carried in her mother’s wallet on the day that she died. 

She knows her mother died in a hospital in South Carolina after a car accident, because Ana also has a copy of her mother’s death certificate now tucked away in a manila folder back at Ana’s apartment. And she knows that her father never came back for her. Or if he did, he didn’t stay.

He didn’t take her home.

All that’s left of him other than a photograph is a name written in blurred typewriter font on her birth certificate. Joseph Seed, who went on to be a preacher in Georgia, who was involved in a possible kidnapping outside of Savannah, who started a new religious movement that made headlines for good reasons until suddenly they didn’t–

Who now is the Father of the Project at Eden’s Gate.

That’s who Ana’s father is, and she’s spent the last decade or so of her life trying to find him, to match the man in her photograph to the man sentenced to be arrested.

- - -

All the marshal has to say is, “Joseph Seed, you’re under arrest,” and Ana feels like her entire world has been shifted on an angle. She feels like the creaking floorboards under her feet are liable to fall out from under her at any second. It feels like a dream, facing her family that isn’t her family, because her true family is probably sleeping safe in their beds half a country away, blissfully unaware of what’s happening. 

There are two men that she knows are her uncles. She knows from vital county records that Jacob Seed is the oldest, then her father, and then John Seed. Ana doesn’t know who the woman on the right is, but she slots herself so neatly into the appearance of the family that Ana’s left to wonder what her role is. 

And then–

Her father.

Her actual, real, biological, flesh-blood-and-DNA father is standing in front of her. There’s only a fleeting resemblance to the laughing man in the photograph, but she knows it’s him. Even in the strange, smoky light of the church, even with the scars and tattoos and the massive gold aviators hiding his eyes, Ana feels it more than anything. Maybe that’s dramatic, or she’s being poetic again, but there’s absolutely something there, even if his eyes don’t light up with recognition when they fall on her. 

But she does see his brow pinch for a moment, and he lingers there, hands outstretched, watching her with this odd sort of passiveness. She gets the idea that she and the rest of the sheriff’s department are playing into something that’s been a long time coming, like a couple pawns shuffled just so on a chessboard. And har-dee-har-har, that’s rich, because of the white yarn embroidering ROOK on the patch on Ana’s chest. Switch out two consonants and a double vowel and she might be on the other side of this confrontation.

That thought weighs oddly heavy on her as she feels the cool steel of the handcuffs through her gloves. Part of her wants to just stop the whole circus right then and there, to ask the fifty questions that have been sitting on the other end of the scale in her head for the last decade. She wants to ask if her father even knew she was alive, if he even knows who she is. She wants to pull that photograph from her wallet and shove it right under those ridiculous sunglasses, showing him that she knows. She wants to tell him how she’s followed him through birth and death certificates, newspaper clippings, and articles tucked away in internet archives. 

Mostly, she wants to ask him why.

Why did he leave her in that hospital? Why did he walk away that night, leaving a dead wife and an infant daughter that he’d never get to know? Why did he leave South Carolina on one rainy night and turn up on the other side of the country in a fucking doomsday cult? 

There’s no right way to ask, and apparently no right time. Ana can’t figure out how to pause this scene where she needs it to stop, just to say, Oh! Hold up! This is my actual father and I’ve spent the past few years relentlessly hunting him down! I need to talk to him before we go hauling him off to prison.

Instead, she’s left with handcuffs dangling from her left hand, both of his hands outstretched to her like an offering.

“Cuff him, Rook,” she hears the marshal say.

There’s a pause. There is a perfect pause. She could ask half her questions in that pause.

Ana grits her teeth and reaches out, latching the cuffs shut on her father’s wrists.

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Soulless Riffing: Brainless Ch. 7 + 8

I got a supernatural action/romance book series as a gift that’s just riddled with stuff that I hate….and as a steampunk Victorian London action romance story filled with werewolves and vampires…it’s yeah gonna be easy to poke fun at.

I just want to say, it’s totally cool if you like this story or ones like it!  It’s certainly a better caliber than a lot of what I make fun of…however…I can’t help but want to make fun of it.

Over here for the 1st chapter, 2nd chapter, 3rd chapter, 4th chapter, 5th chapter, and 6th chapter.

7 is a short one so I’m doubling up.  SO FUCK IT HERE GOES!

We have another page and a half of our dip-shit leads making out before they decide they can’t get carried away.  Of course, just as they’re gathering themselves the good professor and Ivy (inexplicably) show up.  The prof whispers urgent BUR news to Maccon.  So Maccon rushes off to deal with it, with the promise that he’s going to send someone to replace Lyall on guard duty cause he looks 8 levels of exhausted.  Immediately after that Alexia begins to grill Lyall on what the BUR business could possibly be, since she’s on that case too.

HAHA JUST KIDDING!

She instead grills Lyall on werewolf courting rituals.

Gotta say Prof. Lyall is a fucking saint, cause even if I was highly energized I would have no patience to continuously consul a 26 year old woman going, “Okay he just told to me, to my face that he likes me…BUT DOES HE LIKE ME!?”

He basically tells her that women are supposed to make the moves in werewolf culture and that he does in fact like her.  But thankfully Prof. Lyall  is relieved of babysitting duties by a polite, meathead-looking dude who goes by Mr. Haverbink.  When the girls head into another room, Ivy turns to Alexia and says,

“Ah, for the countryside, what scenery there abides…,”

Alexia congratulates her on saying something wicked. And like huh??? There’s no mention of where Haverbink is from.  I tried looking up that quote, in case there was some context I’m missing but it only brings me back to this book.  I think she’s trying to say that Mr.Haverbink is hunky? Or the opposite?  Oh well! THIS IS DEFINITELY A WELL-WRITTEN BOOK!

Say something Nice Faps:

During this chapter’s making-out Alexia takes charge and bites the hell out of Maccon’s neck while he squirms in ecstasy.  I hate these two, but I love sexually aggressive women and enthusiastically submissive men.  

Also biting is hot, I am here for that.

I’m headcanoning Ivy’s perplexing quote as her being horny for musclemen, and Alexia celebrating that horniness.  I’m so glad Ivy isn’t framed as some pathetic outcast that Alexia keeps around to make herself feel better.

Chapter 8

This chapter starts with Alexia’s clones I MEAN AWFUL FAMILY showing up and bragging about the expensive clothing they just bought. Her step-father shrugs exasperated at this, for he is a cucked man holding the purses of the women whom he serves. 

Sorry author I can’t hear your implicit judgment about how terrible ~passive~ men are over the sound of MacDougall squealing in delight as I crop the hell out of that sweet tushy.

Alexia judges the hell out of her family for buying expensive clothes, while wearing a forest green carriage dress with gold filigree buttons down the front, and an elegant new broad-brimmed straw hat.

You can’t make yourself sound like one of the ~good ones~ when you roll your eyes at your family for buying expensive clothing on a whim considering you have an extensive wardrobe and you never had to work to pay for any of it. So tutting at your sisters for THE SAME FUCKING SHIT YOU DO is such dog shit.

GO TO HELL!

Also Alexia makes a bitchy comment about how her mother dresses younger than she should, which causes her mother to punish her and storm off.  But for her sisters to respond (when momma is out of sight), “Ya u right, what an awful woman for dressing how she wants. Haha way to own her!” Like, this is supposed to be fun for us?  Literally the only bad things you can claim her mother has actually done in the text so far is make some benign judgmental statements about vampires and scientists.  Which like, is better than a daughter telling her mother, to her face, that she can’t wear pretty clothes anymore because she’s old and hideous.

I cannot wait for the triumphant scene where Alexia calls her family judgmental.  I may even take MacDougall’s cock out of my mouth long enough to gasp in feigned surprise.

This author puts a lot of effort into making her male villains, villainous but almost 0 into making the female baddies detestable.  I honestly think she’s just banking on a self-misogynistic crowd reading and she’s not fucking wrong.

But after this she heads to bed.  She is awakened by a fight outside where her new vampire guards are battling that zombie thing. Eventually the REAL instead of SUPERNATURAL police show up. (Why are there separate ones? EH) and the zombie thing runs off.  But lord, they describe the police as having a gun that shoots silver bullets for werewolves, that’s all well and good, but they also have one for vampires that shoots wooden stakes, and just wow.  It’s hard for me to imagine something lamer than a Springfield that spews splinters.  Maybe a sap/blackjack but instead of lead balls it’s full of garlic cloves? SHEESH!

YOU DO REALIZE that silver is supposed to hurt vampires too right?

Anyway the zombie makes its escape. Alexia sleeps in the next morning to find that Lord Maccon has been waiting for her for an hour but refused to have her woken up.  Which like? Okay?

She goes in and Lord Maccon calls her family, “fibberty jibbitus.”

YES this manly werewolf hunk called her family fucking FIBBERTY JIBBITUS! HAHA KILL ME! But like, of course he thinks her family is shit cause we’re supposed to assume a protag’s family is bad hardy har har.

He talks about how the BUR headquarters were burgled and that they know for sure they’re targeting Alexia specifically.  I mean that literally happened last night, this isn’t new information but okay fine.  Neither he nor his pack can protect her tonight because they’re on lockdown for the full moon. Do you know what else the full moon means? Maccon be horny. They over describe it and use this wonderful line,

“his mind possessed all the clarity of pea soup full of ham-hock-sized chunks of need, “

This is the same problem E.L James has.  She tries to write like cutesy, dumb horny lines for funsies...but they’re so beyond dumb it makes it sound as if it’s somebody discovering they have gentiles for the 1st time.  You’d think readers who are self-aware enough to seek out horny material....would maybe be okay with characters who have been horny more than once?

Alexia asks him if he likes her, this time he says he does in much more round-about and awkward way with such brilliant lines of (word for word)

“it very difficult to imagine not, not disliking you on a regular and intimate basis for a very long time to come.”

They get in a bit of a spat over who should apologize for that dinner where they ignored each other like petulant brats but forget they’re fighting to MAKE OUT SOME MORE.

Alexia is sure he doesn’t want to marry her but she is way down to ride that dog dick so she asks him if he wants to be her Mistress. Apparently she doesn’t know what a male lover is called….Maybe just LOVER YOU TWIT?

Lord Maccon exclaims angrily at this and that makes her family BURST IN!

OH NO!? HOW WILL ALL THESE CHILDREN HANDLE THIS VERY BENIGN SITUATION!?

Say something Nice Faps:

PLOT happened this chapter!...Sorta?

The action scene was overall described well.

Alexia was close to saying, “Yo dawg, wanna be my bitch?”

[dreammutual-remade]

idol!you and lucas

request: please do a bullet scenario about lucas and his gf both being sm idols - anon

word count: 2.6k 

a/n: first of all,,,, this gif hurts me badly, seCOND OF ALL im so sorry for the inactivity !!  I have finals this week and I graduate really soon n ive just been v busy !!! also I had hella writers block trying to finish this ish up but I hope u like it anon !!!!its a lil hard for me to write as an idol just because thats such a Wildt lifestyle but I did my best ily

warnings: cursing n also some crying because god knows all of our boys prolly have during their idol days :(((((((

what’s up butter cup

let’s dive tf in

as a pre-warning thingy i’m making you a singer so i’m very sorry if you can’t sing i can’t either bby

alright so this story begins when you’re not even 16 years old and you audition for a bunch of companies

tbh you didn’t think you were /that/ good at singing or dancing but ???

all the companies wanted you??? you got offers from JYP and SM and Pledis ????? go off queen

we stan

anyways

you decide to go with SM since they produced leGENDS SHINEE

FUCK I LOVE THOSE GUYS

(binch if u went to JYP u literally could have been in TWICE ?!?/&.&. ABSOLUTE LEGENDS UR LOSS THOT)

also because you just think that’ll be best for you ?? idk we don’t judge here (i already did though i’m So Sorry)

on your first day as a trainee you’re in search of the female dorms and you just can’t find them

eventually you run into this,,,, Gang Of Adolescent Boys

they’re wearing dorky ass muscle tees and keep saying shit about “foreign swaggers”

(.... y’all already know who it is sjdkdkd)

and you’re Meek and New and Small so you’re like um, hellowherearethegirlsdormsplease

okay there’s four of them and they’re all fckin huge except for one

the Biggest One with the american accent points you in the right direction and you try to scurry away but end up smacking into the Second Biggest One’s arm because he moved in your way on accident ouchie

“god lucas why don’t you just run the poor girl over”

“hYUNG PLEASE”

“hehehhehe i’m just kiddin”

and you just kind of mumble that it’s fine and go on your way

okay so you train for three yEARS before your debut

and you def come out of your shell alright like you’re Extroverted and whatnot

you still see those boys and even make friends with mark and donghyuck and the Foreign Members

but the entirety of the group you met has debuted except Lucas

you’re not close but you wave and say hi when you see each other

you turn pink everytime from Emotions and also Holding Your Breathe Due To Anxiety

and he was cute years ago but he’s only gotten prettier with age dude

they recently dyed his hair to give him some Blonde Stuff and he looks reaLLY GOOD

LIKE TO THE POINT WHERE U HAVE TROUBLE LOOKING HIM IN THE EYE

but eventually you’re like hey now i’m a grown woman i can handle this giant childish man !!! quit that @ emotions

alright so you debut like, days before him no lie

you’re a solo artist bc idk

red velvet was full 😔🤟

anyways you’ve been filming the video for the past couple weeks and the concept is sort of filmy and shimmery like old sparkly anime water u kno ?

and you’re wearing similar stuff to what ten was wearing in the new heroes mv (BIG OOF) except less warm toned ?

like swishy sort of see through white shirts and spandex underneath

you’re a Beautiful and Skilled dancer so they have u all over the place with this choreo

on the FLOOR on the WALL in the AIR

no joke they had you in a harness doing cool swirly shit in the air this is the stuff of legends my g

but like the inside of SM ? is very cold

if you’re not filming you’re bundled up in a blanket and trying to rub the goosebumps out of your arms and legs

because you have to look all smooth and flawless for filming and those are two things goosies are not

luckily the song wasn’t a huge ballad because it’s rather hard to belt out long ass notes when you’re upside down lmao

anyways, the song is a bop and the mv is beautiful and you are wearing minimal clothing and although these are all nice things but also

RECIPE FOR DISASTER

the filming is almost done thank GOD

you’re taking a break from filming and you go out in the hall in your costume to go get another water bottle because ain’t nobody around to give a pre debut thot a water bottle 🤧🤧

your arms are wrapped around yourself when lucas jogs up behind you and throws his jacket around you??

literally throws it like you made an oof noise

“um ,? thank you that was aggressive”

“i knOw i’m sorry it’s just you are practically naked and it’s Cold in here and also walking behind you i noticed you were Very Exposed sO”

you turn bright red because that means everyone has seen your ass prolly and you duck your head and pull the jacket tighter around yourself

“oh! i’m sorry i mean you look uhh? really good ?? yeah you look good nOT that i was looking super hard or anything or that i uH saw aNything BUt if i did it would look good i’m sure nOT THAT I thInK about that ?$/&/“

and now you’re both blushing very hard but you feel a little better when you see he’s just as flustered as you

you brush your fingers on his forearm to get him to stop staring at the floor and tell him thanks and ask about when he’s debuting

he tells you the mv filming is done since they had to go Real Far Away to do it and get it done ahead of time and that the teasers will be out in three weeks and then the mv release and then its Show Time Baby

you’re excited for him and he’s excited and you debut really soon as well and he’s excited for you and !!!!!

there’s excitement all over the place

he’s smiling so big and his eyes are cute and crinkly and :(((((

you still got a crush on him /sigh/

one of the staff literally yells your name down the hall and you’re like aw shit that’s my cue lol

you leave him with with a lil squeeze of his bicep and you’re BOTH shook

him because ?? was that fLIRTING

you because ?? THAT WAS FLIRTING

also because his biceps are thicc i’m gonna cry

big baby stands there for like 3 mins just shook and with uwus oozing from his pores

you skrt very quickly to avoid the consequences of your actions and get back to filming

okay TIME SKIP

your mv was released and did GOOD AS FUCK

you didn’t hear it from me but lucas + nct boys were seen on vlive jamming the fuck out to your song

you’re backstage like 10 mins from going on and having an absolute panic attack

what if you trip ??? or your voice breaks !!:&::

what if all the reviews say you’re Trash live and that the mv was better since they edited

what if you FLOP AND HAVE NO FANS

NO ONE DOES THE FANCHANTS

FUCK FUXKFUCKFUXKCUDJ

so you do call the king of debuts

mark lee

and you’re like mARK FUCK IM GOING TO CRASH AND BURN PLEAS LLSSE DHELPD ME

he tells you to Calm The Fuck Down and assures you it’ll be fine but it’s not working and mark is but a young boy he don’t know how to deal with FEMALES

you hear some deep ass voice on the other side ask who’s on the phone and mark says your name and then the voice is closer and deMANDING to be given the phone

u already kno it’s our boy yukhei

he can hear you gasping through the phone and having a mental breakdown and immediately makes his voice all low and soft

wow i’m , affected writing this shit

“hey, y/n, listen to me, you’re okay, you’re fine. i promise it’ll be okay.”

“bUT WHAT IF I-“

“you won’t. you’ve worked too hard and practiced too much. i know you i saw you do it. do NOT let all of that go down the drain. you can do this. now get your cute ass out there and take NO SHIT”

“i know but i am, scared”

“don’t be! this is what you love isnt it?”

“i mean,,,, yeah”

“and you want to do this more than anything don’t you?”

“well , yeah”

“then for gods sake don’t be a wimp and do it”

“hey i miss the part of this conversation where you were being nice to me”

“that part’s over babe you need some TOUGH LOVE now please for me and for yourSELF get out there”

“okay.. thanks lucas”

“anything for you, angel”

yOU HANG UP SO QUICK

how dare he

you were all Comforted but then he went on with that angel bullshit

okay long story short you ended the industry dude

all solo artists BOW BEFORE YOU

VOCAL QUEEN

DANCE QUEEN

lucas: shaking because His Angel did so well and you were wearing white and actually looked like an angel

but you don’t see him for the next like twO MONTHS because he’s promoting boss and you’re promoting your single and neither of you are home ever

when you do get a second to yourself you try to send him an encouraging text but

you seldom get a second to yourself :(((

he does the same thing and they’re so sweet :(

“good morning i hope u slept well !!”

“princess don’t forget 2 hydrate”

“i saw ur mnet performance u looked beautiful <333”

this man is practically begging you to wife him up i mean

he’s cute

he’s BIG and WARM

very sweet to you :(

talented and lovely

absolute dweeb

supportive of you even from great distances

BEST BOY UWU

you try to be just as encouraging back because he deserves it UGH

“bub don’t forget to eat i know ur hungry rn”

“!!!!!! you came foR MY LUNGS WITH THAT CENTER DANCE AT THE END BOI”

“why are u sending me messages u need to rest bby :((“

when things calm down though you,, see each other

he doesn’t formally ask you out and you don’t say anything but, youre dating sort of kind of

as idols you’re both still so so busy and you JUST debuted so neither of you are really allowed to date anyways

you settle for little bits of cuddling and secret touches as you pass each other in the hall

you both stand outside of your respective dorms at night to facetime without waking your dorm mates

he desperately wants to go on dates and do Normal Couple things but there’s no time :(

the most affectionate you’ve ever been is when the girl group who shares a dorm with you was out promoting and you had him over and you took a nap together :((((

he Insisted upon being the big spoon and basically wrapped your whole body up with his limbs

pressed a few lil kisses to the back of your neck and your shoulder when he thought you were asleep

you weren’t though and you turned around to kiss him on the cheek and then tuck your face into his neck and pass tf out

he has to leave though because mark texts him and is like YO I KNO UR WITH Y/N AND HER ROOMMATES ARE ON THE WAY HOME

ABORT MISSION DUDE

and that’s pretty much it :(

months pass without much between you even though you’re trying your best

and even though you live in dorms you’re still so lonely especially when you’re traveling because you don’t have any group members

you don’t want to annoy or worry lucas though so you don’t complain

he notices though and late at night he’ll call you while you’re in bed and talk about his day and how he misses you and wishes you were there

and when you get all emo he says he’ll be waiting for you at the airport

(he really does he goes and hides in the bathroom and texts you so you can go in there and TACKLE HIM)

he still calls you angel all the time :((((

god that’s another weakness of mine ??? IM SUCH A WUSS

but it has specifically changed to “my angel”

uwu

your first kiss and first Real Confession happens on the Worst Day Of Your Life

you’re about to go on stage (you’ve released an album since your debut so this is new stuff) when you get a call from your mom ??

she’s crying and tells you your grandma is sick and in the hospital and it’s really bad

immediately you’re barely holding yourself together because that woman half raised you and was the reason you stayed in dance and worked so hard to become who you are today

there are tears streaming down your face already and the makeup team is fluttering around you trying to fix what you’re messing up and it’s bad

you still have to go on though so you go and perform with tears in your eyes and your manager yells at you after for not pulling it together

you go home in tears and then you’re not looking where you’re going and ran straight into a staff who yells at you some more for being some entitled idol brat

originally you weren’t gonna say anything to lucas but, the staff pushed you over the edge and you call him in tears and are incoherent and can barely tell him where you are before you hang up

our boy BURSTS into your room and sees you sitting on the floor with your face buried in your knees and 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 !!

he gathers you in his arms and sits on the bed with you curled up on his lap

he holds you close and rubs a comforting hand up and down your back at the same time as he frantically tries to figure out what’s wrong

“y/n?? baby what’s wrong? angel, please you gotta tell me or i cant help”

“i jjJJUST Got a cALL and my grandMA IS SICK AND THEN I DI D BAD AND DISAPPOINTED EVERYONE AND My mManageR yeYELLED at me and theN I RAN iNtO a staffF meMbEr and he yELled at me too and I JSUT .$:&:&;& i’m sO SORRY u doNT need to deAL WIYH ME you have problems of YouR own and-“

“shhh listen to me i always care about you okay? angel, i want to help you no matter what you know that. also, if you weren’t so distraught i would go beat some SM ass you didn’t deserve to be yelled at :(((( how about we call your mom and check for updates with your grandma and i’ll stay here with you for the night?”

you nod and then reach for your phone while keeping as much physical contact with lucas as possible

he’s the only reason you haven’t reached the Depression Point Of No Return so

we stayin close

you put your mom on speaker and set your phone down before squishing yourself back into his chest and sniffling while the phone rings

your mom answers and you shakily ask for any updates and she tells you not much but your grandma has improved and they think that within a couple weeks she’ll be better

you cry some more and tell her you love them both and you’re so relieved and lucas kisses the crown of your head and is just There For Comforting

once you hang up and you’ve calmed down a little more you back up a little and turn to face him

“hey thank you so much, you didn’t have to come and help me so much but you’ve always been there to make me stop Freaking Out and laugh and i just, love you. yeah that’s what it is. I LOVE YOU I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU, WONG YUKHE-“

he cuts you off by snatching your face in his big warm hands and kissing you right on the lips

he then kisses your nose and your forehead and pulls you back into his lap to tuck you under his chin

“it’s all for you, angel ;)))) i love you more”

[poojajain]

All you need to know about Crystals

Have you ever came across different colored stones?

I still remember, when I was small I use to see many colored stones and used to wonder why it’s different, how a stone can be so attractive? Have you ever wondered or do you know a stone look alike or different can be a crystal ! Yes Crystals, which has its own unique properties based on its formation and if it is properly cleansed, energized and programmed, then it can help the person carrying it, sometimes it can even create a miracle in one’s life.

Wow isn’t, you might be wondering how a stone can be crystals. if it’s really a crystal, then you would have come across many such crystals and have missed the opportunity of knowing them and having them as your friend. But this is what the fact is, due to lack of adequate knowledge, many a times mistaking crystals with ordinary stones….we threw it believing it’s of no use. Say for an instance, in life you might have come across such stones where you felt you are automatically drawn to it or you would have felt some kind of sensation or tingling feeling with it.

Do you even realize what was that?

First let’s see How Crystals are formed and where do they come from? Though there are different opinion about it, I have written what I feel most close to it. Crystals are natural formations found beneath the war, the crust or water beds or formed out of a volcanic eruption.

Just like you are conceived by joining more than one substance, the sperm and the egg, so are crystals formed by conceiving or by joining one or more substances and thus their unique healing properties differ based on their formations.

You grow in your mothers womb, crystals grow in mother Earth’s womb … however unlike us, crystals have taken several hundreds, thousands to a few million years to form and grow. All these amazing Rock Friends of the mineral kingdom have survived natural and man made disasters, thrown at them ; some clear and some colorful yet each friend is unique by their healing properties. Soothing and Reflecting Pure energy in everyone of us..

Let’s understand this in more easy terms..

Thousands of years ago humankind began mining rocks buried deep within the earth’s crust. Some of these rocks were used to build sacred monuments, such as the Great Pyramids in Egypt. Others ‘re seen to be more precious — perhaps they were beautifully coloured, such as orange carnelian or perhaps they offered the magic of solidified light such as clear quartz. Soon the ancient began mining the rocks to make talisman and amulets — protective artefacts and jewellery that might be owned or woken to ward off evil spirits, bring luck, strength, prosperity or wealth or even to ensure a safe passage into the afterlife. We have no way of knowing whether or not ancient peoples had knowledge of the health regarding healing properties of crystals, but now — several thousands years on — we know from endless accounts of effective treatments that crystals have a remarkable power to grow body, mind and spirit.

Scientifically crystals have specific geometric structures. They serve a multitude of purposes, mainly for industrial use. However they date back to prehistoric information where they have been used by the kings as jewels and rituals, specifically for healing wounds to the extent of using them as minerals to make medicines. If u look closely at the composition of a particular tablet in medicine…. most chemicals are drawn from earth, studied and used for medicinal purposes. The fact here is crystals have much associated properties to heal.

Let’s make it easy to understand. What is the reason we wear semi-precious stones recommended by astrologers? Or what is the reason we adorn the deity with specific jewels? Especially with those patterns for every part of the body?

Have you thought about it????

What happens when we wear gemstones recommended by the astrologer. Gemstones are nothing but polished form of raw crystals and crystals in other words are nothing but stones formed by different composition of minerals. Based on its composition of minerals it serves for Various purposes. So when a astrologer recommends a gemstone we wear it with faith and many a times faith is what heals the particular situation in one’s life. Astrologer suggest gemstones based on their healing properties which resonates with our current situation. And when we carry that stone with us, the properties of that stone balances the vibrational energy which we are lacking. Thus neutralizing the effect of being nil and we start seeing the changes in here and now. Is’n it amazing to understand about this beautiful mineral kingdom. To explore more about Crystals and how to use it in different ways in which you can harness their power to optimize your wellbeing, including how to use them to re-balance chakras — spinning wheels of energy that lie within us stay tuned for our next journal / connect with us today.

[sandpapersnowman]

another way to break the ordinary, it's all a blur as far as I can see

the other secret santa thing for @itsclydebitches​!!! i think i like the star wars one more tbeh But hopefully she likes this as well <3 <3 <3 i Love U

ao3 link | cassidy and jesse drive a few hours away from annville to go rock climbing. cassidy is acting weird about it. jesse finds out why

They’re watching some hyper-censored version of a movie on TV when Cassidy asks,

“Do you like rock climbing?”

His back is to Jesse, leaning on him while his legs take up the rest of the couch, but Jesse can practically see him grinning through the back of his head.

“Like, on mountains?”

“Nah, ‘s bloody dangerous. Y’never seen 127 Hours? James Franco? Fuck that.” He makes a tired gesture with his hand. “Indoors.”

“Don’t know,” Jesse says. “Never done it.”

Cassidy nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

Almost five minutes later, on a commercial break, Jesse looks at him again and finally asks, “Why?”

Cassidy shrugs against his side.

“We should go rock climbing.”

Jesse snorts and looks back at the TV.

“I mean it,” Cassidy says. “I already looked a place up and everything, actually.”

“You’re serious?”

Cassidy sits up from against him and turns toward him.

“Yeah. Came into some money, thought it’d be fun.”

Jesse squints at him.

“You came into some money,” he drones, not believing for a second it isn’t stolen or hustled.

“Mmhmm,” Cassidy hums, “In a very legal way.”

It’s a lie, but it’s one of those lies where Jesse probably doesn’t want to know what he actually did, so he just… Doesn’t ask.

They’d asked Tulip if they should get a ticket for her too (God knows Cassidy would love to see her sweaty, stretching her legs, determination set in her face), but between her suspicions about the sudden trip and her genuine disinterest in climbing plastic, she declines.

“Just you ‘n’ me Padre, huh?”

Jesse kind of wishes he kept a newspaper around. Just… Rolled up. To swat Cassidy with once in a while.

“Looks like it.”

Cassidy confirms the address of the nearest place, a solid three hours away, but he doesn’t seem discouraged by Google Maps’ numbers.

Which makes sense, he guesses. What’s three hours to a 120 year old vampire?

The trip sucks. That far away, it doesn’t make sense to drive out, climb rocks, and then drive back in the same day, so they get a motel room for the night they get there and the night after. Drive out, sleep, climb rocks, sleep, drive back.

Cassidy spends the whole three hours under a blanket, alternating violently and unpredictably between complaining about the sun and heat and gushing about how long it’s been since he rock climbed, and how fun it is, and how much fun Jesse’s going to have.

He really doubts it, because it doesn’t sound like too much fun at all, but the way Cassidy talks about it makes him feel guilty for being uninterested. He’s still going to try, but he just can’t imagine he’ll enjoy it.

He’s not going to burst his bubble yet, though. It’s a smiley goddamn bubble.

Cassidy makes a few jokes as they approach the motel in town that he’s not against sharing a bed if it’s necessary, but Jesse will have to at least buy him dinner first. (Jesse gives him a dry, sarcastic “Ha, ha” and reminds him that with the exception of the tickets themselves, he is buying everything else on this trip anyway. It shuts Cassidy up for a little. Never long enough, though.)

The motel room has two beds, thankfully. Jesse grins as he opens the door fully for Cassidy to come in too, and it makes him throw his arms up and scoff, and sarcastically ask, “Well, now how am I going to get you into my bed? Bullshit.”

He throws his backpack at the bed furthest from the door (and furthest from the windows along the same wall) and goes to secure the curtains while Jesse heads into the bathroom to piss.

He’ll never enjoy Cassidy continuing conversation through a bathroom door, but he’s gotten used to it.

“You excited?”

“Sure,” Jesse lies. He’s not, but he’s glad Cassidy’s going to have fun. “How hard can it be?”

Cassidy laughs on the other side of the door.

“Dunno. You flexible?”

Jesse flushes the toilet, washes his hands, and lets Cassidy stumble when he opens the door he’s leaning on.

“You need to be flexible to climb a wall that’s meant for climbing?” he asks skeptically.

Once he’s righted himself and stepped to the toilet too, pissing without bothering closing the door, he answers from inside the bathroom.

“To some extent, sure.”

Jesse pulls his bible out of his own backpack and sets it on the nightstand.

“Don’t know how well I’ll do, then.”

The toilet flushes again and, once he comes out and gets a glare from Jesse, Cassidy washes his hands too.

“I can help you limber up before we start tomorrow.”

Jesse grins back at him, because ha, yes, innuendo, but despite the raised eyebrows, Cassidy does actually look excited to rock climb.

“I’m sure you can,” he says, rather than asking why it’s so fun or how someone like him has such a normal hobby or why he’s so fucking excited about it. He doesn’t even get this excited about drugs or alcohol or when Tulip changes clothes in the same room as them.

Despite his skinny, sickly-looking frame and his obnoxious grin, the athletic shorts and loose shirt on him actually make him look like someone that works out. Jesse doesn’t know how, because they’re wearing the same outfit, both from the same shitty little clothing store they found on the way out there, and Jesse still just looks like kind of a redneck.

“It’s not that awful,” Cassidy tries. “Plenty of people don’t look good in work-out clothes. I think you still look fine.”

“We’re wearing the same clothes,” Jesse hoots, voice crack and all. “I look like a… I look like someone’s dad.”

Cassidy just laughs.

Okay. Jesse can confess it would be fun to get to the top.

If he could get to the top.

“C’mon!” Cassidy yells, his own personal cheerleader. “Get your right foot up a little farther, you can get it!”

He’d yell at him to stop acting like an asshole, because he knows the whole place must be staring, but something about Cassidy truly trying to help him keeps his mouth shut.

Sure enough, if he can get his foot up just a little more, there’s a ‘rock’ about the size of a pebble, but Cassidy can’t mean that one. There’s no way in hell he can get a foothold on it.

He tests it anyway, and Cassidy gives him another “Fuck, yeah! Go, Jesse!”. They’re absolutely going to be banned from this place, he knows it. He can already see someone official-looking heading their way, glaring at Cassidy and glancing suspiciously up at Jesse.

Trying to smile apologetically at the official-looking guy breaks his concentration enough that he slips, and finds himself falling just-barely-slower-than-he-should back to the ground.

“Shit,” he mutters.

Cassidy claps his hand on his back anyway, grin wide as ever.

“You’ve really never done that before? Could have fuckin’ fooled me.”

“Whoa,” the man says, in a tone intended to shush them. “I’m sorry, but we don’t allow that kind of profanity here.”

The cliché ’this is a family-friendly environment’ lingers unsaid. Jesse’s about to apologize and assure him they won’t swear any more, but Cassidy snorts.

“Piss off,” he says. “‘S not even any kids here, just teenagers and people our age.”

Jesse bites back a smile at ‘our age’, like Jesse’s mid-30s can compare to Cassidy’s minimum of a century and a quarter. The official man doesn’t seem to find humor in any of it, though.

“Okay, well, I’ll need to ask you to leave.”

Regret pulls Cassidy’s grin down, realizing he was serious and probably shouldn’t have told this guy to piss off.

“Hey,” Jesse says quickly, “Could I speak to you privately?”

The guy looks suspicious, but allows Jesse to lead him a few feet away.

“Let him climb,” Jesse whispers. It’s an abuse of his power, but they drove three hours out to do this. Cassidy went out of his way to pay for their hour here. Cassidy’s right, there aren’t even young kids here, just teenagers and adults; he’s not letting some uptight guy in khakis ruin Cassidy’s day.

The man’s demeanor changes, and while he still looks annoyed, he sighs.

“Fine, but tell him to watch the swearing.”

Jesse nods.

“Of course.”

Cassidy is beaming.

There’s not even anything attractive about someone climbing a steep wall, knee shoved in his armpit and skinny arm stretching for another grip, but here Jesse is, feeling a little too warm watching Cassidy get higher and higher up.

It’s impressive, sure, and he sure as hell couldn’t do it, but why can’t...

He swallows. His throat feels too dry.

Why can’t he stop staring at him? His awful pale thighs, even more exposed with his shorts riding up, and his back arching while he tries to keep his center of gravity close to the wall. He looks like he’s in his element, and it’s weird; who knew ‘his element’ was, like, 30 feet up a plastic wall?

Cassidy’s reached the top while Jesse’s been daydreaming, and the harness lets him jump off the top and fall safely down. He’s grinning like it’s Christmas, and his birthday, and he just won the lottery.

He must see the look on Jesse’s face, because his grin splits so he can laugh.

“I know,” he says. “I’m pretty good.”

Jesse laughs along while he desperately wills his skin to cool down.

“Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “Next wall?”

Cassidy is already heading for it when he nods, and fuck if that isn’t cute, too.

Maybe the Texas heat has finally gotten to him.

Once they’re back in their hotel room, Cassidy peels off his shirt and stretches long and high.

Jesse could murder him.

”Oh, fuck, Jesse,” he groans. It’s hard to be so smug when Jesse’s got him on his toes trying to put it off, trying to soothe the heat in his groin before he cums just from Jesse’s cock in him.

He makes another desperate noise against the wall, and Jesse has to let go of one of his hips to keep Cassidy’s hand away from himself.

“Please, Jess,” he squeaks, but lets him pin his hand beside his shoulder again. Cassidy grabs onto a hold on the wall to keep his hand busy.

Right. They’re at the… The rock gym. That’s a weird place to have sex.

They shouldn’t be doing this there, but it’s okay, somehow. Something in the back of his mind tells him he doesn’t need to worry, just needs to focus on Cassidy and enjoy this.

He feels bad denying something Cassidy so desperately wants, so he slides a hand down Cassidy’s front and starts stroking his cock.

“Preacher,” he purrs.

He doesn’t sound nearly as desperate as he should, especially not when Jesse’s finally got his hand on him.

“What’re you dreaming about, Jess?”

Dreaming?

He’s very suddenly righted into reality. Horizontal, on something soft, covered by something soft. Bed? Hotel. The trip.

Shit. Cassidy.

He sits up as quickly as he can, the world still not quite aligned with where his brain thinks it’s supposed to be.

He can hear Cassidy laughing over the blood pounding in his ears, but only barely. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, head turned toward him. Can definitely see Jesse’s dick under the blanket.

“Well,” Cassidy huffs, “Having some nice dreams?”

“Sorry,” is Jesse’s first instinct, for some reason. “I… Sorry.”

Cassidy laughs again, pleased with himself for waking up Jesse so flustered.

“No, no,” he says, “it’s fine. It’s great. Who was the lucky lady?”

Jesse tries to pull the blankets up so they’re bunched over his lap and his erection isn’t quite as obvious, but with Cassidy sitting on them, all he can manage is downgrading the view from Nearly Full Exposure to Definitely A Dick, But A Vague One.

“No one,” Jesse says. His voice sounds so rough.

“C’mon, Jess!” Cassidy readjusts himself so he’s sitting completely facing Jesse, and closer. “You woke me up with all that racket, the least you can do is humor me.”

Fuck, what racket? Was he talking in his sleep? He might actually prefer that to the thought that him grunting and gasping was loud enough to wake someone up.

“Sorry, I’ll -- I’ll try not to -- I won’t,” he stutters.

“Jess,” Cassidy pleads, and he tries so hard not to think about how different the context of him begging was just moments ago. “I won’t tell.”

Cassidy’s hand settles over his knee through the blanket, and Jesse watches him inch it up.

“I promise,” Cassidy says, softer, and suspiciously close to his face now.

“What are you doing?” Jesse asks.

That’s it.

Cassidy leans back and throws his arms up with a scoff and a “Jesus, Mary, and goddamn Joseph” before he puts his whole face in his hands.

“I’ve been trying to fuck you this whole trip, Jesse.” He sighs, breath heavy with frustration and something like defeat. “You do not pick up on innuendo well, has anyone ever told you that?”

Jesse wheezes, which is close enough to a laugh for now. He’s always picked up on it fine from Tulip. Maybe Cassidy’s just bad at innuendo.

“And Tulip, she told me you’d miss every damn line,” he continues, dropping his hands, “but I thought, ’no, I have more faith in him than that. He’ll realize something’s up when I start talking about sharing the bed’. You’re making me look bad, padre.”

Okay, or she’s a traitor.

“Tulip?”

He can still barely speak, from sleep and embarrassment and Cassidy’s desperate voice still echoing in his ears, but Cassidy gets what he’s asking.

“Well, I’m obviously not gonna try to fuck you without her permission,” he states. Matter of fact. Casual. Like he didn’t just put those words together, and imply that Tulip knew Cassidy brought him out here with the intent of… That.

God. Of course she knew, actually.

“Fuck,” Jesse groans.

“Yeah, y’know. Bang. Bump uglies.”

Jesse tries to swat at him, but Cassidy dodges it.

“No, I meant -- stop it.”

“I’m just making sure!” Cassidy laughs, absolutely not ‘making sure’. “Just clarifying you know what I mean. A little game of ‘hide the sausage’. Y’know, givin’ me the bone.”

Jesse wants to laugh too and swat him again, but Cassidy’s referred to himself getting the bone. Like his dream.

(Jesse hates himself for having to think those words.)

“Christ, Cass,” he sighs.

This is… A lot. It’s a lot to take in, and a lot to think about. How long has this been going on? How long has Cassidy felt like this? Or, wait, felt like what? Maybe he’s overthinking, and Cassidy just wants to put ’has fucked a preacher’ in his diary. Maybe that’s it.

“Is…” Jesse swallows. How do you ask someone you were just thinking about fucking if he like-likes you? “Are you --”

He doesn’t know how to ask it, actually, so he covers his face with his hands again and groans.

“Spit it out, Jess,” Cassidy prods. “I’ll keep on with the slang if you don’t.”

Jesse does laugh then, just once into his palms, before he drags his hands just far enough down his face to look at Cassidy again.

“Why?” is what Jesse decides on.

Cassidy throws his hands up again, in lieu of a shrug now rather than in frustration.

“You’re already my friend. You’re hot. Like, really hot, even when you’re not in your preachin’ get-up -- which, let me tell you, does it for me.”

He’s still joking around to avoid the very serious matter of Apparently My Best Friend Is Into me, and Jesse sighs.

“So… You like me?”

Cassidy snorts.

“Jesus, Jess, of course. I --”

He stops himself, with the same face he makes when he’s trying not to say something too sappy around Tulip, and that’s more telling than anything he could have said.

“Christ, Cass,” Jesse says again. So he… What? He loves him?

“Jesse, if you’re not into me like that, that’s fine,” Cassidy mutters. “I don’t have any expectation of that from you, I just…” He sighs.

Jesse realizes, for the first time, just how young Cassidy can look. He looks like every teenager in Annville confessing their crushes to him on Sunday after his sermon, a very specific balance of nerves and hopes and low self-esteem.

“I just wanted you to know,” Cassidy continues, with That Face.

Jesse still hasn’t said anything.

He’d never considered it, really. He’s a professional at bottling up his feelings, and he vaguely remembers snuffing something out when Cassidy had turned up at his church.

But…

He can’t imagine they’ll be in Annville much longer. Things are too chaotic there, too on the brink of implosion, and there’s too much unfinished business Tulip needs to get back to. At this point, he can’t imagine he’d let her leave town without him, or that Cassidy wouldn’t join them.

He could let himself have this. He’s already let himself have Tulip. She’s apparently already given Jesse her blessing to have this too.

Why not?

“Okay, I’ll take the silence as you saying, ‘Noted, Cassidy! Please leave me alone now,’ and that’s fine. I’ll go.”

“Cassidy,” he whispers, not sure how to say the same for himself, either. It makes sense. He loves Cassidy like a friend -- what’s a relationship if not friendship with romantic and sexual feelings attached? The sexual feelings he’s already identified, but the romantic feelings…

...Well. They’ve been here all along, really. He’s never been great at discerning those either.

“No, really, Jess. It’s okay.” He doesn’t sound thrilled with it, but understanding. It’s reassuring to know Cassidy really did just want to clear his own air.

Isn’t he in for a treat, then.

“Me too,” Jesse says. He doesn’t know what words to choose, if he should say ‘like’ and sound like a middle schooler or use ‘love’ and sound like that middle schooler, so he just… Says that. Me too.

Cassidy looks suspicious at best and offended at worst.

“What do you mean, ‘me too’?”

He sits back down on the bed since he’s no longer leaving the hotel room, and that’s all the opportunity Jesse needs to grab him by the back of his neck and kiss him.

There’s a wet noise as Cassidy pulls back for a split second, just long enough to sigh a surprised, ”oh, fuck”, and then Jesse is yanking him back again.

He’s kicking himself on the inside for not realizing what was happening sooner. It seems so obvious now, even considering how flirty and crude Cassidy is with everyone. And he’s kicking himself worse for not realizing how he felt sooner -- he’s not surprised he missed it, considering the effort he puts into suppressing everything he possibly can, but there’s still a subconscious guilt that Cassidy thought the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Cassidy pulls away again; he doesn’t usually need as much air as he does, but Jesse supposes only one of them has been waiting for this moment for God-only-knows-how-long.

He glances down at Jesse’s lap while he’s catching his breath.

“Are you sure this isn’t just that talking?” he asks.

Jesse laughs quietly against his mouth.

“I’m pretty sure.”

His other hand takes the moment to slip up Cassidy’s shirt, up the freezing skin of his side. Cassidy shivers and leans into it.

“You absolutely sure?”

He’s trying to pass it off lightheartedly, but Jesse can hear what he means; this isn’t a joke? This isn’t using me? This isn’t going to be taken back as soon as you get off and don’t feel like humoring me anymore?

Jesse kisses him again. There’s a lot he should say to assure him right now, confessions and well-thought-out words and things that would let Cassidy know exactly how much he wants this, but he’d fumble over them if he tried to say them now.

“I’m positive, Cass,” he says instead. The shudder against his mouth tells him the blunt lick over Cassidy’s bottom lip is enough communication for now, and he’s accepting the telepathic I’ll tell you more later.

“Jess?” Cassidy sighs.

“Mm?”

Cassidy grins wickedly -- Jesse can’t see the grin, his eyes are still shut, but he knows it’s wicked, that one he always gets before saying something crude. He has the feeling he’s going to become much more fond of it soon. His hand returns to Jesse’s leg, too, much higher than it had been.

“You wanna tell me what you were dreaming about now?”

[dadvans]

TOP FIVE THINGS MASTERPOST (2/3)

Christophe Giacometti’s boyfriend proposes to him in the kiss and cry.  Yuuri is about to go on, is looking up at the big screen saying, “how embarrassing!  I would hate someone making such a public spectacle of a private moment.”  Victor spends Yuuri’s entire free skate canceling the series of ice dancers and crowd participants and camera guys he had hired for a very public proposal that it is NOT HAPPENING.

The entire restaurant erupts with applause when the table next to theirs announces their proposal, an engagement ring presented to a bride in a glass of champagne.  Yuuri says, “I can’t imagine such a tacky and cliched proposal.  Can you really not think of something more personal and romantic than what movies have shown you?”  When the waiter comes around with their ‘complimentary’ glasses of champagne, Victor double-fists them both, swallowing hard around a 10k diamond ring.  “I was very thirsty,” he says, signaling for another round, choking a little.  “So, so thirsty.”

Realizing how flawed his Public Display of Affection technique was, Victor decides to have a more private engagement.  He hides the ring on Makkachin’s harness and has a five-course dinner catered at home, courtesy of him not knowing how to make anything except for protein shakes and scrambled eggs on toast.  Except that’s the day that between Victor getting flowers and Victor picking up his new Soon-To-Be-Ravished Engagement suit, Yuuri takes Makkachin to the groomers and comes back excited to show off a clean-cut dog minus one engagement ring.  (“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the groomer says the next day, flashing a suspicious gold ring they were not wearing the day before with a flip of their hand.  “I didn’t find anything.”)

Yuuri meanwhile realizes what Victor’s game plan has been the entire time, and feeling awful, decides to ask for his hand in marriage in a public display of affection.  They’re seeing a hockey match as a family with Yurio, and Yuuri lets the event staff know ahead of time he would like to propose to Victor on the overhead screen.  The venue tries and fails—the kiss cam lands on Yuuri and Yurio when Victor is getting more drinks.  Yurio sees his moment and Goes For It ™.  

They don’t expect it to go like this: Yuuri on the couch getting a foot rub, face lolling to the side.  “Marry me,” he says, and he means nothing by it, but everything at the same time, and Victor kisses his big toe and says, “I do.”

It’s a home birth.  They’ve got fucking mood tapes made, they have candles, they have a pool in their living room, they have comforting smells.  Yuuri is ready.

Yuuri is NOT ready, but he pretends he is ready.  The comforting smells are not comforting and Victor opens all the windows and he is in so much pain and Yuuri really hates this??? But Victor Does Not Know.  All Victor knows it that Yuuri has a well-organized birthing kit, full of things like ziplock bags he’s written PLACENTA on in his neat, English handwriting, and a cheap shower curtain to line the bathing tub covered in orange and blue squids.  He calls the neighbors about the loud noises and when the baby doesn’t come, but the contractions are shitty, he lets Victor practically break his hand as they walk in circles around their small concrete backyard in New York.  

Yuuri calls the midwife and Yuuri makes green tea with brown rice and Yuuri sweeps the floor approximately twenty-nine times and Yuuri pours him glass after glass of water and sits with him on the edge of the bathtub while he tries and fails to pee and cuts him thin slices of watermelon and wipes his sweaty hair back and traces his fingers through Victor’s scalp.

Yuuri’s face is there.  It’s the only face Victor needs to see.  There’s a midwife and an apprentice and Makkachin (and waiting out in a car trying to manage his own panic attack, Yuri Plisetsky) there too, but as far as Victor’s world is concerned it’s Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri as he pushes and breathes and shifts and breathes and cries and breathes, and Yuuri is there, and he’s beautiful.

Yuuri is so good at positive reinforcement and telling Victor that he did a good job, even though they’re both crying, and he’s so good at holding the baby and looking at the baby and saying, “baby,” with vocal chords capable of making noise, and Yuuri is so good at being tender and wonderful and himself and pressing kisses to Victor’s sweaty temple and cutting the chord and laying next to him and saying, “way to go, papa, looks like we just won gold.”

When he had to tell Victor that Air Bud wasn’t a documentary

When he has to tell Victor that Ronald McDonald isn’t a real person, and definitely not a politician or someone who sacrificed his own life for America.  

No, he never took a giant robot to school.  No, that was—it’s just in a lot of cartoons, Victor.  Giant robots aren’t a thing in Japan.  No, we have a defense force, we do not have an army of giant robots.  

No, Victor, potato vodka is not a vegetable, please stop arguing with me, this is the seventh time.

Victor is devastated when they move to Venice Beach after retiring to find out that rollerblading and fishnet shirts are No Longer A Thing.  Also, that Pauly Shore is no longer relevant.  Victor watches Encino Man seven times that weekend and refuses to go outside.

MAN, i couldn’t answer this one, and i’ll tell you why: even though you wrote “’typically’ masculine,” it just suggests so much and so little.  this is a hard hunger to feed.  when i read this, it seems like someone wants to cement one identity as ‘more masculine’ and another as ‘more feminine’.  it also completely disregards that the idea of ‘masculinity’ is not constant through different cultures, and what ‘masculine’ in russia and ‘masculine’ in japan may not, and is not cohesive with the western idea of masculine.  i tried to answer this initially anyway, but it just made me too uncomfortable.  yuuri and victor are men, but they shouldn’t be regulated by that, and they also shouldn’t have to live out expectations beyond that.  i don’t feel comfortable defining that.  does that make sense?  i hope this doesn’t bum you out, but for multiple reasons, i couldn’t answer this one.

The entire sequence of Yuuri’s breakdown in the parking lot, his free skate, to the kiss in episode seven.  I love Georgi’s FS music when they’re recovering from seeing each other raw and walking toward the rink, I love Yuuri’s recognition of Victor as an imperfect human and imperfect coach, I love the monologue while he skates, I LOVE him attempting the quad flip for the first time.  The kiss was the first part I had seen of the anime, and it convinced me to watch the show, because I’m so tired of queerbating, but!! When i saw it within the series, the emotions that built up to it completely wrecked me.  I still get emotional watching it.

I have watched the airport scene from the end of episode 9 probably just as much as I’ve watched the kiss.  The way Victor says, “it would be nice if you never retired.”  Fucks me up!!! Just fucks me up.

Any second that Christophe Giacometti is on screen.  I love him.  I love him so much.  

The entire first nine episodes with the new eyes of the episode ten reveal. Coupled with the last ten seconds of episode ten.  “BEEEEE MAAAAAAI COOOOOOCHI”

The fucking pairs skate, fucking end me, jesus fucking christ.  

HONORABLE MENTIONS: when they hug during the flashback over Yuuri getting that 4F score, when they kiss rings, touch hands, touch each other, whenever Victor gets in Yuuri’s space that no one else is allowed to occupy but Victor can with ease, the aggressive hugging sequence in episode nine, just like, the entire fucking series, leave me alone.

Yuri doesn’t give a shovel talk, but he does suggest he and Yuuri kill Victor with a shovel so they can be together forever.

Yakov wants to tell Yuuri to be good to Vitya, but after the incident at the Rostelecom Cup, he realizes that Victor probably needs the shovel talk a lot more than Yuuri.  Yuuri doesn’t skate past Yakov’s criticisms sing-songing “I can’t he-e-a-a-r y-o-o-o-u,” and he doesn’t invite the entire st. petersburg philharmonic to compose from the stands while he works on his new routine, and in the end yakov’s shovel talk is more like, “if you ever need help burying his body, it would please me greatly to help.”

Georgi tries to give Yuuri the shovel talk, because Georgi understands Real Pain, and it’s what he would have wanted when his heart was broken, but then Yuuri looks away and grabs at the inside of his elbow shyly and says, “I heard what you went through with Anya, I can only imagine how that felt, so I understand—“ and Georgi is crying Yuuri suddenly and holding him.  

“I didn’t think he had a heart to break before he met you,” Mila admits as they watch Victor practicing his jumps.  He’s been able to add another half rotation to his triple axel, but his knees have been hurting him lately, and in turn it hurts to watch how determined he can be when he really wants something and has no way of hiding from it.  “But he does, even if he’s better at hiding how he feels about you than he does about his sport.  You break his heart, I break your legs.”

Victor’s always been Lilia’s favorite student from Yakov, and she’s always had a working rivalry with Minako, so any time Victor shows up in less than perfect form, when he and Yuuri aren’t looking at each other with the usual tenderness in the mornings, she sees no problem in pulling Yuuri aside and making him do hundreds on a reformer until he’s throwing up.  It’s more effective than any shovel talk.

[ecotone99]

[FN] The Old Soldier

This is a followup to something I posted on writingprompts here. Some comments wanted to hear more, and after tossing some ideas around, I wound up with this. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It didn't take much digging to learn that the woman I'd met, apparently named Diressa, was in fact a proper Helsing. Seven generations back on her mother's side was a straight bloodline to the man, the myth, the legend himself. It had been almost a week since she'd been here with her strange entourage. I hadn't heard anything since they left, and honestly could have forgotten them completely. That is, until a Praetor walked through my doors. One of the boys in black, as she'd put it. I knew it was a term I'd be stuck with for life.

There wasn't any definitive thing identifying him. He wasn't wearing his armor, the sword at his hip looked fairly plain, at least from its hilt, and most importantly, he wasn't being a loud obnoxious prick. He did have an unmistakable air around him though, he carried himself as if the weight of his responsibilities was on his shoulders in that moment.

I questioned the time of his arrival. It was early. Most other Praetors should still be patrolling, training, or hassling good hard working folks.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" His voice was low, and quiet.

"Hmm? No, sorry, lost in thought for a moment. How long have you been enlisted?" I chastised myself immediately. The first question should always be about what the customer wants.

"Hah, a long time. Long enough that I remember the Praetor title actually meaning something." I hadn't really noticed at first, but when he said that I became aware of what he looked like. He was clearly an elf. Pale skin and light hair betraying his southern lineage. His eyes were dark however, and his ears lacked the elves' telltale point, meaning he had at least one ancestor from a lesser tribe, and a human had made its way into the mix. "Am I that much of a giveaway?"

"Somewhat. I don't get many soldiers in here, so when one of you does show up, you tend to stand out."

"Mind if I ask why? The drinks don't suck do they?"

"I'd certainly hope not. I'm sure it has more to do with the rest of my clientele." He rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder, my eyes following his. I was notably busy considering the time, and the fact that it was midweek. A moment later he was looking back at me and shrugging his shoulders.

"Couldn't care less, long as they obey the laws and pay their taxes, they can eat and drink where they want."

"You're a refreshingly rare breed sir, what can I get you?"

"First off, you can cut the sir shit. I'm just another grunt like any of them right now." I nodded my agreement. "After that, something strong."

"How strong?"

"Got anything that can take the legs of this stool out from under me?"

"More than a couple."

"Any of them actually taste like anything? I want to get drunk but I do want to enjoy myself at the same time."

"I've got just the thing. Whiskey, it's gnomish, aged for decades in casks made of cherry wood-" He held his hand up to stop me.

"No disrespect, but I've never cared to know about alcohol. Save for the two rules my pa passed to me."

"And those would be?"

"There's two surefire ways to know a drink is good. First, there's one man at a bar getting absolutely shattered, and he's only drinking one thing." Instantly, a few of my regulars ran through my mind. "That, or the barkeep starts talking about it before he's even grabbed the bottle."

"Sounds like your old man made his rounds."

"That's a much nicer way to put it than I would."

"I need to warn you," I uncorked a bottle and started pouring into a glass. His eyebrows raised and a small grin crept across his face. "There is a small amount of Heris root in this."

"When I enlisted, they trained us against poisons with a small amount of Heris root too. I spent most of a week doubled over praying to the gods for death."

"Fair enough. Then, there's the tiniest possible amount in this. It numbs your tongue just long enough for the drink to fill your mouth, then the flavour hits you all at once."

"Sounds impressive, leave it to gnomes to treat a simple bottle of booze like one of their spells." He took the glass and tipped it back over his lips. He held the liquid in his mouth for a moment, clearly waiting for the reaction I told him about. A wave of surprise washed over his face as he swallowed. He turned the glass in his hand, and glanced over at the bottle. "I'll be damned. That is much more pleasant going down than I expected."

"I've, got a question for you, if you don't mind."

"Doesn't everyone these days?" He took another sip, and I was sure my curiosity wouldn't be sated. "However, I am sitting at your bar, and drinking your, admittedly delicious whiskey, so I think it would be fair to humour you at least a little."

"You mentioned a time when being a Praetor meant something, what did you mean?"

"Ah, a real question then." He finished off his glass and motioned for a refill, which I obliged. "Do you know where the word Praetor comes from?" I shook my head no. "An orcish word Prenetora."

"Sounds more druidic to me."

"That's what I said when my instructor told me. There's a strong chance that the cultures influenced each other, especially so far back." Another sip as he rolled his wrist, releasing a few cracks from the joint. "It means, loosely anyway, stalwart. It was a title given to their warriors, the men who fought, believing they would die for their clan. When the continents were unifying, the realm wanted that reputation, that inherent trust in the ones who'd be enforcing order. Several titles were up for consideration, but Praetor just sounds so damn good."

"What happened?"

"A lot." He took a deep sigh and rubbed at his eye. "When it all started, people trusted us. We made sure they had reason to. Things went wrong, we were there. Things were good, we made sure they stayed that way. Everything we did was rooted in benefiting those who couldn't fight for themselves. In turn, those people knew, they believed without doubt that whatever we did was for their best interests. Even if that included executing seven people in cold blood, in the middle of a town square, or burning down acres of crops, or..." I could see on his face the doubt he had to tell me any more. "Blowing up an entire mountain range."

"How? What? When?"

"Decades ago. There was a nomadic group of hobgoblins. Nothing special, they were a small tribe, moving their way across the western isles, stealing and hiding from civilised folk. They made camp in a mountain cave, but quickly left when they discovered a rancid odour. Some time later, they encountered some goblins playing with fire, as they're prone to do. From those goblins' bombs they smelled the same stench. The bombs in particular left a liquid flame, even on stone. Hobgoblins are smart. Disturbingly so. They showed the goblins back to the mountains. The goblins found pockets of gas to make more of their strongest explosives from."

"I can see where this is going."

"After an attack that left a village reduced to ashes, we tracked them back to the caves and ran them out. Our scholars recognised the gas, and knew it wasn't isolated in the mountains. We knew we couldn't police all that land, and we knew we couldn't leave it for more of that fire to be harnessed. It was a hard choice to make. Those mountains were industry. Mines, quarries, livelihoods. Our betters believed the danger outweighed the benefits. A months long evacuation. A few well placed bombs of our own, and in moments we removed mountains the gods likely spent years crafting." He emptied the glass for the second time and pushed it away. "The people knew. They saw that liquid fire. Saw it burn their homes, kill their friends and family. They didn't like it, but they agreed with us, supported us. Then, then the problems came. The new generation of Praetors, boys and girls dreaming of donning the same black armor as their heroes. They kept having those dreams, but now, those dreams included the wild things we had done, things we didn't want to do, things that they did. They do. Now, it's almost like they're competing. Who can be the most outlandish Praetor in the realm?"

"Sorry to make you dredge that up."

"Don't be, it's history. As long as these new upstarts want to mimic, or even outmatch it, I feel like the rest of us should try to learn from it."

submitted by /u/writerunblocked [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2XYBwNt

[tellytantra]

Hows this possible..nothing seemed familiar..where was she..it didnt seemed like jindal bhavan..this was nit her home..which she left one month back. Her mind was racing with innumerable questions right now..it was one week since she had returned jindal bhawan but the scenario..was totally heart wrenching. Everyone assumed her to be dead..becoz her foot slipped and she fell off..it was enough to give her another shock..No! She didnt fell becoz her foot slipped..she fell becoz of... Jindal bhavan was loosing its charm..its grace..what happened in past one month..that everybody seemed to dull..bahus seemed hopeless..dadi was not at all bubbly..she looked pale. But aj..it seemed that in this whole one month..he suffered the most.. He couldnt cook well..his room was a perfect mess..he looked..gloomy..his clothing was change..so was his wardrobe..he never wear 3 piece siuts..but simple shirt and pants..watches were no more a part of his wrist..he now dont wears specs but sunglasses. Yes!! He was back to his angry mode with all the haughtiness and pride but most shocking of all was..he behaved cold with her..soo cold..that she couldnt even think..she should be the one to show anger..hurt..but here he was doing it. What was the reason she still did not knew. Since one week she just investigating about what happened in the house but no one helped her. She was totally clueless about the condition of the house and him.  Did akshat had such a deep effect of the shot that he was giving himself punishment by living a robotic life..with anger..deppression..hurt..and nithing except dark..if this was the reason..then why did he shot her?? She really need to find..with that she closed her diary..and got up to sleep on the coutch.he was already sleeping on bed. They didnt shared bed..coz of him. She closed her eyes ..... And suddenly opened..and smiled in guddanpana.. "Jindal saab..ab aap dekhiye..ye guddan aapse kaise sach niklwati h..ab aap guddan ka naya roop dekhne k liye tyaar ho jayiye.." With that she just tip toed out of the room and called someone and smiled. "Be ready jindal saab" ...next morning he woke up only to find guddan out of room..as she was not in room..bathroom..so she woke up early..now that was new. He came downstairs only to find her on dining table..but it what he saw next was enough to shake his world. Guddan getting up from the dining table and hugging a smart man..with well build body. He had never seen him. She was hugging a man..and that man pulled her more closer and twirled her around while hugging her. They separated from the hug and guddan planted a kiss on his cheek and man kissed her hand. That was enough for him to burn. "Arey waah vikky..tum idhar" "Haan gudiya" She then turns to dadi and says.. "Dadi ye hai Acp vikrant singhal..mere best friend..aur hum inko PYAAR se vikky bulate h.." She said while royally ignoring him and stressed the word pyaar. If she had looked into his eyes she would never make a mistake to kiss or hug him. "Arey waah sasu maa..kafi ghri dosti h aap dono ki"said lakshmi. He was going to say something when guddan just dragged him to their room. Everyone leaves for their work but there was one man who just stood there in mood of killing someone.  He followed her and stopped in front of the door to hear up their chat. "Acha to gudiya..tum yaha..aur akshat jindal ko divorce kb de rhi ho??" What divorce..never in his scariest dreams he had thought of this. This was horrible than anything. This jusf increased his anger to loads.he was going to enter when he hears guddan. "..humne wakil saab se baat ki thi..unhone kaha h ki 2 ghnte tk papers ready ho jaenge..tum humare saath chlne papers lene"  This was enough he forwarded his step to crush this idea ..when.. "Thik h..but gudiya tum ek baar fir soch lo..vo pyaar h tumhara..is ek mahine mei..ek bhi din aisa nahi tha tumne ussko yaad nhi kia ho.." "Pta h vicky..but agar vo khud hi humko apni patni nhi maante..vhi the jinhone hum par goli chalayi..pr kyu..ye bi nhi btate..to hum kya kre..hum thak chuke h..iss rishte se.." Gosh! This was enough..for him to move back . He moved back wore his sunglasses..to hide his tears and made his straight way to car. All the way to office he just made his mind to give her divorce. Meanwhile.. "Kyaa baat h vicky..kya acting ki h tumne.." "Haan ab tumhara bhai hu aise hi karunga.." "Haan vo to h..aur vaise tumne pta kaise lga ki vo aa rhe h?" "Tum shayd bhul gai mai acp hu.." "Haan vo to h...bs ab aagey ka plan yaad rkhna" "Haan" Okay so this was her plan. ....... He came back late night only to find everyone sleeping . He headed towards thoer room with hope to find guddan sleepnig but here was was laughing with her ..and what was vicky doing this hour of time with her? "Kya h..iss vicky ko..ek to subah bhi iske aate hi muje bhul gai..na hi koi call..aaj pura din restau mei maine guddan ki call ka w8 kia...muje phle hi smajh jana chahiye tha ..ki kyo call nhi aya..aisa koi bhi din nhi gya iss ek hfte mei iska call nhi aya ho..aur aaj ek hi din hua h is vicky ko aye..abi batata hu..isko" With that he stepped inside the room onky to get yet another shock..he was sitting her side hugging her and she was putting her head on his shoulder and laughing. She coughed so that they could see him..but only to get an ignire..so finally he said.."guddan"  "Haan..aj vo hum aur vicky..baate kr rhe the..she was going to say something when he cuts.. " Haan koi baat nhi"  "To aap na aaj dusre kmre mei so jayiye..kyoki muje abhi vicky se puri raat baate krni h..". His eyes popped out of the sockets hearing that..but he was not left with any option and moved.. ....well this cont. For a weak and thus providing him mini heart attacks..but..till that day.. He returned back in hope of finding guddan laughing with vikrant...but when he entered the room he didnt found anyone..he checked every possible room but in vain..when finally he came across poolside...earth skipped away under his feets..wgen he found guddan standing near pool in hot black coloured short dress..till her tigh.. And terrace beautifully decorated with a table for two..he aksed her..only to get an answer.. "Aaj humari date h..vikrant k saath." He clenched his fists in anger..and said.. "Tum vik k saath date pr nahi ja skti.." "Kyu..??" "Bss nhi kaha na.." His said millions of anger. "Hum to jaenge" Said sbe in oder to invite his anger to shower on her. So that he opens truth ti her.but when she found herself in his arms..and he heading towards his room..she said "Chodiye hume." "Nhi.."  "Jaane dijiye" He enetered the room..put her on the bed..amd went to cllse the door..he turned only to find her standing behind him.. "Kyu laaye h..hume yaha..aap to vaise hi hume apni patni nhi maante..hna..ek baar to maar bhi chuke h..to aaj ye gussa kyu..aaj ye possessiveness kyu mr akshat jindal???" With that she bursted on him. He pinned her to the wall bursted.. "Haan maine chaliye goli..haan tumhe goil lgi..pr ..pr..." And he stopped and turned his face.. "Ab sach nhi bola jaega aapse..u know y..coz u r a cheat mr. Aj..u just used me..and when u fulfilled hr need u threw me out of ur life like a trash. Aapka har lafz jhootha tha..aap jhuthe the..aapne to kbhi humse pyaar hi nhi kia..sirf hume jse kiya..aur jb man bhar gya.. "Nhi..bss chup ho jao..uss din maine goli nhi chaliye thi..timhe goli antara ne maari thi..aur maien antara ko..lekin uss din vo to mar gyi ayr tum bi..pr 2 din baad muje pta chla tum jinda ho..mai jaante hu sirf ki mai kitna khush tha..tum jbhi nhi jaan paogi..mera dard..jo maine saha..aur jo insan tumhari dekh bhal kr rhw the vo mere hi aadmi the..muje lga..ki ye soch kr tum mujse kbhi pyaar nhi kr paogi ki maine tumhe mara...aur vapis apne papa pass chli jaogi..pr nhi tum to tumho..aa gyi..but uss din tumhe dekh kr mai kitna khush tha ye sirf mai janta hu..tumhare jaane k baad to mai mar hi gya ths..tum nhi jaanti ..kiase tumhse dur rh rha hu..kyoki..kyoki..agar tum..mere saath rahogi to fir aisa hi hoga..firse tum pr musibat aayegi..tum for se..isliye tumhara aur mera dur rehna hi yhik hoga..aur..". .......(ADULT CONTENT)........ He was going to say something..when  he felt guddans lips on his..he knew he should move..but..his hands didnt listened to him..and instead found their way to her waist he gently grabbed her and put her legs across his waist and thus nibblinh her neck..and feeling her lips on his shoulders amd sat on the bed..with guddan on his laps..he started again  captured her lips..the kiss was sooo intense..that it almost made her out of breath..kiss was of assurance..kiss was of need..no dominance..just want..the kiss showed..how mu h the two souls misswd each other..they parted and zhe spoke huskily in his ears.."aap taakat h humari..aap jb tk humare saath h..hume kuch nhi ho skta..hum..app k bina adhure h...aaj ek baar fir hume pura kr dijiye" That was eniugh for him to grab her breast in his hands..and capture her neck with his lips..he bite harshly ..marking her.."you are mine..and tonight i will mark u again.."said he huskily..and descend towards her cleavage..and placed open mouthed kisses there. He then started unzipping her dress.. He kissed her shoulders gently bitting her fair skin leaving his marks on her as his hands unzipped her dress and gently pulled the dress down her body and leaving only her blue lingerie to cover her  body . He then started to kiss her cleavage along woth bitting her shoulders making her moan helplessly. His one hand gently grabbed her waist while the other one wildly pressed her one boob..massaging it..pinching the nipple through the only covering she had. He pit her off from her laps and placed her gently on tge bed and  She gasped holding his shirt soo tightly that his two buttons came off. Akshat grinned at her..and she unbuttoned hus remaining ones. While his hands made its way to her back and finally opened the clasp only to free her breasts from the only clothing. The sight if her fair round breasts and pink nipples watered his mouth. He licked his lips and slowly settled her back on the bed before grabbing her leggings and peeling it of her body. Now she was only left with her blue panties . He placed a sweet kiss on her lips and forehead before going down and attacjed her  round boobs . He took her one breast in his mouth and licked her pink nipples ..biting it..sucking it..alltge while she criss crossed her fingers of one hand in his and other hand in his hairs and demanding him not to stop.noy neing able to resist the passion she took her mouth and kissed him..she was harsh this time..he could feel her want if the way she was kissing was any proof. She then left his lips changed their position and came upon him and touched his six packs..in most sensous way..she ran her tiny hands from head to toe and placed her lips on his chest..bitinh it..nipping it..and what not..he yurned then around..and He then attacked her other breast doing the same until when the nipples turned red. Moving one finger down from her breast he touched the mark of bullet shot..that was enough to come off from her..he moved aside..guddan who had closed bsr eyes due to his torture opens her eyes only to see his eyes moist abd red..she sits on his lap and gelty kiss his forehead..again lies down.."akshat jo hua..hume bhul jana chahiye..aur ek nai shuruyat krni chaiye.."and hugged him. He just inhaled her breath and kissed her passionatley. She bist his lower lip...thus igniting him. He moved  south and dripped her panties apart and she arched fron the bed demanding him not to stop and give her what she wants. He inserted her mouth and started his torture.after an long time he got up and pulled his pants out along with the boxers. Guddan turned her gaze..making him chuckle.s he setted himself upon her and started his slow and soothing thrusts to not give her pain but she digged her nails asking him to move faster..this was what he did and he moved faster and marked her..she found herself again coming alive with each faster thrust and filling her each nerve with life. He then got down from her body  only to lay beside her..and cuddle her and sleep peacefully with a slight smile on their lips. The moon and stairs were the witness of the reunion of the two purest souls..whi had missed each other dearly and loved each other immensely.. ....... (SKIP TO ONE YEAR) (HOSPITAL) "Guddan ..guddan baby..take deep breaths..u will feel alright..kuch nhi hoga..tumhe" "Akshat aapki vajah se meri halat h..mai aapko kabhi maaf nhi krungi.." Cursed guddan while crying in pain.. "Haan..baad mei maar lena..pr abi gehri saanse lo.." And was taken to OT. the doctor came out.. "Doctor sb thik to hain na..guddan kaisi h?" "Sb thik h..guddan ji bhi thik h..and u are blessed with a girl.." This brought happy tears in his eyes..he rushed to the room where guddan and baby was . He enetered the room and find guddan handling the baby in pink towel. "Lijiye jindal saab..humari beti..dekhiye..kitni cute h.." "Haan to hogi hi..meri princess h..bilkul mere pr gyi h"he kissed her forhead and returned her  back to guddan. " Thank u" And with that he kissed guddans forehead..he parted when he heard a sound..its was jindal family..with vardaan with a camera..who had clicked the cutest pic of the little family... The end..... Viditian

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