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Hotter Than Hell: Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Pookie bear you know how to get me going >:)))

This is a little over 7k words :)

I have a problem

Contains: Aphrodisiac, vaginal licking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, choking, breeding kink, creampies, dirty talk, degrading kink, size difference, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, spanking, pregnancy kink

The lab was mostly empty.

That should’ve tipped him off that there was something dangerously wrong here. It’s never this easy, and yet, things just seemed too good to be true.

A cold steam puffed out from his lips as his steely blue eyes tactically scanned the room he had entered. Finger on the trigger of his assault rifle, shoulders wound tight like a spring, teeth grit and lungs left half-empty in case he suddenly had to fire; Chris was ready. This was all too grating for him, the quiet pulling at the back of his mind. Something was going to go horribly wrong and he knows it- Hell, the rest of Hound Wolf knows it too. He could see it in all of their eyes, keeping their sights on the shadows a little too long, guns never lowered, steps light.

It’s never this easy.

The lab had been half-explored at this point. It was some makeshift lab made up in some long forgotten military bunker in the barren arctic wastelands of northern Sweden bordering Norway. There was nothing around for miles, only hills of snow and the threat of polar predators hiding in the blanket of shimmering white.

The power has long been cut off, lightswitches lead to just continuous darkness and the breakers did nothing when flipped. The place was freezing, too. The cold bit through their military gear, clinging to their bones, dragging at them to slow down. It was already below zero outside, making the stone and metal innards that much more unbearable. At least the wind wasn’t present in here or else they would have to get the hell out; And that was the absolute last thing Chris wanted to do.

The Swedish flags had all been snatched off of the walls, replaced with banners and metal hangings of Neo-Umbrella all about the lab. A layer of dust had settled over everything, not even boot prints had disturbed the dust since it had gathered. That didn’t mean they couldn’t be on edge. There’s been plenty of times where a place looks to be abandoned but a B.O.W. or two is actually lurking around deep inside.

They all entered the next room, flashlights and the barrels of all of their guns sweeping and quickly clearing the room. There was more in here than the last; Notably, some folders were haphazardly scattered around with papers loose on the counters and floors. Lobo and Umber Eyes gathered them up when Tundra busied herself by looking at a nearby cabinet seemingly filled with something. There were three other doors aside from the one they had all filed in from.

As Chris was about to start digging through the mess left behind, a series of robotic beeps rang softly in his ear. Chris stalled for a second, exhaling before inhaling deeply and raising his hand to click at his earpiece.

“Den to Hound Wolf. Do you copy?” you spoke gently through the earpiece.

Your voice was always welcomed in his ears. Ever since he had met you when you were transferred from the BSAA to Hound Wolf, he felt a connection with you. Despite the fact that you barely had any training under your belt, your encounter stuck to him, clung on, the thought of you just anchored to his mind. You were just Hound Wolf’s field operations support just as Hunnigan was for Leon Kennedy, but Chris felt like there was something else there with you. He wanted to know what that was.

“Copy that, Den,” he spoke clearly. “Alpha here. Over.”

“Have you had any luck with searching the bunker?”

“Negative. We’re still in the trenches here.”

It ate at Chris that they hadn’t been able to find anything yet.

“Copy that. Radio in if you find something, Alpha. Den, out.”

The line cut off quickly. Chris wouldn’t admit it, but deep down, he was a little disappointed that your call ended so quickly. He also wouldn’t admit that he was starting to feel something for you. He denied it fully at first, attempting to snuff out the embers before it started a wildfire, but no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn’t happen. Every time he would see you around the base, in the meetings sitting pretty in front of him, heard you over the comms line- it drove him more and more insane. Despite acting a bit cold to you at first, you had taken a warm liking to the captain and greeted him with a sweet smile every day that made his stomach do flips.

Chris swallowed thickly and returned his free hand back to his assault rifle, squeezing the metal hard enough for his gloves to creak before he too joined in the search around the room.

“Any luck?” he asked the team over his shoulder.

He had walked over to a rusted-out desk in the corner and searched the few papers that lingered. The ink was mostly faded, but from what Chris could make out, it was about redesigning the DNA sequences in hunters. As if that’s what he really needs to worry about right now.

“Just a bunch of empty vials,” Tundra called out from the cabinet, her hands rummaging through the small glass tubes with no luck on her side.

“Everything is either too worn out or the ink is smeared,” Lobo scoffed as he handed Chris the papers.

Chris sighed through his nose, another puff of cold steam rising. He just shook his head and Lobo dropped the papers to the counter.

“We need to split up. We’re taking too long and the cold is settling in,” Chris ordered. “Canine, Lobo; Take the door on the left. Umber Eyes, Night Howl; The right.” He turned his attention to Tundra as she dropped the vials and closed the cabinet doors. “Tundra, you’re with me.”

The rest of his squad split as Tundra followed close behind on Chris’ heels. Chris pushed at the door, grunting as he found it jammed at its rusted hinges only to reel his foot back and kick the door in. He honestly didn’t care if there were B.O.W.s down here right now. He just wanted to get out of here as fast as he could before one of them came down with hypothermia. Luckily, this was one of the rare instances that the helicopter actually stayed closed, parked right out of the abandoned bunker sitting idly.

As Chris and Tundra trekked down the hall, they both focused in on their surroundings. There were less of them now, making them more susceptible to danger. One foot in front of the other, they went down the very narrow hallway, flashlights beaming right on the other end at the other door. Upon opening the door, they both found it to be mostly barren save for a few knocked over chairs and some empty bookshelves. The next few rooms were no different, holding no value to them as they continued on.

It all seemed like lost hope when they came upon a bigger door that was way more secure. It was heavy to move it, Chris grunting as he pushed against it.

Upon opening the door, they were greeted with what looked to be some testing chamber. A large L-shaped desk full of buttons and screens and levers sat before a large and very thick window. On the side of the room sat a very secured door leading into the room. Walking up to the window, Chris shined his flashlight in, squinting past the glare to see multiple floor-to-ceiling columns. He wiped the dust off of the window and peered in again, catching the glints of glass making up those columns before realizing that they were all inhabited. He was right; There were B.O.W.s here. The status of them all being alive or dead was up for debate, but considering they were all left suspended in what looked to be suspicious liquid, he’d safely assume they’re all dead. He could only make out a few of them, one of which being an odd looking hunter with longer limbs and a nastier head. He’d hate to go against that thing.

Tundra sifted through more of the papers found in the filing cabinets, each drawer opening and closing with loud screeches.

“Any luck?” Chris asked once again over his shoulder.

He was trying to make out what the others were as Tundra quickly looked through each paper.

“They all look to be intact!” she exhaled a sigh of relief.

Chris broke his gaze away from the chamber to see Tundra handing him a few thickly filled folders. Peering at the labels on the side, the last one caught his eye. “Genetic Bio-Insemination.” He didn’t like the sound of that.

He started with the first folder.which was only about the newly engineered hunters this lab had produced. According to what he was able to skim through, though, the experiments were all failures as they had all mostly suffered from what appeared to be cardiac arrest. The longest one to live had only been six weeks before they had preserved it in one of those tubes for further testing. Chris felt unease in his stomach; If that was the new hunter at six weeks, what would one look like when it was fully matured?

The next was some experiments done with a new virus that had also failed. While testing on rodents apparently showed “positive” signs, human testing fell through, making it just about as bad as a case of the flu with some other side effects.

Chris had flipped to the last folder when his comm sparked to life in his ear.

“Night Howl to Alpha, come in,” Dion’s voice rang clear.

“Alpha here, over.”

Chris set the folders down and pressed a finger against his earpiece as static crackled a bit.

“We’ve found some samples left behind. We’re unable to deduce what they’re for, but they were all well hidden in a desk drawer.”

“We’ve also found something, captain,” Canine’s voice cut in. “Files and a few more samples here.” “Meet us here, we’ve found something as well. Alpha, out.”

“Wonder what those samples are,” Tundra wondered out loud as she started to stuff the folders into the duffle bag.

Chris was about to turn back around to face the chamber when he spotted something in the corner of the room. There was a metal table half rusted to death with a row of test tubes on top. Upon getting closer, some were found off of the rack and one had been opened, its contents spilled down onto the table and floor. An odd floral scent tickled his nose, nearly making him want to sneeze. The liquid had long since dried to a weird purple color. It looked sticky to the touch, but Chris knew better. Instead, he picked up one of the empty vials and brushed the dust off of the label.

‘Reactive Compound - B,’ it read.

He noticed that there would still be one missing test tube from the rack when the door opened to reveal the other four members of Hound Wolf, nearly startling both Chris and Tundra.

“Holy shit,” Lobo exhaled, immediately seeing the chamber full of dead B.O.W.s before him.

Both he and Umber Eyes walked up to the window and peered in, attempting to make out what’s in there just like Chris had done moments ago.

“What all did you find?” Chris cut off their thought processes.

Canine and Night Howl handed the samples and files to Tundra who quickly pocketed them.

“They’re some sick fucks, I can tell you that,” Night Howl muttered. “That office was full of pictures of test subjects in some disturbing poses.” He pulled out a hard drive from his pocket and also handed it to Tundra. “I don’t wanna know what all that fuck’s got on here, but we swiped it anyways.”

“We found where they were experimenting at, but most of it was destroyed already. We only got a few tubes of blood and some folders that just kept track of some of the experiments,” Charlie stated bluntly.

“We’ve been here long enough,” Chris stated plainly. “Radio the pilot and Den. We’ll finish up in here,” Chris nodded towards the door.

The four once again left Chris’ sight as Tundra stood up from where she was sitting. She had picked up the three folders Chris was just looking at, taking interest in the one he didn’t read. Chris had grabbed a few of the empty test tubes and turned around only to stop in his tracks upon hearing the crunching of glass.

Under his heavy boot, he had lifted it up to see the missing test tube now shattered on the floor. The dark liquid that had once been contained inside had started to glow in the dark to a bright violet. The scent of sickly sweet flowers rose to his nose again as a light smoke trailed up from the spill. Chris covered his mouth with his gloved hand as he started to cough uncontrollably, a sudden pull tugged at his entire body as he was exposed to the fumes.

“Captain!” Tundra exclaimed.

Chris held out a hand to halt her in her place as he stumbled away from the shattered vial. He caught himself on the console and sank into one of the long abandoned chairs, trying to catch his breath. He felt like he had swallowed a burning cigarette. His lungs felt like they had been lit on fire as an uncomfortable sweat made him feel sticky all over. The cold suddenly wasn’t a bother to him anymore.

He didn’t hear Tundra radio the rest of the squad to come back, only noticing them when both Umber Eyes and Night Howl took one of each of Chris’ arms and slung them over their shoulders, essentially dragging the captain out of the bunker as quickly as they could.

Chris grit his teeth as it felt like his clothing was suddenly too tight and way too warm for his liking. It felt like he couldn’t breathe as sweat beaded at his hairline. An odd feeling started to twirl in his stomach, making his abs seize and his back clench. He snatched onto their shoulders, fingernails sinking into the thick material of his gloves as he was suddenly brought outside. He barely registered the quick smacking of the helicopter’s blades speeding up, only focusing on the way the arctic air made his skin feel.

They settled Chris into the cabin of the helicopter before slamming the doors shut. As some of them pawed at Chris to hold him down or take his vitals, he overheard Lobo get on the comms.

“Den, this Lobo! Alpha’s down, requesting emergent medical standby on base. ETA is two hours.”

He could barely make out the rest of what everyone else was saying over the rising beat of his heart in his ears or the way his temples pounded against his skull. His vision swayed and he only got warmer and warmer, a sudden pull at his eyes made the squad freak out and try to shake him awake. They tried calling his name, but all he could hear was your voice crying it out instead just as his world went dark.

It was radio silent since the call from Lobo cut out. You couldn’t reach any of them, not even the pilot. Instead, you kept your eyes firmly planted on the helicopter’s location firmly moving closer and closer to base. You counted down the miles in your head from hundreds to dozens to the single digits. You had radioed medical already, no doubt they were already waiting with a gurney and a crash cart for the captain as soon as they landed.

And then the horrifying idea struck:

They would radio it in if he passed, right?

Just the thought made you horribly nauseous and antsy, barely able to sit in your seat for long. When the helicopter was two miles from the base, you couldn’t help yourself and got up from your desk, abandoning your post as you rushed to the landing. By the time you got up there, you could hear the distant blades turning and see the lights through the night fog steadily getting closer and closer before it was right above you all. As soon as the cabin was steady and landed, medical staff peeled open the doors to the helicopter and transferred the captain onto the gurney.

The sight of him made your world stand still for a moment.

A respirator clinging to his nose and mouth, skin stained with sweat, his bulletproof vest had been pulled off and his jacket had been opened to make room for the heart monitors to be attached to his chest. He looked to be a sickly pale and he was breathing so heavily, weakly struggling against all that touched him as he was wheeled away.

As the rest of Hound Wolf watched on, they couldn’t help but notice you. They weren’t dumb, of course. They knew of the little spark you and the captain had. They constantly made jokes to the captain about you and how he should grow some balls already. They had seen the way you and Chris stare at each other, the way Chris goes out of his way to personally bring you reports instead of emailing them or having someone else bring you them, how he always eagerly answers the comms when it’s you talking on the other end. You both had been pining for each other since you joined them a few months back.

It was Tundra that broke you out of your trance as you watched the medical team wheel Chris through the emergency doors that lead right to the medical bay. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, unmasked, she gave you a reassuring smile.

“He’ll be okay. This is Chris Redfield we’re talking about,” her words were soft.

“Yeah, he’s too stubborn to die,” Canine piped up.

That earned him a swift elbow to the ribs from Umber Eyes and a pointed look from the others.

“What happened?”

You finally turned your attention to the others, eyebrows pinched in worry. You were starting to feel a little sick to your stomach.

“We found samples in some testing chamber and he stepped on one without realizing it,” Tundra explained. She dug in her pocket before pulling out two empty vials and handed them to you. “They’re the same as the one he stepped on: Reactive Compound - B. According to the files, it was used solely on the B.O.W.s they were breeding down there, but it was proven ineffective.”

Breeding? Did she say breeding?

A flush came to your cheeks as you stared back at her with wide eyes. There was no fucking way.

“Breeding?”

“Yes,” she hesitated. “It’s… an aphrodisiac.”

Chris Redfield had been essentially drugged with an aphrodisiac and is now suffering from it.

You honestly didn’t know what to say. You’ve heard of these kinds of things happening before, but you never thought you’d actually see it happen.

“Luckily, it was just the vapors of it, so it shouldn’t last long,” Night Howl offered.

You only nodded before looking back to the doors of the med bay. You knew there was no way in hell you’d be able to see him now let alone possibly later. They’d quarantine him, keep him under strict watch.

Tundra rubbed your shoulder before guiding you back inside.

Hours melted by slowly. You could barely keep yourself calm as you worried your bottom lip relentlessly. Your knee wouldn’t stop bouncing as you sat at your desk, fiddling with your thumbs, busying yourself with reports and filing whatever you could away. It all became too much for you, you couldn’t continue to sit here while Chris was alone in some room being watched like an experiment. You got up from your desk, your rolling chair nearly knocking over as you quickly marched out of your office and towards the medical bay.

As you walked, nearly jogged, you couldn’t help but wonder what you would say to get in. You really didn’t have any pull and they surely wouldn’t take anything Chris would say as an order in his state. You just kept walking, adamant on seeing him at the very least. He was probably so confused if he had woken.

As you trekked through the halls, you passed by the dark hallway that led to both Chris’ office and his room only to be snatched up by the back of your blazer jacket and shoved into the hard wall.

You gasped and cried out in shock, the air leaving your lungs quickly. Before you could make any more noise, a large scarred hand reached up and covered your mouth, muffling your cries. Your eyes were wide in shock and fright as whoever it was pressed their entire body against yours, allowing you to feel everything. You could barely make out any details in the dark, but you quickly spotted a glint of light in a pair of steely blue eyes. You quickly stopped struggling against the large hands pinning you in place, allowing him to loosen his grip on your face and shoulder.

“Chris?” you whispered.

You could now tell just from the scent alone that it was him, the faint smell of his cologne acting as a dead giveaway to you. The hand that was once on your mouth and nose came up to claw at the wall next to your head, in the low lighting you could barely make out his muscles shimmering with sweat and bulging. The other hand was still connected to you, fisting the material of your blazer, keeping you pinned up against the wall. He was panting like he had ran an entire marathon, chest heaving, shoulders squared. You also quickly realized the thing poking at your lower belly through the thick cargo pants he was wearing, a horrible blush settling over your cheeks. He loomed over you, casting you in darkness with how big he was compared to you.

How did he get out?

Surely they wouldn’t have just let him out, especially after what he had been afflicted with.

“C-Chris, I- Are you feeling oka- Mmm!”

He cut you off by nearly smashing his lips with yours, swallowing your gasp this time as he really pressed himself up against you. There were no minute gaps between you both, you could really feel everything. The hand that was snatching at your blazer quickly moved to the back of your head, locking his fingers in your hair, practically forcing you to stay locked in his fiery kiss. He was so riled up, kissing you passionately as though he would never see you again, nipping at your lower lip to get you to open up. When you didn’t at first, he sank his teeth in, pulling a whimper from you. Taking the opening he created, his tongue invaded the cavity of your mouth, exploring it with vigor as his tongue swirled around with yours. You ended up snatching him by his shirt, twisting your fingers in the slightly damp material and drawing him even closer.

God, the heat that radiated off of him was immense. You could feel his balmy sweat through his thin t-shirt.

The hand that was clawing at the wall snatched at your lower back, fisting the stiff material and forced your core up against his tented erection. You gasped and tried to pull back, cunt clenching as your pulse raised. When you tried to pull away, he snarled like an animal and deepened the kiss, teeth nearly clacking against one another. You could feel how big he was, how thick he was. You didn’t doubt that he would be big down there, but this? Fuck, you could feel it twitching too.

He suddenly pulled away, graciously allowing you to gulp down oxygen and lean into his touch. The glint in his eyes had darkened, the steely blue nearly swallowed by the pitch blackness of his pupils. You could see the gears turning, you saw something lingering in his eyes. Was it restraint? Was he fighting back against this? He was honestly fighting a losing battle as the sweat kept darkening his t-shirt and his dick just got harder.

And just then, you saw his eyes soften from their rabid gaze. Pupils shrank a bit, his breathing calmed for just a few pregnant seconds.

“Tell me you want this,” he begged softly. “Please.”

You nodded, not able to find your breath for a moment.

“I want this,” your voice was so light it was barely audible.

But he heard it. You could see his pupils start to dilate once again, nearly covering those beautiful blues when he grabbed you once again. You were expecting another steamy kiss but gasped out loud when he easily tossed you up and onto his broad shoulder. At the sound of you gasping and choking a bit when his brawn dug into your ribs, he clapped a big hand over your ass to shut you up. He dragged you down the hallway and kicked the door to his room open, the door slammed behind him from the force. Your hands scrambled to hold onto him only to have your body soar as he dropped you onto the bed unceremoniously. You landed with a gasp, bouncing on the firm mattress and rumpled sheets. The light by his bedside automatically turned on upon sensing your presence, revealing just how sex-crazed Chris had really become.

He was staring down at you like a predator, lips parted as he panted, he held an animalistic gaze. The gray t-shirt he wore hugged all of his muscles deliciously, sweat darkening around his pecs and down his abs, highlighting all of that brawn. His black cargo pants were held on by a belt wrapped tightly around his waist, but the star of the show was that erection straining underneath.

You could smell the sex in the air, and a brief glance away from him showed a trashcan full of used tissues. Had they just holed him up in his room to let him masturbate it all out? If so, that clearly hadn’t worked.

Chris snatched your attention back to him when he grabbed at your pants and roughly pulled them off of your person. You weren’t expecting it, scooting away from him like he had shocked you. Your dress pants were tossed over his shoulder carelessly, pooling by the door. His eyes zeroed in on your panties; Black, solid with a bit of lace around the waistband. Your button-up had ridden up a bit on your belly and your blazer had been forced open by him snatching at you just moments ago, the button in the middle missing entirely. He could spy with those eagle eyes of his, the dark wet spot slowly growing between your legs, hugging that pussy that was all his.

Feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze, you drew your legs closer to your body, closing your legs in the process as you dragged your short heels up on the bed. Chris had snatched your ankles suddenly, roughly tugging your legs apart, your heels knocking off of your feet by the force of it.

“Chris!” you gasped.

Should you be afraid of him? This isn’t how you thought your first time with the captain would go. You always thought it would be more romantic, not with his being all sex-crazed and about to fuck you like an animal.

“Don’t hide yourself from me,” he growled. He roughly tugged you until your ass was barely off of the mattress. He kept your ankles in a vice-like grip as he forced your legs open. He knelt down to where you could feel his breath on your clothed pussy. You whimpered pathetically as his nose barely brushed you down there, then his lips. He snagged the crotch of your panties in his sharp teeth before playfully pulling them a bit before letting them go. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you,” he groaned. “How long I’ve wanted to fucking ruin you.”

“Chris~”

He suddenly snagged your panties and tore them for your person, tossing the wet scraps over his shoulder to join your pants and shoes. He dove right in, nose dividing your folds before his tongue greedily drank from your. Pressing his tongue flat, he dragged it up your kitty, fully tasting you as something sparked to life inside of you. You cried, tilting your head back as you snatched at whatever you could get your hands on. One sank into his black comforter while the other snagged his short hair, nails digging into his scalp. He growled against your pussy, deliciously vibrating it as he drank from you, licking up your sweet juices as they came out of you. He ate you out like a man starved, like a man possessed. Roughly, he fucked you with his tongue, dragging the tip in and our of your cunt, lapping at you like he was a dog. He kept your legs over his shoulders, hands snatching at your waist to bring you in even closer to that mouth of his. You locked your knees to his head, not allowing him to go anywhere. Your mouth was hung open as you openly moaned and cried, praising the captain as he ate you out.

“Right there! AH~ Chris! Right there,” you whined.

Chris hunched in on himself, getting up a bit, forcing your ass to lift off of the edge a bit so he could fuck you deeper with his tongue. The friction was so delicious you could get drunk off of it. Every tug on his hair had him snarling, pushing his face deeper into your folds. You gasped when his teeth dragged at your mound, sending little sparks down your legs and right back up into your blazing hot core.

You could feel it tightening. Like a rubber band being slowly stretched out, becoming taut, ready to snap. He was gonna make you cum just from that tongue of his alone. He looked up from your cunt, over your belly and clothed breasts. The look in his crazed eyes so desperate for you sent you over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut as you came into his mouth, your mouth falling open as you let out a lewd moan.

You were glad that Chris’ room was away from the others.

He lapped at your orgasm as if it were a gift from the gods themselves, greedily drinking from you until your cunt was clean save for the bit starting to dribble out from the clenching pussy. He stood suddenly, pushing you back until you were now in the middle of the bed. He quickly stripped his t-shirt off, revealing to you the expanse of his muscles. You couldn’t help but nearly drool at them. For someone of Chris’ age, he really didn’t know the meaning of slowing down. His muscles rippled, highlighted with glistening sweat from the lamplight. His abs clenched and flexed, his broad chest heaved with every gulp of fresh air. His lips and beard glistened with the remnants of your orgasm. The next to go was his belt and pants. He pulled his belt off so fast the leather snapped against his hand but he remained unflinching. He dropped his cargo pants and kicked off his combat boots without care, leaving him in only his poor, straightening gray boxers. There was a wet spot where precum was leaking, slowly growing just as you had done in your panties. His erection tented more against the freeing fabric, no longer constrained by the tight pants. Chris dropped them too, practically snatching them off like they had offended him and tossed the poor pair to the floor.

Your eyes widened at the size of him. There’s no way that could fit inside of you. He was long and thick, and his head was red and a bit swollen. A trail of milky white cum ran down his shaft, trailing along a thick vein that ran along the underside. His balls looked full and heavy too, ready to dump his seed right into your waiting womb and breed you. Your mouth was watering at the sight, but something told you that you wouldn’t be tasting that dick tonight.

Chris wrapped one of his large hands around his dick and pumped his cock a few times, smearing his precum around his head and giving it a bit of a squeeze.

You couldn’t stand your clothes being on you anymore, breaking eye contact to fumble with the buttons of your button-up when Chris pounced on you. You had only managed to pull off your blazer and undo the top half of your buttons when he pulled the damned piece of clothing from your body, buttons flying across his room. You meant to scold him when he shut you up with a hand grabbing at your throat. You choked a bit, eyes wide as he forced you back down onto the bed. He rut his cock against your trembling cunt, smearing his precum and your orgasm around, readying you for him as his other hand grabbed at your breasts through your bra. He pulled your left breast from its cup and sucked at your nipple, worrying your rosebud with his teeth and making you cry out as best as you could.

Your head started to swim a bit from the lack of oxygen when he suddenly entered you, splitting you wide open. He let go of your throat and allowed you to basically scream, your nails suddenly biting into his broad shoulders. He groaned loudly, removing his head from your breast only to bury it in the crook of your neck. He slowly sank into you inch by inch, loving the way your sensitive velvet walls stretched and squeezed to accommodate his girth. He openly moaned against your neck, rutting into you like an animal until he filled you entirely. The head of his dick pressed against your cervix snugly, allowing no more of him to fit inside of you. He started slow with his thrusts, trying to get used to how tight you were wrapped around his big dick. Every thrust had you rocking against the bed, utterly at Chris’ mercy.

He started to speed up quickly, forcing a loud whimper from your lips as your poor pussy ached and cried. He couldn’t quite adjust to your cunt squeezing him, moaning loudly as his proud shoulders faltered. His hips started to snap back and forth at a faster pace, nearly ramming into you, dragging his thick head right into that special little bundle of nerves inside of you perfectly.

Chris went back to busying his mouth with your exposed breast. His left hand fisted the sheets beside your head while the other cupped at your face a little roughly, forcing your head to be tilted into the sheets and he lapped at your plump breast. He growled into you, sinking his teeth into your breast as he thrusted deeper into you. You let out a strangled cry, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you felt another burning sensation right at your core. It was as though your core was dripping with molten iron, ready to forge something big and brazen.

“Chris! I can’t- I’m gonna-”

He cut you off again with another harsh choke, his right hand wrapping around your little neck and squeezing just right to cut off most of your oxygen supply. He felt your pussy twitch and shudder around him. He was going to milk every single one of your orgasms tonight, ride them out, and breed you like the little whore you are.

You came with a choke, veins bulging in your neck as your larynx desperately bobbed. Your lips felt tingly as Chris unlatched his mouth from your breast to steal another kiss from you. He swallowed your cries, licked at the tears that streaked down your cheeks, nipped at what was exposed of your neck. He snarled against your sweaty skin as you came around his dick, biting deeply into the muscle of your shoulder forcing a strangled cry from you once more.

He unwrapped his hand from your throat again, driving himself nearly balls deep inside of you as he licked upwards from your breast to under your jaw.

“Who’s are you?” he snarled in your ear.

“Y-Yours!” you whimpered back quickly.

Your head was swimming, vision hazy and body feeling as though your nerves were made up of static.

You suddenly found yourself empty, whining at his missing cock until he suddenly flipped you over onto your stomach. You gasped, clutching at the sheets as Chris’ hands suddenly seized at your hips and forced your ass up. You weakly grabbed at the bed, unable to prop yourself up on your elbows.

Chris delivered a hard smack across your asscheeks, however. The spank resonated through the room and had you howling like a bitch in heat. He reached down and snagged a hand in your hair once again, pulling your head up just enough for a bit of pain to shoot down your spine right into your leaking cunt. You openly cried and whimpered, knees shaking and your ass throbbing.

“Wrong answer!” he snarled through clenched teeth. “I asked who you belong to.”

“Y-You! Chris! I belong to y-you!”

He delivered another harsh spank against your behind. You howled in pain and ecstasy again, attempting to bury your head in the rumpled sheets now covered in sweat but the hand locked in your hair didn’t allow for that.

“Wrong again, angel.” The use of the pet name made your cunt clench on air. “Who’s bitch are you? Who do you belong to?”

“You! A-Alpha! You!” you moaned like it was a prayer. “I belong to you, Alpha!”

Upon hearing those words, Chris sheathed himself back into you, going as deep as he could before your cervix blocked him off. He openly groaned, mouth hanging open as he groaned and cursed. He settled his hips back into the same motion, snapping back and forth, fucking you senseless, keeping your ass and hips suspended in the air like the submissive bitch you are. His heavy balls smacked against your ass that was still throbbing from his spankings, he had finally relinquished his hold on your hair to grab at your hips with both hands. His nails bit into your soft skin, he openly praised you, pressed kisses up along your spine.

“You’re mine, you hear that?” he snarled in your ear once again. “Your cunt, your womb, you’re all mine.” He nipped at your earlobe and nosed your hair. You could barely hear him over your own heart beating so quickly against your skin. Chris lapped at the back of your neck, nosing your hair off to one side and he bit into your pulse point. “I’m gonna fill you up and you’re gonna take every last drop, you hear me?” His voice was dangerously low. His fingers snagged your hair again as his other gave you a firm spank when you didn’t respond fast enough. He smirked darkly at your short cry. “I’m gonna fill that tight little womb of yours up so well you’ll be bred well and good by the end of the night. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes!” you moaned like a whore.

“Moaning like a slut,” he snapped, spanking you again. He loved how you jumped when his large hand connected with the fine curve of your ass. “You’re my slut, aren’t you? You’re gonna be my knocked up slut after tonight, you know that?” Hearing his words made your cunt gush and throb and tighten. Your womb never felt so ready to be filled. “I’m gonna fuck you over and over and over until I know you’re well and bred like the bitch in heat you are.”

“A-Alpha-”

He spanked you again, enjoying your cries. Fresh tears fell from your eyes and the sheets greedily absorbed them as they fell.

“I can’t wait to get you pregnant.” The hand that was in your hand trailed down to your belly and lovingly stroked it. “Wouldn’t you like that? Being all swollen and fat with my kid? Letting everyone here know that I bred you like a whore? Just the thought of it- Ah, fuck!” Chris hissed as you felt him twitch cautiously inside of you.. His thrusts faltered a bit, growing sloppy as he continued to pile drive near balls deep inside of you. He reached his hand down to your dripping cunt and rubbed you vigorously for a moment, coaxing you to climax quickly. “I’m not stopping until it takes.”

“Alpha, p-please! I need it! I need you!”

Chris was losing himself. He teetered on the edge of release, attempting to draw it out just a bit more. Your sudden climax nearly made him spill into your waiting womb, your walls convulsing around him as he withdrew his fingers. He brought them up to taste you, all sweet and savory with a bit of his salty cum to mix. It tasted like heaven. He brought his hand down to your back, fingers snapping your bra behind your back. He could just imagine you all pregnant and pretty like a picture, tummy all big and swollen, breasts heavy with milk he’d want to try.

“You’re mine! You’re my submissive little cumdump! Do you hear me?”

“Yours! All yours!” you mewled weakly.

Chris found himself cumming inside of you. Abs tensing, back aching and seizing, his cock pumped his hot and milky seed deep inside of you. He came with a roar, head thrown back as he buried himself as deep as he could go. It felt like a massive pressure valve had been opened inside of him, allowing him to flood your womb all full and tight of his seed. You groaned, eyes fluttering and rolling back a bit at how full you really felt. Your cunt squeezed at him, milking him for everything he could give you.

After what felt like hours but really were just minutes, you felt Chris pull out of you. Expecting him to be calm, you relaxed your body and took deep breaths only to get a rude awakening. Chris had flipped you over onto your back once more and dragged your ass back over the edge. Before you could protest, Chris had snagged your ankles and brought them up close to your head, spreading your wide and forcing your knees against your chest. You moaned, tears streaming down your cheeks at the stretch as he folded you into a mating press. There was a dark and very hungry look in Chris’ eyes and you noticed he was still hard as a rock.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’m gonna breed you all night, angel.”

His dick plunged back into your weeping cunt, causing you to only see white.

[ofgarnett]

who: @ajastor

when: pre-gala, post-ascension

Caitlin Siltshore is a storm caught mid-laugh. Since the Strawberry Moon bled itself pale and the old tyrant slipped its hooks from her marrow, every breath tastes like stolen dawn. She paces her bedroom barefoot, trailing sparks—static or sorcery, she can’t decide—and studies her hands the way devout astronomers study eclipses: hungry, reverent, incredulous that something so ordinary could suddenly govern constellations.

One finger at a time, she flexes—thumb, fore, middle, ring, pinky—naming silent constellations of bone and tendon. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. Each knuckle cracks like a lock springing open. Power gathers in her palm, a shimmer just shy of vision: hot mercury rolling behind the skin, obedient, waiting for her whim. She thinks of all the hours those fingers spent as borrowed tools, all the pages they filled at someone else’s command. Now they twitch with impatient melodies only she can hear.

She catches her reflection in the gilt edge of the wardrobe mirror: freckle-bright cheeks, hair untamed from too many triumphant nights, grin wide enough to bruise the glass. She looks... like the happiest she's ever been. Her body, finally her own. Warlock, the word thrums through her throat like a basso note struck on cathedral bells. Not witch, not host, not haunted reliquary. War-lock, key-breaker, door-smasher. She loves the taste of each syllable. 

Impulse becomes ritual. She thumbs open her phone and fires a proof-of-life missile at the architect of this miracle:

Atlas Jay. Proof of life. Vital signs stable. Innovation sings. You hear it too?

Full name, always. There’s an intimacy now to how much she knows it bothers him. Send. She traces the screen with the pad of her thumb as though sealing a ward. 

A few hours later, one short, cryptic exchange later - she’s on his doorstep, ready to revel in the beauty of innovation. But the penthouse door yawns open on a wreckage of brilliance and bad decisions. Glassware litters every flat surface - pipettes abandoned beside lime rinds, beakers repurposed as highball glasses. Bottles of gin sweat on the counter, tonic gone flat in half-drained mixers, and front-and-center stands Atlas Jay Astor, cradling a Tom Collins as if it’s the only lawful constant left in his universe. The air glitters with alchemical dust and citrus peel, and his aura—usually a precise lattice—flickers thin as spun sugar, threatening collapse. He looks less like the architect of perfect sigils and more like a fifteen-year-old who just discovered fireworks and pocket change. Cait's eyes narrow.

What the fuck.

“Looks like the lab’s moonlighting as a cocktail lounge. Hosting a one-man soirée?"

Last week’s memory slithers up her spine: Dorian—still woven through her nerves then—pressing spectral fingers to Atlas, drawing out arc after arc of argent energy. She remembers Atlas trembling, eyes white with equations only he could see, power siphoned until each breath rattled like a coin dropped down a well.

She told herself he’d recover—people bounce, don’t they? - but his aura is banner flapping in invisible wind. It’s… brittle. His aura feels brittle, as if any sudden gust could splinter it. Cait breathes, taking in the gin-strewn laboratory and the Tom Collins sweating in his hand. “I disappear for a week and come back to tonic water propping up your aura—ring me before you hit the duct-tape phase, yeah?” What the fuck happened? hovers on her tongue, goes instead for: “Have you been running on empty since our meeting?”

[i-didnt-do-1t]

Oscar Delancey who approached his da in the trolley strike and tightened his hand on the neck of his bat and didn’t know if he was genuinely going to be able to hit him with it. Who bit his tongue, and held an arm out to his side to stop morris from stepping any further into the chaos.

There were other strike breakers there too of course, other men hired to come out with bats and chains and fists. A wagon had caught alight already, a banner of some kind, reading about workers rights torn to the ground, muddy and walked on and illegible now.

There wasn’t quite the usual adrenaline he felt before a fight, usually he found them fun. This was more weighted.

He’d seen his da, once or twice maybe, since getting out of the refuge at seventeen, not that he was free necessarily, handed straight into Wiesels custody instead of Snyder’s, but that was nearing three years ago now. No occasion he had seen him had ever been intentional. Running into him in pubs or seeing one of the newsies sell a paper to him. A scathing glare across a busy street and a shoulder past him without acknowledging his existence.

Oscar’s grip tightened on the end of the bat as he scoured the chaos of the crowd again, looking for the familiar face. He could practically feel morris getting impatient stood next to him.

“Os we ain’t gonna get paid if we don’t do anything.”

“He’s over there, far side of the wagon.”

It was hard to make him out through the smoke but Oscar would recognise him anywhere. Hell, he practically saw him every morning when he caught himself in the mirror. His face looked bloody already, and any of Oscar’s doubts that he wouldn’t be able to hit him dissipated.

His grip tightened on the bat again, this time with a stubborn satisfaction. A determination. A vengeance built on years of being the one with the bloodied face, or kneeling on the floor cleaning up Morris’s. An anger built on the years lay back to back with Morris on their shared bed at the refuge after da had dumped them there; staring at the mattress above him, rough springs digging into his back while he tried to ignore the sounds of breathing and coughing and sniffling. morris had long since stopped asking when da would be back to get them. A resentment of this thing that he was born with in his blood that he couldn’t get rid off, that looked like da and talked like da, that had Morris glance at him with something apprehensive when he snarled too cruelly or yelled too loud.

It was an easy conclusion, really, when he put it all together like that. When he thought about the tone of his old man’s voice as he spat that he was a bastard.

Oscar hated him.

“C’mon mo.” He said, and it was just loud enough for morris to make out over the din. “Let’s go say hi to da.”

[aworldofwhitenoise]

Hello! Hello! Hello!

I'm back at it again! I'm in search for another role play partner.

Let me tell y'all a little bit about myself. My name is Laura (she/her) and I'm 21 years old. My time zone is MST. This spring I will be going into my last semester of college. I work a part time job and I'm probably going to be looking for another one, because rent is expensive. Long story short: I'm a very busy gal! Because of that my love of writing got pushed to the back burner. However I'm determined to turn that around and actually engage in my favorite hobby.

When it comes to my writing, I've been doing it since I was a kid. However I've been role-playing off and on for roughly 8 years. I consider myself to be semi lit, a standard replying ranging from 500-1,200 words. I lean more towards the latter, however am willing to match my partner. I only write with people that are 18+. I do this since I'm an adult and do not feel comfortable writing NSFW topics with underaged people. (That being said I do not generally write smut but like to write about other NSFW topics) As stated above I'm very busy so I can't guarantee a response super quickly. My response time can range from a few days to a few weeks. If that is a deal breaker I deeply apologize. I do try to supplement that with things like moodboards, playlists, tiktoks, memes and general OOC chat!

Anyways! On to the fun stuff.

What I'm looking to role-playing! I'm looking for either Fandom oc x Canon or an Original Plot oc x oc. It is a requirement of mine to double. You play my love interest for me and I'll play your love interest for you. This is non negotiable. I write with mxf or fxf relationships.

Fandom

(note: I'm AU and crossover friendly. Also open to oc x oc set in the Fandom universe!)

Marvel:

Who I'm looking for: Peter Parker (Tom or Andrew both work!), Miles Morales, Bucky Barnes, Eddie Brock, Bruce Banner

Who I can write: Bucky Barnes, Stephen Strange, Quentin Beck, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, Natsha Romanoff and more! I find writing most MCU characters super easy to pick up on so I'd been down to try my hand at other characters! Just ask!

Titans:

This is still a very new one and I've never written this one before! However I'm super interested in trying it out if you want to take a chance.

Who I'm looking for: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Gar Logan, Tim Drake, Conner Kent

Who I can write: Dick Grayson, Gar Logan, Rachel Roth, Hank Hall. Once again just ask and I'm open to trying my hand at a character! Does not need to be the Titans version or a Titans character. That's just the series I'm most familiar with!

Supernatural:

Who I'm looking for: Dean Winchester

Who I can write: Sam Winchester, Castiel

Harry Potter:

Who I'm looking for: Draco Malfoy, Newt Scamander

Who I can write: Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin (I LOVE doing oc x oc for Harry Potter so if you got ideas let me know!)

Anime:

Who I'm looking for: Kyoya Ootori, Tamaki Suoh, Hikaru Hitachiin, Yukio Okumura, Sebastian Michaelis, Suzaku Kururugi, Erwin Smith, Alphonse Elric

Who I can write: Tamaki Suoh, Hikaru Hitachiin, Haruhi Fujioka, Rin Okumura, Suguro Ryuji, Ciel Phantomhive (aged up. Please), Lelouch Vii Britannia, Levi Ackerman, Erin Yeager, Edward Elric, Roy Mustang (I also watch a lot of anime so just ask!)

Mystic Messenger:

Who I'm looking for: Seven, Zen

Who I can write: literally any of the characters!

Original Plots

Okay! So I do have specific ideas as well as genres/tropes that I generally enjoy.

Genres/Tropes:

Romance

Horror

Action

Urban Fantasy

Mystery

Super heros/vigilantes

Enemies to Lovers

Childhood friends to lovers

Bad boy/good girl (vise versa)

Forbidden love

Royalty

Celebrity (fictional/original celebrity. No real people.)

Mafia

Soul mates!

Original ideas:

These are going to be very abridged ideas for two reasons: 1. To help bring this already very long ad to an end and 2. It gives us an opportunity to build upon the idea and add to it!

Character A has to return to their home town after a series of unfortunate events that ended with their father dying. When they returns home they reconnects with Character B, their ex. But what happens when their mutual friends dig up secrets about their seemingly quiet town that threatens to put everyone they love in danger. And there is only one thing on A's mind: what if their father's death wasn't natural causes like everyone claimed.

Character A is a trouble maker who was taken in by their dismissive aunt and uncle. A now has to work in the sleepy town where nothing ever happens. That is until they meet Character B, a shinning star in the town. What happens when B's best friend is found mysteriously dead after being missing for a few days and everyone beings to turn against each other attempting to solve the murder.

Character A is a struggling ambitious artist, working in a little town. They paint murals, and sculpt anything to make ends meat. However they have big dreams of going to art school. Character B is a bartender with a carefree attitude and a love for music. The two meet one day at work and really hit it off. But can A risk having a relationship when they know they are going to be going away to school soon?

Please like this post or message me if you are interested!! Thank you for reading my ad! I'm looking forward to meeting you! ♡

XOXO

~Laura

[elysianstars]

FEH: Oh you really want merges for your Spring Alfonse, huh? Gonna drop 300+ of your F2P orbs on that, huh? Too bad, here’s a string of random pity breakers, and your very last summon just before the banner ends will be Spring Sharena.

FEH: But here’s a 5* Queen Camilla as your free summon on the next banner.

FEH: And here’s Baby L’Arachel as your free summon on the new Sacred Stones banner.

FEH: And here’s Baby Marth as your free summon on the one after that.

WHY IS MY LUCK LIKE THIS.

[jonsastan]

Jonsa: A Dream of Spring @jonsadreamofspring

Day 3 Winterfell / Essos / Beyond the Wall

He had gone east in search of a sister, but found a cousin.

They’d killed him. Stabbed him and left him bleeding in the snow, dead. And then he wasn’t dead, but he was cold. He felt like ice and snow ran in his veins and now amount of fire or flame could warm.

He was at White Harbour, looking for a ship heading south. As far south as south goes. When he heard the captain speaking, of a girl with brown hair and grey eyes that had seen too much. He’d grabbed the captain’s collar and demanded details.

It sounded like Arya, the only hint of Arya being alive since their father had lost his head. He followed that whisper to Braavos, but the whisper died there. It was there he learnt his name.

He learnt the truth from two men, and a book. Howland Reed, Jon Connington, and a Maester’s journal. He was not Jon Snow. He was Jaehaerys Targaryen.

So he went searching for his aunt. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing Maester Aemon had said, so he would try and find his family, maybe then the ice in his veins would warm. They stood now, Howland Reed, Jon Connington, and him, in the white marble chamber of the Great Pyramid. Unsullied guarded the doors and faint murmurs could be heard beyond them.

Jon caught words, phrases.

Liar. Fake. Usurper. His fist curled and tightened. But then other words, in a voice that was almost familiar. Honourable. Brave. Strong. They were beckoned to enter by a slender girl with olive brown skin and tight natural curls.

Jon bowed, and the girl with the curls spoke.

“You have the honour of being in the presence of Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.” He heard the rustle of silks and raised his eyes to the petite woman sitting on a marble bench. It was not the Queen’s beauty that made his breath catch in his throat, but the woman standing beside her.

“Rise, my lords.” The Queen spoke in a voice that was confident and assured. “May I present my ward and most trusted advisor, Sansa of House Stark, the Red Wolf.”

It’s her.

Sansa stood, her hair cut shorter than he’d ever seen it but still beautifully red. His cheeks flushed as he saw the pale white flesh of her stomach and arms. Her dress was made of a pinkish gold and was in the style of Meereen, much like the Queen’s.

Connington spoke.

“May I present, Jaehaerys of the Houses Targaryen and Stark, true born son of the Last Dragon, The White Wolf, Former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Bastard of Winterfell, and Lord of the Free Folk.”  Jon almost winced at the titles. He did not wish to have them, they meant nothing, just pomp and grandeur that mattered little.

His aunt raised an eyebrow, but Sansa’s eyes did not move from his face.

“Former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch?” She rose from her marble bench and stalked down the stairs to where Jon, Reed, and Connington stood. “Forgive me if I am mistaken, for I was forced to flee my home and know only what I have been told of Westeros, but one joins the Night’s Watch for life, does one not?”Daenerys asked, a wry and charming smile on her lips. Sansa had fallen in behind the Queen and descended also, eyes still fixed on Jon.

“Aye, your grace.” Affirmed Jon.

“Then how does one become a former Lord Commander?” Her wry and charming smile vanished.

“My watch ended.” The hall was filled with heavy silence, until Sansa’s quiet and ladylike voice spoke.

“Your grace, perhaps we should hear the evidence as to Lord Snow’s identity?” Jon did not miss the gentle brush of Sansa’s fingers on Daenerys’ arm, nor the calm effect it seemed to have on the Dragon Queen.

“I agree.”

Jon Connington spoke first, with a story of battles and blood and a babe. Howland Reed continued the tale, speaking of ships and secrets and silence. Jon finally offered Daenerys the Maester’s journal describing the union of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

Daenerys heard every word and skimmed the pages placed before her. Sansa listened intently, and read each word written on the page when Daenerys handed her the journal. When all was said and done another heavy silence filled the chamber.

“It seems,” Daenerys turned as ascended to her bench-like throne. “I am not as alone in the world as I once thought, Nephew.” Jon bowed to her.

“Sansa, sweetling, please show our guests to their chambers, then summon my Small Council and return to me. We have much to discuss.” Sansa curtsied the curtsey she had mastered at age four and led the men out of the chamber. She showed Reed and Connington to large chambers where hot, scented water already awaited them in large copper baths.

When just her and Jon walked the corridor he tried to speak to her.

“Sansa, where-”

“Not yet.” She hissed, silencing him.

Later, after servants had been with candles and food and fresh clean silken clothes, when the moon was high and it seemed the city itself was sleeping, Jon heard a gentle tap on his chamber door. He opened it and Sansa slipped inside. She was dressed in a pale blue nightgown with a deep grey shawl wrapped about her despite the heat.

He devoured the sight of her. His family, no matter if she was a cousin. She was all that was good and right and true. She was Winterfell, and summer snows, and direwolf banners. She was Robb’s grin, and Arya’s mischief, and Bran’s laugh, and Rickon’s smiles. She was home.

And for the first time since he had been dragged back into life, Jon Snow felt warm.

[agustdef]

Here & Now - Chapter 20

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 1,441 

Warning: None.

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn​

Time went by faster than I thought I could. I was out of Korea and back in the states working at an accelerated pace. Everything felt like it was coming at me all at once and that there was more to do than there actually was.

When a Saturday rolled around - the first one in weeks where I was free - I was more than okay with being forced to rest. The thought of writing just because I wanted to wasn’t even appealing.

My only productivity would be catching up on Power, Wynonna Earp, and trying to finally finish the c-drama Golden Eyes. And I got to do it with two dorks who were equally if not more tired than me.

“I thought you said they were friends. Why would Tommy hurt his friend like that?” Hoseok asked.

Groaning, I reached for the closest pillow and launched it at him. Sadly, he caught it and stuck his tongue out at me.

Halsey sighed and grabbed the remote, pausing Power and then heading back out to the main menu. “That’s it. We’re starting the show from the very beginning so you stop asking me questions.”

“Which I proposed hours ago?” Hoseok mumbled in Korean.

I threw another pillow at him, but it landed that time; smashing into his face. Once he recovered from the shock he threw them back, harder than I did, but he missed and hit Hals instead. She was not pleased and rose from her seat to beat him with one.

As they quarreled I took over the task of getting us back to the first episode of season one. Just as I was going to get them to stop so we could stop my phone dinged.

Yoongi was texting me.

Hey. Can you tell Hobi to answer his phone?

I glanced to Hals and Hoseok and they were still going at it. Shaking my head I let them be.

Sorry. I’ve been informed to deny all requests for him to do work today.

Too many seconds passed so I assumed he’d leave it at that, which was stupid on my part since I definitely knew better.

Ignore that.

Part of me wanted to give in, but Hoseok had wanted a day free from doing things. And Yoongi definitely wanted him to do something.

I gave my word, Yoon. Can’t it wait?

The next notifications came fast and there were multiple.

…

Kennie…

Please

It’ll be quick I promise

I knew it wasn’t serious, but I knew that it would end up calling us a million times if he didn’t get an answer soon. Plus I believe him if he said it would be quick, he’d never drag Hoseok back into work when he knew how tired he was and it wasn’t completely necessary.

...ok

Before I could even fully turn to look at Hoseok he was responding, “Tell him I saw it and I’ll handle it later. I already have some ideas written.”

He’ll send you what he has later.

Thanks

Assuming that was all I sat my phone down and got ready to start the show since they were both in their respective seats. But just as I went to push play my phone dinged again.

Wait. What are you doing that he’s busy?

Before I could respond the phone was no longer in my hand. Hals was staring at it and Hoseok moved to the couch to see it as well. They both looked at each other and then back to me.

“We need to talk,” Hals said.

Hoseok moved to sit on the other side of me on the couch and took the remote from me.

It felt like an intervention, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t know what it was about.

“So…” Hals seemed to be going for chill, but Hoseok cut her off.

He grabbed my hands and stared into my eyes, which made it feel like he was staring into my soul. I couldn’t help but try to look away, but his gaze was too intense to do so.

“It’s been over a month and nothing. You're normal, but also awkward. When will you talk about it?”

Hoseok had been the first to notice our behavior after that day and cornered me afterward to figure out what was going on. I’d told Hals because she tended to pick up on things like that and if she didn’t and someone else told her she’d be displeased. I only needed one personal life issue at a time.

“Well…” I didn’t know what to say. “Ugh, I don’t know. I barely survived talking about it the first time. How am I supposed to initiate the conversation.”

“By not being a punk,” Hals whispered.

Whipping my head around I glared at her. “We can have a whole conversation about certain people being a punk.”

She held her hands up in surrender. “I know, but come on you can talk about it. You’re a big girl and you were excited. A lot of things make you much more nervous than this, so just bring it up.”

Sighing, I released Hoseok’s hands and leaned back into the couch. “I tried.”

“You did?” They shouted in unison.

I nodded. “Yes, we were on Facetime trying to finish some work. Once we were done we’d started talking about something random. He laughed and I got the nerve to bring it up, but once I said: “Hey, can we talk about that thing from two weeks ago.” He looked panicked and then Hobi and Jungkook burst into the room. He didn’t bring it up after that.”

Hoseok made a face as Hals reached over and lightly punched him. “You need to stop cock blocking her. You’ve helped twice now.”

I rolled my eyes. “This wasn’t even a cock block situation.”

“Ow, they were accidents,” Hoseok defended.

“Anyways,” I said trying to regain the floor. “I didn’t know what to do after that so I let it be. He didn’t bring it up either. And it’s not like I don’t want to, but nothing feels like the right moment and it just makes shit awkward if I bring it up via text or over the phone.”

The urge to just blurt it out presented itself almost every time we talked, but I reigned it in. I didn’t want to mess up what was happening between us by springing it on him. Especially because doubts were starting to stir.

“Give us the rest of the reason,” Hals said, nudging me and stopping the scenario I was starting in my head that didn’t end well.

For a moment I remained silent, glancing between them. They both wore non-judgemental expressions and as usual, it felt comfortable talking to them about things.

“The ball was in his court. He was the one who needed to respond to what I said, so even if we’d been interrupted you’d think he’d bring it up later. What I said wasn’t a deal-breaker for me, I just wanted it out there. So, it’s kind of hard to not have that voice in the back of my head tells me maybe he’s rethinking it. And it’s such a small voice, which I was ignoring until recently. But as time passes, I can’t help but wonder. Which is stupid, but I can’t help it.”

The more I spoke the more frustrated I got. Huffing I threw my head back, almost slamming it into the couch. Things like admitting feeling was weird for me; not because I felt like I had to hide them, but because I didn’t tend to feel strongly in non-platonic ways often.

My dating life was mostly casual and was serious once and I’d done very little of the initial admitting. Now, this was a situation where I refused to acknowledge my feelings even to myself until they were strong enough because there was too much at risk. And now that I’d been ready to things got weird and messed up. I felt like I was driving myself mad sometimes with it.

“You know he hasn’t changed his mind,” Hoseok said softly, squeezing my hand.

“Well, I need him to say that,” I said.

Silence ensued for long enough that it made me uncomfortable. Sitting up, I grabbed the remote and started the episode. I could still feel their eyes on me.

“You’re both idiots,” Hals said.

“I know.”

In the midst of the silence Hals’ phone dinged. She checked it and then scuffed. When I glanced her way she looked offended.

“What?’ Hoseok asked.

“Namjoon just texted me to say I fucked up.”

[johnschneiderblog]

How’s your sump pump ...?

Something tells me this water-logged “spring” has been a banner year for sump pump sales ...

This slimy beast didn’t look quite this bad when I pulled it from the turbid depths of its underwater cave; this is how it looked after I dragged it to Home Depot - just to make sure that the replacement would match up (there are more variables than you might imagine).

A couple of weeks ago we thought we had an electrical problem at our home. In fact, the motor on the sump pump had fried and shorted out the circuit. An electrician unplugged the pump, reset the breaker. Everything on the circuit worked again. Except the sump pump.

“Now all you have to,” he said, “is put in a new pump.”

I got the new pump and, having done the job before, put it in without much trouble.

I’ve written quite a lot on the subject of what I like about living in the country, beyond the reach of city water and sewer. One of the things I DO NOT like: sump pumps. When one dies, it’s almost always an emergency.

So far, we’ve been lucky, catching both our sump pump failures before the ground water backed up into the basement.

[queernuck]

something that impacted me in reading about the Futurists, thinking about both the potential that kineticism as a representative concept, the means by which motion and kinetic escalation is represented through aesthetic means, is paired with the aesthetics of war, militarism, industrialization, and in fact that there was socialist and anarchist involvement in Futurist art in addition to the obvious (and in many ways definitive) fascist character of the movement invites a great deal of questioning about the political nature of the aesthetic, the purpose of art, exactly that which is meant by art, the way that art takes on certain character, including class consciousness, or of course reversal thereof.

the corporate appropriation of art is often interesting even as an affect: the deconstruction of fashion present in Virgil Abloh’s work for Off White’s collaborations with Nike is effectively acting toward a kind of self-aware dual return to the process of creating the shoe: it is a creation of creation, the process by which work is generated itself part of the completed work, a kind of act of presenting the evidence of the process for evaluation. The way that this alludes to sample sales, works in progress, the way that one has a sense of pre-fashion, a kind of unready-for-wear in Off White’s clothing, is thusly drawn out by the way in which it mimics something akin to industrial pre-production, the process of industrialization behind custom clothing such as this made obvious through that very process itself.

in turn, we are at a moment akin to those which propelled many of the Futurists in relation to war: akin to the aimless and disaffected veterans which became the first fascists, the Vietnam Vets who started the militia movement and formed a reactionary backbone to the 90s resurgence in militias which itself made space for current white supremacist movements of various sorts, there is a way in which the “future” is being reappropriated by fascist ideology. the way in which a proliferation of a kind of hyperreal, futuristic post-postmodernity aesthetics have used the shock of violence, the distance that ironic reference to the abjection of fascism and its violence affords, the way that a humorous and satirical character that coupled itself with a great deal of early Vaporwave was appropriated by those who interpret Cyberpunk as a parable about how great it is to be a fucking rich parasite, how incredible it is to not only accept the violence of poverty but to in fact revel in it, use it as a means of obtaining targets, the endless remove of renaming and resignification found by an ever-changing lineup of memes and references that go far beyond the racial coding in the use of “Monday” as a racial slur and pushing believability even further, relying on a process of ironic distance and development of further second-order acts of signification to build up an entire vocabulary of violence around their various symbols and signals, there has been a kind of reproduction of the notion of process-as-work as well as a process-of-work-as-process such that in addition to classic signs of white supremacy and fascism (which can be deployed when the desire is to outwardly and obviously signal white supremacist affinities) there is an entire constellation, a wide assemblage of weighted and doubled words that stands in contrast to the obvious, such that it can be easily denied.

Fascination with the aesthetics of death, of violence and militarism, are not by any means inherently fascist. In fact, the militarism of the aesthetics at hand makes it such that looking at the real-world embodiment tied to it, the way in which images of either training for or exerting colonial violence figure heavily in these fascist aesthetics (militiamen, soldiers, special forces, police) leaves a great deal of room both for the same approach to leftist forces (as well as the questioning of imperialist hegemony through the introduction of nations considered anti-imperialist or at least making hegemony less stable, less totalizing, although in the case of nations such as Russia this is already employed by some fascists) and a kind of double resignification of the hegemonic forces such that the eye is on them as that of an insurgent, stealing the CIA’s copy of Mao’s guerilla tactics, a recognition of fascist creep and a kind of turnaround upon it. 

Indeed, there are induced bodies and processes that one can find in certain contemporary flows of musical and aesthetic generation. The well-armed Springfield XD toting war machines found in gangster rap with lean and LSD floating through their veins and AK-47s on the hip, organs of desire generated and deflated all at once by the eightball of executive-quality cocaine liberated from the pocket of a kidnapped businessman with his mouth duct taped shut, the ecstasy and agony of meth and ecstasy purchased at gay nightclubs once owned by the Mafia, the bleeding-edge of tumblrs with self-hating yandere anime girls surrounded by alprazolam and ketamine, how all of these aesthetics inform(ed) the vulture culture of vaporwave as well as its own self-reflective inquiry upon itself, the recognition of assholes proved to be as much by James Ferraro questioning what exactly vaporwave “is”, a strike upside the head to the NazBol irony posters who made one good mixtape exactly under the microgenre of Hardvapour before confusing themselves with Krokodil references when selling real heroin makes far more sense, a necessary bit of actual embryonic and transformative (as opposed to the fascist affected-obscurantist) psychedelica, so that one may substitute Terence McKenna for the Joe Rogan they currently entertain themselves mocking, one might move toward new means of militia-making, the recruitment for new war machines. Black and Lavender and White and Teal and Red Panthers collaborating against the police, anarchist banners flying from tanks and acting as unit emblems, circles of self-criticism with Maoists and Post-Leftists able to spend an entire half-hour talking without accusing the other of being a plant or liberal, a kind of combined-arms approach that acknowledges the opposite in the enemy, the embracing of supposedly degenerate cultural movements in their fascist forms, the roles of gay men and trans women and lesbian tradwives and cringeposting solipsistic subjectivities that excuse their own violence with the personal gain they see from it in the movements of nationalist, fascist, reactionary, and generally contemptible politics, one can indeed interpret movements in relation to study of shock, of development, of how the contemporary is informed by imagination of the past.

Questions regarding the place of Soviet Realism are best asked in a form of representation, the use of a wider act of questioning to gesture toward a kind of unsureness regarding exactly what the purpose of such art (or artlessness) functions as, a record for the ideal, of ideation in the present and realized through the reading of such artwork, the inclusion of certain events and bodies into a process of deep and concerted rectonition through this realist lens a reflection of their material consequence, one that affirms certain questions of what kind of memory “matters” when the subjective and immediate is seen as the basis of experience, the way in which the opposite, the abstract, holds a kind of power such that the ever-disappearing “present”, the disappearing “Real”, is best represented through paintings such as Guernica, the horror of fascist violence rendered as literal cat-and-mouse by Art Spiegelman, the means by which Eli Valley has taken on Spiegelman’s consciousness of fascist violence in the time of Trump (the sort of mainstream figure that the fascists adore) and represents it through a kind of grotesqueness that is at once genuinely revulsive and allegorical like the work of Junji Ito, the many means of representing provide experiences-of-experience of new orders. 

One must envision a militant Spring Breakers, the sort of unreality crafted toward a deeper “Real”, the horror of realizing exactly what is represented by that which one draws from coupled with a kind of earnest return only possible after ironic distancing, such that one confuses all senses of assessment until it is too late, the moment of revolution now at hand.

[ellssbellss]

whew! back to regular scheduled programming

did a lot of spring cleaning for this blog, i really hope guys like the new banners and such :))

IF ANYONE knows where i can find some tea cup/tea themed page breakers, please let me know! they would be the perfect finishing touch <3

[annathetrickster]

Hi! I pulled a Miciah on my free summon on the DD banner. She’s +HP -Def, that superbane hurts... I’m hoping to slot her into an “anti-team” I’m building (made of units with stuff like poison dagger and falchion etc.) and I was wondering if I should stick with her guard skill or give her a breaker? She’d be filling a mostly anti cav role since I already have anti armour, flier and infantry. 1/2

house-regan-unite said:The rest of the team is spring Kagero, kinshi Hinoka and regular Lucina (with tactics support, though I only have Res and Def atm). Thanks for the advice! 2/2

she doesn’t use her defense anyway so she’s best used as an enemy phase magic tank. i wouldn’t worry about her -DEF IV. that said if you want her as an anti-cav then you’d probably be better off with a breaker to give her some player phase viability as well.

[kova-killian]

Lady of Light episode 4 (NSFW)

Axelia pulls her sword from her back as she watches silhouettes darting around the horizon, large silhouettes with spikes on their backs. She quickly ties her hair out of the way and dismounts Alrune with the rest of the knights.

“I’m in trouble, you know where to go.” she whispers as she strokes his face.

Alrune’s ears lay back as he looks into her eyes for a moment, trying to decide if she was serious or not. He huffs at her and then darts off up a trail to the Dwarf mine as the Ogre’s close in on them.

“Don't let them sting you!” Drest yells as the Knights shift around nervously.

Axelia looks up at Thallan, his forehead full of worry wrinkles as he scans for an opening. Then he looks down at her and smiles trying to reassure her as the first Ogre growls at them, his heavy footsteps shaking the ground. Axelia grips her sword and takes a deep breath as Thallan effortlessly swipes his sword, sending the Ogre crumbling to the road. Like a spark in a powder keg, more Ogres spring from the surrounding hills.

Strike after strike Axelia blocks an Ogres attack. Her wrists throb with each blow to her sword but she keeps on her guard, her eyes trained on the Ogre’s weapon until she trips over a low bush. She's in the hills. . . alone. She swings hoping to hit him where it matters but the Ogre whips around trying to sting her with the spikes on his back. She throws herself to the ground and scrambles between the Ogre’s legs before darting for the road again.

Tripping over more low dry bushes, Pierre finds her first, striking down the Ogre before pulling her back through the chaos. She ducks around spikes and swinging swords until he nearly throws her down the road.

“Get to safety!” he snaps before whipping around, “go now!” he yells as he disappears into the battle.

She hesitates, backing towards the path up the mountain but a burning pain erupts in her back.

Shit!

She whips around stabbing her sword into the darkness behind a boulder, the Ogre crumbling to the floor, one of his spikes catching her chest and tearing her tunic.

“Commander!” Pierre’s voice rises above the chaos of metal against stone.

Axelia spins around. Black tendrils inch up Thallan’s arm as the muscles in his neck tense from the pain. She sheiths her sword, trying to calm her breathing she closes her eyes. “Stop!” she growls.

She snaps her eyes open, a neon blue fog holding the Ogre’s frozen, “silence.” she hisses as all the Ogres crumble to the ground choking as the fog illuminates their insides until the fog disappears and the Ogres lay quiet.

“My lady. . .” Pierre stares at the tear in her tunic, a blue glow matching the fog coming from under it.

She blinks, the glow slowly dissipates as her fear does. The knights stand staring at her for a moment before Thallan falls to his knees.

"Run to Pulet." Pierre says to her before darting off to help Thallan.

Axelia backs away again before running down the darkened dirt road. She slows for a moment stumbling over small stones sticking out of the compacted dirt. She pants and looks at the wound on her chest soaking her tunic. Her heart sinks as black veins inch their way across her skin.

I have to get to Pulet. . .

She takes a deep breath trying to calm her aching sides but darts off down the path again. Her lungs burn and her sides ache as she reaches the fork in the road, the dim lantern light of Pulet just out of reach. Her vision blurs but someone picks her up onto a horse.

"Duchess?" A guard of Pulet asks.

"Drest. . . The old Dwarf mines" She pants as the wounds on her back and chest throb.

The guard's eyes widen when he finally notices the blood on her tunic, "They were attacked! Go help the wounded." He snaps as more horses gallop back the way she came. "Hang on my lady." he says as his horse gallops through the gates.

Winding through the city's darkened streets, Axelia drifts in and out of consciousness. Catching glimpses of the castle as the guard carries her through the halls, she cringes as her body shifts in his arms and then onto a hard stone table.

“Leave her there, I have to extract the poison before laying her on a cot.” an elderly man's voice says.

“There are more coming, I'm not sure how many were injured.”

“Go fetch more doctors then,” the doctor gently moves the fabric of her tunic away from the wound on her chest, “her running here spread the venom through her.”

“Yes sir,” the guard says before the wooden door thunks shut.

The doctor works quietly, saying nothing to her as he examines her wounds for a moment before dragging a piece of gauze through the wound on her chest sending shooting pain into her neck and shoulders.

She cringes and grabs his arm, “Allow me to work please.” he gently says.

“I’m immune to the venom. . . just—”

“My Lady, I know you're immune, I can see the healing glow through your skin. Allow me to clean the wounds so you may heal yourself.”

“Sorry. . .” she whimpers as another wave of pain washes over her.

Again the doctor works silently, but her eyes finally adjust and his face becomes clear. His brows nearly touch one another as he works, his eyes swirling like a childs festival banner in the wind. He can see someone's magic when the magicless can’t.

The metal pincers he had been using clink against the stone table, “stay here for a moment to let some of the venom dissipate before I move you.” He gently places a cool cloth on her forehead and walks away.

The sound of the doctor filling a basin with water helps her fall asleep but only for a moment. The doctor's frantic voice wakes her. She jolts up to a room full of knights helping Thallan onto another stone table, his body tense with a leather strap in his mouth. Another doctor swoops in and then another to assist. Axelia pushes herself off the table, her legs giving away. Pierre whips around when he hears her and pulls her to her feet.

“Get me to the cabinet,” she grabs onto his tunic for more support as he quickly helps her to the cabinet full of magic herbs.

Grabbing a bowl, she drops a slimy dark green plant into it and then pours a bright white liquid on top. She crushes it up before grabbing dark red clay and then taking a deep breath, trying to steady her hands, she breathes a bright white fog into the concoction.

She steadies herself and steps into the frenzy behind the curtain. Thallan lay covered in sweat and blood from his wounds as his entire body convulses.

“None of that is going to work,” she says quietly.

“My lady?” Pierre leans down to her. “Hey, hang on,” he stops the doctors allowing Axelia to get to Thallan.

She grabs his hand, smearing the paste onto it before wrapping it with the bandages the doctors had laid out on the table.

The doctor that helped her earlier gently touches her shoulders, “I asked you to stay there for a while.”

“I couldn’t let him die,” she says with her hand on Thallan’s arm.

She lays her head on his chest and listens to his heartbeat return to normal, his entire body relaxing again as the dark veins slowly retreat to the wound in his hand. She tries lifting her head but her exhaustion keeps her there.

Pierre gently touches her hand, “thank you,” he whispers to her. “Go and rest, he’s okay now.”

“I. . . made the venom worse again. . .” she whimpers, the weight of her body more intense than before.

Pierre shoulders her weight, helping her to a cot under a large window. She cringes as he helps her pull her legs onto the bed as the doctor comes back over to her. Pierre and the other knights slowly filter out of the room and Thallan ends up in the cot next to her. She squeezes her eyes shut as the sun rises reflecting off the sheer white curtains. She scowls and blinks feeling the foot of her cot dipped down. Thallan sits, flexing his fingers waiting for her to wake.

“How long has it been?” she asks just above a whisper.

Thallan smiles, “it's been two days. I woke up yesterday and tried on the new armor.”

“Did anyone find Alrune?”

“Yes he’s being spoiled in the stables. They found most of our horses actually.” he gently touches her leg. She tries to sit up but Thallan panics, “no, please don’t move.”

“I'm fine really,” she says sitting up wearing only the spare tunic he had with him, “did you change my clothes?” she furrows her brow.

“No, I had one of the maid's change them. I bought you something warmer to wear the rest of the way. I might have overspent if I’m being honest.”

“Overspent? Didn't you just buy me one outfit?”

His cheeks flush as he scratches the back of his head looking away from her, “not exactly, I went to a few shops.”

“He spent most of the spare gold we had on clothes for you.” Pierre grumbles from the doorway.

“Why!” She looks at him wide eyed.

“I wanted you to be comfortable the rest of the way. And Cordelia didn’t let you bring anything,” Thallan chuckles.

“You did not need to do that.” Axelia sighs, “but thank you.”

His light hazel eyes scan her face before he looks at her now scarred shoulder, “was it you that made the blue fog?” he asks.

Her heart sinks, “yes. . . everyone was overwhelmed and I was stung and how fast the venom was moving up your arm—”

“You don’t just have the Chain Breaker do you?” he interrupts her.

“N. . . no. . .” she grips the blanket pulling it up towards her face.

Thallan gently pulls the blanket away, “you never need to fear me. Please don't fear me. The way your step mother treated you because of your magic will never happen again if I have any say.”

Her eyes dart around his face, “I. . . I can feel yours too. . . your magic.” she recoils waiting for him to be angry with her.

He smiles, his face instantly softening as he nods to Pierre who closes the door, “can you feel what I am?” he asks, Axelia shakes her head. “Want me to show you then?”

Axelia’s eyebrows raise slightly as he leans in closer to her. But then water begins pouring from his skin as crystal clear wings bubble out of his back, his skin darkening and the vine tattoos glowing the same color as her fog that killed the Rock Ogres. Axelia’s heart rattles in her chest as she gently touches his face, his eyes pitch black with just a ring of opalescent color shifting around inside. He looks at her for a second before looking at the cot again.

“You're an Ocean Fae,” she presses her forehead against his.

He looks at her again, “I don't scare you like this?”

"Not at all, I just didn't know what to expect."

As if his form was holding all his fears, it instantly splashes onto the floor revealing his normal self again. He gently squeezes her thigh but shakes his head and backs away from her.

"Drest gave us a room upstairs. You can take a bath and change your clothes and then come eat," He smiles before pushing Pierre out of the room.

Did he want to kiss me but stopped because of Pierre?

She nervously gets out of the cot and tries pulling Thallan’s tunic down to cover her legs but as he’s only a little taller than she is it was all in vain. She sighs, placing her hand on the door but it swings open, a maid standing there with new sheets.

“Oh! My apologies.” She looks Axelia up and down before chuckling to herself, “Lord Faekran doesn't understand that a young lady such as you shouldnt be wandering a castle full of knights in nothing but a tunic!” she yells making Thallan go quiet from the dining hall. “I’ll take you to the room. Come with me,” she smiles, wrapping the soft white sheet around Axelia’s shoulders.

The maid quickly whisks Axelia up the steep stairs and down a hallway more decorated than the rest of the castle. Leaving Axelia at the door, she scurries around the room filling the tub up with hot water again.

“Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back. I just need to collect some bath oils for a young lady and not a musty knight.” she smiles before closing the door behind her.

Axelia twists the sheet in her hands before dropping it to the ground and pulling the tunic over her head. Stepping into the tub she cringes as the hot water hits her still healing wound on her back.

“God damn it.” she snaps to herself but flinches as the door swings open hitting the wall.

“Are you in pain? I heard you in the hall.” Thallan asks with arms full of fabric.

“I’m nude!” she squeaks trying to hide herself as he kicks the door shut.

Thallan lays the bundle of fabric on the bed and kneels behind her, “let me see. It shouldn't hurt,” he says as she pulls away from him. He sighs and grabs her arm pulling her back towards him. “Stop it. Just let me see if you need the doctor again.”

She tries getting away, “I'm fine. Really!”

“Axelia, let me see.” his voice becomes stern.

He pulls her to sit on her knees, running his hand down the fresh scar on her back. His finger catches on something hard in her skin, making her gasp in pain. He reaches over to the vanity and grabs a letter opener. Pressing it against her skin, he pulls a sliver of a Rock Ogre spine from her scar. Her entire right side tenses up, making her cringe.

Thallan places the letter opener and spine on the ground before pressing his hand over the now open wound. His rough calloused fingers firmly rub her scar trying to calm her spasming muscles.

“Sorry, I didn't expect it to make your muscles react that way,” he cautiously moves his hand still, “is the one on your chest alright? No burning at all?”

She shakes her head and stares at her legs through the water. “They hurt when I first got in here. But they're okay right now.”

“And you? Do you feel alright? Those are deep wounds.” he tries pulling her closer to him but she pulls away.

“I feel okay, just a little tired and I'm really hungry.” she chuckles, still wriggling to get away from him.

“Do I repulse you that much?” his face drops in sadness.

Like a punch to the gut she takes a deep breath, “not at all. . .”

“Then why pull away?”

“Because. . . because I want to. . . um. . . I don't want—” she stammers and then huffs, annoyed, “I want you to be home.”

“You want me to be home?”

She groans, agitated with herself, “I want to be in your home, in your bed. . . because I know we’ll be safe there. . . and every time you get close I. . . think things I probably shouldn't.” She looks at him.

He smirks, thinking for a moment before he looks at her, “I apologize for my assumption.”

“Why do you assume I'm repulsed by you?”

“Most nobility are. I’m just a fishing peasant who got lucky.”

“But you're an ocean fae. That's not just some peasant.”

“Finish your bath and we’ll talk.”

“You don't want to join me?”

“Now my innocent lady, didn't you just say you wanted to be in my home before anything like that happens?” he smirks a cocky smirk and narrows his eyes.

“Good point. . .” she shrinks into herself.

He chuckles, “Unless you want to do something just for you.”

She furrows her brow. “like what?”

He rolls up the sleeves of his navy blue tunic and crouches down behind her. He runs his hands down her stomach and then on her thigh. She grabs his wrist as he inches closer.

He softly kisses her neck, “trust me, please.” he says between kisses.

“I've never. . .” she grabs his wrist harder.

“Yes or no.” he asks.

“Yes. . .”

Her body tenses waiting for pain, she squeezes his arm and takes in a sharp breath as his fingers enter her. But no pain comes. She leans her head back on his shoulder bobbing up and down with the movement of his hand.

"Relax." He whispers to her

She gently grabs his hair as he continues his rhythm and kisses until she feels him smile against her skin. Her heart slams into her chest and her face burns bright red as she scoots away from him embarrassed covering the glowing scale like marks inching up her hips and stomach.

"This is why I wanted to wait. . ." She looks away from him.

He simply smiles and pulls up his tunic showing his vine tattoos underneath, “you glow, I grow flowers when I want someone. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“So. . . you want me then?” she says quietly.

“In ways other than sex yes.”

“I’m going to sound naive but what do you mean?”

“Maybe we should talk after you're dressed. . .” he smiles, “I do like the freckles on your shoulders though, do you have them anywhere else?” He raises an eyebrow and playfully tries peeking at her.

“Oh go talk with Drest,” she scowls at him.

He chuckles and stands up as he rolls the sleeve of his tunic back down, “supper should be ready soon. I’ll meet you down in the dining hall.”

As Thallan leaves the room, the maid quickly enters with the bath oils and stares at the letter opener and Rock Ogre's spine confused, “I hate to ask, but did Lord Faekran hurt you?”

Axelia stares at the side of the tub absentmindedly.

“My lady?”

“Hm? Oh no, he took that out of my scar,” she shakes her head as the maid sits outside the tub on a stool.

“Mind if I wash your hair? It’s been so long since I've had a young lady to fawn over,” she smiles holding a dark purple glass bottle.

“Sure.” Axelia nods as the maid goes to work on her hair.

The maid scrubs her hair and rinses as Axelia sits thinking of nothing until the moment she and Thalan just had pops into her mind. Her cheeks burn hoping the maid can't see the slight glow from under the water. As the maid rinses the last of the oils from her hair, Axelia quickly reaches for the towel to cover herself as she stands.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed,” she says before leaving Axelia in the room again.

Axelia walks to the bed and lays all the clothes Thallan brought in for her flat on the bed but as she leans into to look at the expensive fabrics the glowing scales travel higher.

She opens the towel slightly and sighs loudly, “go away. . .” she snaps at herself.

She grumbles as she grabs the red riding dress but as she pulls the dress over her head, Thallan knocks on the door again.

“Axelia, are you clothed? I forgot something.” he slowly opens the door with an annoyed scowl on his face.

“Yes, I'm just tying the back.” She struggles with the ties on her back as he walks in and to the wardrobe in the corner.

“Want me to get the middle ones?” he asks as she curses under her breath.

“Would you? My arm is stiff and I can't reach it.”

She holds her hair out of the way as he tugs on the ties for a moment before he touches her waist, “are they supposed to go to your back?”

“Are. . . huh?” she spins around to him and then looks behind her in the vanity mirror, the glowing scales shining through her dress. “Oh no. . . I. . .” She looks at him embarrassed, “they won't go away.”

“Do you want me to leave you?” he smirks.

Her eyes dart around his face for a moment before she quickly grabs the back of his head and kisses him deeply. He picks her up, sitting her on the vanity before sliding the skirt of her dress up to her hips. He doesn't warn her this time but still gently pushes his fingers inside her. She tangles her hand in his hair and chokes back a moan as he lightly nibbles on her collarbone, his entire body heats up the longer he pleasures her.

Everything around them disappears, his body pressed against hers as he kisses her neck and chest. He kisses her in a way she's only imagined from secretly reading the romances of poets from far away lands. But then the feeling she’s only felt by herself once builds, she quiets another moan as she buries her face in the crook of his neck, her hand still tangled in his long curly black hair.

“Hey Commander,” Pierre drunkenly stumbles through the door, “you're missing dinner, where's that thing I asked you to bring down?” he finally looks up at them, his eyebrow raising as Thallan sits frozen for a second before he pulls Axelia’s skirt back down, “am I interrupting something?”

“No, nothing,” Thallan swallows hard before walking over to the wardrobe to look for the thing he started to before.

Axelia slowly lowers herself off the vanity, and checks her reflection for the scales before she pulls her boots on. She straightens her skirt and steps towards the door.

Thallan looks back at her, "I'll be right down," He smiles at her.

I can't believe that just happened.

Pierre didn't seem phased, how many times has he done that to someone?

"So, did I walk in on the beginning or the end?" Pierre's voice carries down the hall.

"Oh shut up." Thallan grumbles.

"Ah, beginning then."

Axelia flinches as the sound of a solid punch to the shoulder echoes.

"Don't mind those two." Drest meets her just before the stairs. "They act like siblings and Pierre knows too much about Thallan." He chuckles holding his elbow out for her to take.

She wraps her arm around his as they walk down the stairs, "Is Pierre. . ."

"Yes, he likes men."

"Does Thallan?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Why? Does it bother you?"

"No, I'm just trying to read their relationship a little. Pierre is protective over him and me to a degree."

"Pierre likes you my lady, it has very little to do with Thallan. He admires you greatly."

"Can I ask something?"

"Anything my lady."

"You seem to be close with Thallan also."

"Yes."

"When my father hired him, do you know what he said about me?"

"He thought you were older, maybe a year younger than himself. Especially when he heard you speak at a dinner, he's been enamored by you since then." He says as Axelia pulls away. "You coming inside my lady?" Drest tilts his head.

"I'm going to wait for Thallan." She smiles at him.

[feheroestips]

Quick overview

Camilla has invaded Hoshido in order to appear on the banner in a move which upset a lot of fans. Still she’s here and shes a red flier.... Considering we have only four in the game, one of which is also a seasonal event unit, its not hard to actually see why she’s got some good stuff going for her. On top of that she has solid stats all around which makes her good enough to fulfill a variety of roles.

Base kit

Kadomatsu like the other weapons grants +2def/res during combat, its nice but arguably she can use other blades much better. As for the rest of her kit, draconic aura is decent on her, there's better specials but it’ll do a nice amount. Def/Spd bond is a gimmicky skill but does let her hit 36 defence and 40 speed at neutral. That’s a incredible achievement considering you can add ivs to that as well. Finally ward fliers is a nice skill for flier emblem teams.

If you need a B skill, swordbreaker is a solid option as it helps her pick up KOs on a lot of the faster sword units out there, even with a 40 speed stat. Wings of mercy should also be considered as being able to warp to someone and actas their wall is a nice option to have considering her A skill. Reposition is the god tier assist ason all fliers.

Pros + Cons

+Able to use a variety of swords

+Decent stats all around

+Being a red flier there's not a lot of competition for a team spot

-Low res means there's no hope of living blue mages

-Even her base defence won’t save her from brave archers

-Limited edition means its harder to +10 her

Partners

Ironically the best partner in flier emblem for Camilla is well... Camilla. The spring version is able to run gronnraven to handle bow users while the standard Camilla, if running distant counter, can handle blue mages quite well. Otherwise high res green mages are appreciated.

Suggested set(s)

It’s Camilla!!!

+atk/spd -res/hp

Slaying edge+/ Brave sword+, reposition, Bonfire/draconic aura

Slot A = Swift sparrow, Darting/death blow, Life and death,

Slot B = Sword breaker, desperation.

Slot C = Guidance, flier buff, or any c skill

Sacred seals: Guidance, atk+3, spd+3, close defence.

Weapon Refinery: This only applies to the Slaying edge but +spd is the best option, however if running quick riposte you may prefer +def

Camilla comes bursting down the door with a blade of your choosing to slaughter those who harm her summoner. The choice of brave sword vs slaying edge is up to the user. Personally I prefer Slaying edge as it has roughly the same Kos asBrave sword but offers better defensive play, something which Camilla shines at. Slaying edge can also be refined for more speed and thus you can reach 45 speed on initiation. Infact with it she can become a budget Tana. Swift sparrow to be offensive and then using close defence as a ss you can tank a lot of hits.. Ideally though in her A slot you want to increase your offence as much as possible, while preserving your amazing defence, only use life and death if you plan on using brave sword. In almost all cases +spd is the better iv but +atk works too while res and hp are the safest drops. If you suffer from -def use draconic aura as she can easily hit past 50 with her A slot.

Ready,Steady, Camilla

+atk,def, res* - spd/hp

Slaying edge+, reposition, bonfire/ignis

Slot A = Steady/fierce stance, close defence, Distant counter*

Slot B = Quick riposte

Slot C = any c skill

Sacred seals:  close defence, def+3, iotes shield*

Weapon refinement: +def is the ideal choice here, to help improve her bulk.

Camilla loses most of her offensive presence here to make a solid red wall, however a expensive one at that. Slaying edge is the best option to reduce cool downs as she’ll want to use bonfire/ignis. Steady or fierce stance is up to the summoner, allowing her to boost her most important stats in this set, while close defence is another option. Quick riposte means she can drop her speed in order to preserve her other stats and still double.

Now eagle eyed readers might notice the * and this is because its very specific. With a +res nature Camilla gain +4 points instead of 3 placing her at 27 which is ideal for distant counter and lets her handle green mages very well. On top of this she can use Iotes shield to live a select few archers if not -def however she’ll die to most brave bow sets. But with that iv she can KO every green unit, bar brave ike at base if attacked. Its worth noting if you feel like your ivs of +res -spd were terrible.

[sorenlysander]

My work-in-progress Shanna!

So about two months ago I ran out of Desperation fodder and had a lot of units who desperately needed it. I had basically convinced myself that Shanna was avoiding me because she knew I was just going to sacrifice her again, so I made a promise to myself. If I got one Shanna with workable IVs I would promote her to 5★ and fully build her. 

Then a few days ago I managed to pull this one with completely neutral IVs. I looked at her and said “Yeah, this is gonna be as close to optimal as it’ll get(because I’ve been continuously pulling +HP -Favorable stat for literal months now). Fast forward to today when I finally got the last few feathers and finally promoted her and refined her Killer Lance into Slaying Lance. But then something unthinkable happened.

While I was trying to summon Kagero on the new spring banner I ended up getting pity-broken by Jaffar(unsurprisingly he was -Atk +hp, so thanks FEH). 

Now I usually don’t get pity-breakers, what usually happens is I summon at least one focus unit on a desired banner or I get to a high pity-rate and then the banner runs away with it and my money. In a fit of unjustified anger I leveled him to 40 to get his confession and then promptly sacrificed him to our Sprightly Flier here. 

Was it a petty thing to do? Kind of. Do I regret sacking a rare 5★ unit? No, because if I’m being completely honest I was never going to use him for anything anyway.

[localocksmithnearme]

Dodge Ignition Repair & Key Replacement Newark NJ

Dodge Ignition Repair & Key Replacement Newark NJ - CALL (973)200-4870

http://www.newarkkeyreplacement.com/dodge.html

If you broken your key in the ignition keyhole, wish to program a smartkey or got your key-fob stolen, glancing for a local 24hr Dodge key-smith that can help quickly, you should look no further. Newark Key Replacement dispense road-side car lock smith services in Newark NJ and surrounding area 24 hours every day . Pronto exceedingly all cars are arrayed with anti-theft infrastructure which in point of fact signifies that the key need to be correctly compiled to the car main computer and some cars grants foundation for control board key copy. Our thoroughly trained workmanship are extremely knowledgeable and can rekey and program any sort of vehicle ignition, key  lock barrier, avoiding the tow truck to the dealer.

Dodge lost key made in Newark NJ

If you broken your ignition key in the key-tunnel or lost all your car keys, you have several alternatives to procure a newish set of Dodge key replacement:

Driving to the Newark NJ regional dealer is in some cases seemingly a cost-effective or snap possibility to construct a brand-new key by the vehicle ID number, but in several instances (like GM) the dealership need you to show a confirmed motor vehicle registration or title with an identical street address on your ID. In several other circumstances, the dealer do not have access to previous key codes by the VIN (like Lincoln, Mercury and Mazda), the dealership able to generate recovery keys just for designs from the last 10 years.

As well as the restriction above, in countless manifestations, your car is locked on the expressway in in a backwoods area, with a broken key in the ignition or locked with the key in the truck and to favor the dealer will combine approximately additional hundred dollars for the tow truck service.

About Dodge keys and locks instrument

Dodge is a United States auto maker constructing spectrum of trucks, minivans, vans, prevailing vehicles and SUVs. From 1998  Dodge keys and locks instrumentation operates on a transponder chip technology and in 2007 accept the Keyless Go as the keyless entry device and push button start ignition concept for practically all of its vehicles.

The chips transponder key sends an extremely low-level digital message to the vehicle that will only be identified if the right programmed key is in the switch, elseways the fuel supply and the car wouldn't fire up and could be locked for 5 minutes.

This anti-theft infrastructures is assisting the car owners, insurance companies and car makers in stopping crime and save billions globally, yet compensating stolen, lost and broken keys or even copying an extraneous key is way more pricey.

Ignition lock repair

Your car ignition switch grants power from your battery to mightily all of your car electrical components and compose of tiny mechanical and electrical modules that normally bias to bear out by cause of heavy traffic using  for many years.  

If your Dodge ignition key wont turn at all, ignition key turn freely in the ignition switch, key caught in the ignition and ignition key is hard to turn in the ignition, it is probably a manifestation of worn out ignition or key due to a broken springs, high temperature or loose cylinder pin that can easily cause the ignition cylinder to fail, restricting you from running your vehicle.

While on the road, damaged ignition cylinder could shut the engine down during driving, which may be absolutely hazardous, hence we recommend owners not to make unauthorized alterations to the ignition lock by non-experience person that might going to induce a greater hardship and liability.

The most a person may do facing ignition cylinder  complications is to verify you are actually trying to turn on your own car and call a car lock man to arrive to your juncture to repair, reprogram  replace the key or ignition which will priced as around $150–$325.

Transponder chip key cut and program

2 decades ago car-makers world wide replaced almost all of their vehicle key and lock instruments to electric vehicle anti theft, transponder chip key or PAT keys accommodating a modest chip normally hidden in the key banner or blade and moreover ECU.

Even though chipped key is absolutely pragmatic, duplicating is no longer a fast, lowest possible cost commute to the regional dealership or hardware store. Occurrences as misplacing your proximity key at the beach, breaking a flip key remote or stolrn transponder chipped key, sit on top of cutting a blank key, the key need to be programmed to the car by a suitable programming machine done by a lock-smith or at the dealer-ship  and will cost almost 180-600$ base on model, maker and year.

Dodge smart-key

Push-to-start ignition system are furnished with a fob that a car owner can hide in the briefcase, purse or pocket, or everywhere within close proximity to the receiver in the vehicle.

The chip in the proximity key transfer a unique low level radio-frequency indication message to the engine control unit, which then validates that the match indication message has been transfered and allows the user to remotely close and open the car door locks besides click a toggles on the dash-board to fire up or goes off the car without using a key or pressing a toggles on the fob.

While smart keys and push-to-start ignition has become vastly available, even on mid-level cars, these technologies haven't yet reached the status of automotive prerequisite as power windows and door locks, nonetheless, the comfort factor is a a deal breaker for numerous smart keys buyers.

Copy vs lost car keys

The good old days of outplacing a vehicle key by obtaining a low-cost metal bladed blankey and cut at the locksmith or a hardware store  are bygone. Most new cars supplied with transponder keys and immobiliser in addition to smart keys and push-start ignition.

The keys enclose an enclosed chip which interacts with the car main computer in the vehicle. If the engine control module doesn't identify the programmed key, the car will not start.

This new electrical lock and key system add extra security and convenience and prooves to be truly useful anti-theft instrument, still outplacing them if they get lost or stolen must be done by the dealership or a mobile locksmith with an exclusive Dodge key programmer and diagnostic tools and ordinarily is quite costly.

24hour vehicle lock-out

If you’re facing the unfortunate circumstance of locking your car keys inside the car while shopping in the corner store or late night in a dark ally, our on-demand car lock out specialist laborers will arrive at your location in no time to expertly unlock your car door for any sort of European, Japanese, Asian or German vehicle in a flash, put you back in your vehicle and restore your tranquility of mind.

Car locks adjusting

Newark Key Replacement is honoured to transfer all kind of Dodge converse services at your side to substitute a busted, misplaced or sacked keys. Exceedingly all contemporary car are fitted with electrical keys and locks instrumentation and the operation enforced to get your lock refitted ought to contain the good decoder for the certain car. Instead of dragging your car to the dealer, just grasp the buzz and call our main office in Newark NJ and one of our car qualifying employees will be with you as soon as possible with a unstationary work van at par with contemporary ignition parts, key cutters, blank keys and programmers ready to clarify any kind of emergency cases.

Last word

If you’ve ever went through the disturbing scenario when you locking or losing the keys to your vehicle, you perhaps understand how valuable it is to have a honored and a highly qualified local lock-smith company viable. We conduct the expedient services viable 24 hours a day 7 days a week and the useful plan of action and qualified locksmiths commissions our team members to be the leading motor vehicle key-lock provisioners in town. . If you are searching for Buy keys online Newark Key Replacement.

[themainelylilliancblog]

In this first cartoon, the image depicts Donald Trump sitting at a small desk, with the American flag behind him. Also behind him is a large seemingly glass and steel case, with a hammer attached to the side. The case is labeled “ In Case of Recession” , with many foam fingers with the word “ Blame “ written on them. Overall, this cartoon instantly gives the reader the impression that the person who created it is not a Trump fan, as they are commenting on the ways in which Trump approaches several challenges/problems that America has faced or will potentially face. This cartoon uses several persuasive techniques. The first is symbolism. The symbolism in this cartoon is the glass case. A glass case like this is usually used in emergency situations. For example, fire extinguishers may be placed in a case that says “ in case of emergency break glass “ . In this case, the cartoonist uses an analogy to compare a common emergency situation to the state of America being in a recession. The “ fire extinguisher “ in this case, however, are the pointing fingers titles “blame”. This means the cartoonists sees Trumps savior as blaming others for problems. The cartoonist also uses labeling in this to make it clear that that is what the case is intended for. The facial expression of Trump also shows a sinister, bored look to him, not a happy smiling face. I believe this cartoon is persuasive because it is fairly accurate. Historical perspective shows us that he often blames other countries, leaders, and citizens of this country for his faults.

In this political cartoon, two men are depicted. Standing on the left is a young boy who has a backpack filled with what seems to be folders and homework. The older man on the right has a very large backpack, that is overwhelming his body. Labelling is used in this cartoon as both characters have writing on them, the younger with a shirt that says “k-12” and the older with one that says “ college” . The backpack of the older man says “ DEBT”. His speech bubble says “ Just think of Yourself as ‘In Training’ “ . These labels are helpful because they clearly depict the issue surrounding education and college debt in America. Many students are overwhelmed with paying for school, and the government has not offered nearly enough help for this problem. The creator also used exaggeration to really show the true burden college graduates are facing with debt by making the backpack so much larger than the man holding it. The advice the older man is giving to the child is a warning, as the younger child is already struggling with work on his back. This may also have another meaning that young children are already suffering with the pressure of school. I find this cartoon to be very persuasive and powerful, as this is an issue that has significantly increased in the 21st century as education becomes even more expensive and unavailable to individuals hoping to go to college.

In this image, we have a family sitting in a living room. The father is in the left chair, with the song standing facing him, and the mother sitting reading a newspaper. Labeling and irony are two main persuasive techniques used in this cartoon. The father seems to be teaching his son a lesson, abotu how experience is important, will get you far in life, and earn you an honest career. His mother tells him to ignore his fathers words, as she reads a newspaper that announces Betsy DeVos with no experience in education as the new secretary of education. This time period during her announcement was very controversial, as millions took to social media to show their anger that someone who has no interest in education or fixing educational issues in the U.S suddenly became in charge of a huge part of our country. The irony lies in the fact that experience is something that is valued highly in our society, yet someone in our government in such a high position does not even possess that quality. The creator of this comic most likely is frustrated with this decision.

This cartoon is especially relevant to our current state. The image shows several beachgooers having a fun day at the beach. The beach is littered with bottles as the people party under a banner that says “ Pandemic Party “ . The shirts of the people say “ who cares “ , “ big deal “ , and “ No Fears” . On the upper left hand corner, the title says “ Spring Break ( For Morons ) “ . This is an example of labelling that the cartoonist used. It makes the meaning and reference very clear : the florida spring break uprise. During the earlier months of the COVID 19 outbreak, news stations reported images of spring breakers partying and flooding the beaches down in florida, with no regards to social distancing and personal protective gear. This infuriated Americans everywhere, especially essential personnel who were and still are fighting the frontlines of the virus to keep people safe and healthy. The carelessness is what the cartoonists shows specifically. The irony used in the image comes from the coronavirus molecule that is being played with by the beach goers as if it is a beach ball. They claim they don’t care or the virus wont affect them, but during this crisis many were affected from attending the open beaches at the time. I think the creator is trying to show the low morals and little empathy that has been established by many people during this pandemic.

Another COVID related political cartoon, the most significant persuasive technique used by the cartoonist is symbolism. The image shows a flag being raise that says “ Health Workers “ atop a falling “city” that has big block that is titled “ COVID 19 outbreak “ . The workers are wearing full hazmat outfits with masks. The flag they are raising has a ventilator, IV drip , and monitor attatched/around it. The stance of the workers are the same position and resemble the extremely famous photograph called “ Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima “ by Joe Rosenthal. The famous image depicts marines raising a flag during WWII upon a mountain during a battle. This showed the resilience of marines during this time. The artist here is praising instead, the resilience of health care workers, and their dedication to powering through these insane, scary times. Even without the labels, the image would be easily interpreted by anyone who has seen what is happening in the world today. I like this cartoon a lot, because it gives me a sense of hope that we will eventually rise above this .