#Cutting-edge eye examination tools

[tatumeyecare5]

Exploring Advanced Eye Exam Technologies: What's New in Vision Care

Introduction

A. The Evolution of Eye Exams B. Significance of Advanced Technologies in Vision Care

Traditional Eye Exams vs. Advanced Technologies

A. Overview of Traditional Eye Exams B. Limitations of Traditional Methods C. Transition to Advanced Technologies

Cutting-Edge Devices in Eye Exams

A. Optical Coherence Tomography (OCT) 1. How OCT Works 2. Applications in Diagnosing Eye Conditions

B. Wavefront Technology 1. Understanding Wavefront Mapping 2. Customized Vision Correction with Wavefront Technology

C. Retinal Imaging 1. Importance of Retinal Imaging 2. Detecting and Monitoring Eye Diseases

Artificial Intelligence in Vision Care

Integration of AI in Eye Exams B. AI-driven Diagnostics 1. Enhancing Accuracy in Prescription 2. Early Detection of Eye Diseases

Smart Contact Lenses

A. Overview of Smart Contact Lens Technology B. Real-time Monitoring of Eye Health C. Future Implications and Innovations

Virtual Reality Eye Exams

A. Immersive Experiences in Vision Testing B. Benefits of Virtual Reality for Patients C. Challenges and Future Developments

3D Printing in Eyewear

A. Customized Eyeglasses with 3D Printing B. Advantages for Patients with Unique Prescription Needs C. Sustainability in Eyewear Production

Telemedicine in Vision Care

A. Remote Eye Exams and Consultations B. Accessibility and Convenience for Patients C. Ensuring the Quality of Telemedicine Eye Care

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

A. What is Optical Coherence Tomography (OCT)? B. How does Wavefront Technology improve vision correction? C. Can AI accurately diagnose eye conditions? D. What are the benefits of smart contact lenses? E. How does virtual reality enhance the eye exam experience? F. Is 3D printing a sustainable option for eyewear? G. Are remote eye exams as effective as in-person exams?

Conclusion

A. The Future of Eye Exams: A Blend of Technology and Expertise B. Encouraging Regular Eye Check-ups in the Technological Era

Exploring Ethical Considerations

A. Privacy Concerns in AI-driven Eye Exams 1. Data Security and Patient Confidentiality 2. Striking a Balance between Innovation and Privacy

B. Informed Consent in Telemedicine 1. Ensuring Patients Understand Remote Examination Risks 2. Legal Implications for Informed Consent in Virtual Eye Care

User Experience in Advanced Eye Exams

A. Designing Patient-Friendly Interfaces 1. Importance of User Experience in Eye Care 2. Minimizing Anxiety and Maximizing Engagement

 The Role of Healthcare Professionals

A. Adapting to Technological Changes 1. Training Healthcare Providers on New Technologies 2. Collaboration between Technological Innovators and Optometrists

Regulatory Landscape of Advanced Eye Exam Technologies

FDA Approvals and Regulations 1. Ensuring Safety and Efficacy 2. Challenges in Regulating Rapidly Evolving Technologies

Future Innovations on the Horizon

A. Exploring Research and Development in Vision Care 1. Nanotechnology in Eye Exams 2. Potential Breakthroughs in Vision Restoration

Global Perspectives on Advanced Eye Care

A. Disparities in Access to Advanced Technologies 1. Bridging the Gap in Technological Accessibility 2. Initiatives for Global Vision Health

Cost Considerations for Patients

A. Affordability of Advanced Eye Exams 1. Insurance Coverage for Technologically Advanced Eye Care 2. Balancing Cost and Quality of Vision Services

Public Perception of Advanced Eye Exam Technologies

A. Addressing Misconceptions about New Technologies 1. Building Trust in AI and Virtual Eye Exams 2. Communicating Benefits to Skeptical Patients

Collaborations and Partnerships in Vision Care

A. Industry Collaboration for Technological Advancements 1. Partnerships between Tech Companies and Eye Care Professionals 2. Mutual Benefits of Collaboration in Advancing Eye Care

Advocacy for Technological Equity in Eye Health

A. Promoting Inclusivity in Vision Care 1. Advocacy for Equal Access to Advanced Eye Technologies 2. Ensuring Technological Equity in Eye Health Initiatives

This extensive outline covers a wide range of aspects related to advanced eye exam technologies, ensuring a comprehensive and engaging exploration of the topic.

Tatum Eyecare is North Phoenix’s premier family eye care center. We’ve spared no expense to create the most pleasant, comfortable patient experience… including the finest furnishings, the best selection of prescription eyeglass frames, the most cutting-edge technology, and the most outstanding team of industry professionals. Come see why the choice for family eye care in the Valley has never been clearer.

[beapeas]

Retreat

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Work Count: 1k

Summary: After returning from a mission, an injured Bucky hides away from everyone to take care of himself. When it comes to getting ready for bed, he needs a litttle help/

It had been a long week for everyone. With back to back missions the team was worn out and not performing their best because of it. You sat out today’s mission, instead spending your day in Tony’s workshop, fixing up some equipment. It was supposed to be an easy one anyways. You sat perched on a stool, soldering two pieces of metal together. The room had nearly gone dark since the sun had set over the city, but you were too in it to notice. It wasn’t long before you heard doors opening and footsteps stomping over your head. They were slow and heavy, seemingly dispersing across the building. You quickly set your tools down and ran up the stairs, eager to hear everyone’s reports.

It seemed as if everyone had already retreated to their rooms. Normally after a simple mission like this, everyone came home with adrenaline pumping, ready to swap stories around the table until everyone’s energy finally faded for the night. But today was too quiet. You bump into Steve and Natasha quietly chatting in the hallway, both with their eyebrows knit together and their voices hushed.

“Hey,” you interrupted. “How did it go? Is everything all right?” The pair turned to face you, and Steve sighed. You wanted to ask where Bucky went. If he was alright. But that would just be too obvious. The two of you had been teetering between friends and something more for months and Steve knew that, but you wanted to keep some dignity.

“Yeah, the mission was a success. But could you go check on Bucky? He took the brunt of it,” Steve asked. You nodded cautiously and turned on your heels, heading for Bucky’s room. He had a tendency to get beat up on a job, then hide away and lick his wounds alone. Leaving everyone to just guess he’s okay and hope he’ll leave his room for food. Steve knew, and everyone knew, that you were the one he was least likely to push away. You softly knocked on his door.

“Bucky?” No response. You carefully push the door open, half expecting to be turned away. Steve wasn’t kidding. Bucky sat on the edge of his bed staring straight forward. He didn’t look up when you walked in, giving you time to examine him further. He had a nasty cut on the side of his face accompanied by bruises dotted along all of the exposed skin you could see. There was dried blood around his hand, though you weren’t sure whose. His metal arm was discarded on his dresser, long forgotten about. You knew he wasn’t going to want to talk. But he was in one piece. 

“Why don’t you take a shower, Buck?” Showering was the first thing you did after a mission. It was the only way you could move on with your day or get into bed. You thought he could use the reset. At this suggestion, he looked up to meet your eyes. His face was blank, clouds behind his eyes. He shook his head. You nodded yours, insisting he took your advice on this one. “Come on, I’ll get it started.” Without waiting for a response, you crossed into his attached bathroom and started running the water, holding your hand out in the stream until it turned warm. Satisfied, you walked back to Bucky and reached your hand out for him. Despite his earlier protests, he took your hand and pulled himself up. “Go on, I’ll grab you some clean clothes.” He silently walked away, leaving you to rummage through his dresser. 

After grabbing a t-shirt, shorts, and clean boxers, you went to set them outside of the bathroom door. You were surprised to find it still open, with Bucky standing right in front of it, still in his dirty clothes. His hand gripped the hem of his shirt, wincing as he tried to pull it off. The few inches of skin that he managed to reveal were black and blue, making you shudder.

“Okay, okay, let me help you,” you said gently. Bucky would never ask for help. He probably didn’t want help. But from you, he’d accept it. You tentatively grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head, careful not to bump any bruised skin. You fought yourself not to stare. He was able to get out of his pants alone, leaning on you as he stepped out of them. He kept his underwear on, already exceeding his limit of vulnerability for the month.

You helped him step into the shower where he finally took a breath. His shoulders relaxed in the thick steam. You turn to leave him alone and give him the privacy you were sure he wanted.

“Wait,” he finally spoke. “Can you stay?” His voice was raspy, like he had been yelling a lot today. You nodded simply, glimpsing down at his arm which was outstretched to you. At his invitation, you slipped off your sweat pants and shirt, stepping into the shower in only your undergarments. You’d never been close with Bucky like this before, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instinctively, you reached for the soap, rubbing it across Bucky’s shoulders and arms. You were careful not to hurt him, intently wiping away any dirt, blood, and sweat. No one said anything. The only sound was the water hitting the tile floors and swirling down the drain. 

After ten or so minutes of this, Bucky turned to face you. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you were definitely surprised when he wrapped his arms around you and melted into your embrace, resting his forehead on your shoulder. He wasn’t usually an affectionate person, let alone touchy or cuddly. You held him, rubbing his back as your mind swirled with questions you couldn’t ask. What happened on the mission? Why was Bucky the only one who came back black and blue? You stayed there until the water turned cold.

Once the two of you finally got out of the shower, you patted him dry with a towel and helped him get into his clothes before doing the same for yourself. Bucky still didn’t stay much and neither did you, but the storm in his eyes had faded. You’d take that as a win. You didn’t wait for him to ask you to stay the night. You crawled in next to him, pulling the covers up high. This time you leaned into Bucky, silently praying this peace between you two could stay for a little longer. Bucky found your hand under the covers, squeezing it.

“You know Sam is gonna bully me forever if he finds out about this,” Bucky mentioned. You quietly chuckled, both at his joke and out of relief that he was starting to act like himself again.

“My lips are sealed,” you replied as you settled in for the night.

[maybemaleksentmeasakindness]

Whittling

Summary - You and Liam have an arrangement of sorts. You patch him up and he makes sure you sleep. It's fine, right? Just two pals, helping each out.

A/N - There is cursing (this is your warning). As always, these characters and places don't belong to me. This is me making up for the lack of Liam Mairi fics in the world. 2k words.

Your POV

A soft light filtered through the curtains of your room. You had watched it since the moment you’d woken up, moving across the shelf where Liam’s carving sat and toward where your toes were tucked away at the edge of the bed. You had been up for a few hours and might’ve gotten out of bed if there wasn’t a beautiful blonde man lying in your bed beside you. Instead, you settled with sitting up against the headboard.

When you’d woken up Liam was dead asleep, one arm slung half-heartedly over your middle with not much space between your bodies, considering the bed was technically only made for one person. You pondered if whoever designed the rooms considered how much time some people spent in their peer’s bed, and if they perhaps did this to try and curb that habit. You chuckled quietly, considering how Liam might simply take it upon himself to take his skills with wood and a few tools to the next level and make a larger bed frame so you both could be comfortable. But that would mean admitting that you aren’t just extra good at healing his wounds, and he wasn’t extra good at noticing your exhaustion. That he just showed up at your room at night to clean him up. That he knew you weren’t getting sleep and insisted on staying the night. Just two peers, two friends, caring for each other because a larger bed frame made feelings real. Too real. 

A soft snore pulled you from your thoughts as you tugged Liam’s still sleeping form against your body, letting your fingers trace the rebellion relic around his wrist. A low groan left Liam, barely aware of the touch. Your finger traced up the mark, over his arm. It didn’t feel fair to make children suffer for their parents' choices. Liam shifted slightly, but you didn’t stop, fingers tracing higher. Liam tucked himself closer to you with another groan. Your body shook slightly with laughter. 

“Good morning, Mr. Mairi,” you teased.

“You should be sleeping right now,” Liam mumbled back, eyes still closed. “And don’t call me that.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Not that you could sleep much these days. Just because you had a decent chance with a dragon and blade didn’t mean you were free of the terrors that came with it. 

Liam responded by tugging you down beside him, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

A tension you didn’t know you were holding in your body seemed to ease up slightly in response before you tucked yourself closer to him, tangling your legs under the sheets. The skin of your face tingled as you felt Liam’s breath fan over it. It was warm and inviting, while giving an odd sensation. A pause, Liam’s eyes still hadn’t opened. “We could get an early breakfast,” you suggested, cutting through the silence.

“I told you I was going to help you get more sleep, and that’s what I’m doing.” Liam responded. He opened his eyes for a moment, examining you carefully. 

You smiled before placing yourself closer to Liam. You wanted to say something, to fill the pause. It’s not that you completely disliked the silence but it was more time to run around in circles and for you to do something stupid like kiss him. Ask him what exactly all of this was. “Liam?” 

“Mmm?” Liam hummed out in response, eyes still closed, both arms around your middle. 

You chuckled slightly realizing you had nothing more to say. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to say your name.”

“Sleep,” was Liam’s only response.

It wasn’t that easy, but you would try. If not for yourself, for him. Liam was aware of the whittling he was doing with his carvings, just not the whittling he was doing to your heart. Carving out a Liam-spaced home. 

Liam’s POV

Liam often wondered if there was ever a day he didn’t need something patched up if he would still show up at your door, if you would even let him in. But they were Riders in training, there would always be something to patch up. That always seemed to occupy Liam’s mind. Walking to your room at night. Sitting as you patched him up. Falling asleep next to you. Waking up next to you. 

It was nearly his first thought when he woke up as you pulled him tighter against you. He groaned slightly, not feeling ready to be up, and wanting you to be asleep. Liam, too tired to actually say anything, decided just to let out a low groan. A graon meant to represent the earliness and his displeasure with you being awake. Liam felt your fingers glide up from his wrist, up his arm in intricate patterns. For just a moment he thought you were drawing a picture when he realized it wasn’t any sort of free form. You were tracing his rebellion relic again. He wondered for a few moments what it would be like to wake up in his own bed, no fingers tracing up the marking on his skin. Liam had grown so accustomed to waking up beside you. He just needed an excuse to come call on your meticulous healing skills every night. What would happen if one day he made it out without some injury to be taken care of? What then? Would he still be invited into your room, your bed? The first night you’d ever spent sharing a bed was the best night of sleep in Liam’s life. 

Liam groaned at the thought of losing this opportunity to share a bed with you, preferring your warmth. He curled his body against your’s slightly, as if doing that wouldn’t let you escape, or perhaps his warmth would convince you back to sleep—–which would let him fall back asleep. 

“Good morning, Mr. Mairi,” you said, a clear teasing in your voice. He hated when you called him that, like he was your superior. “And don’t call me that.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he heard you respond. 

Liam let out a faint grunt before selecting that asking you nicely was going to get you to try and sleep. He pulled you down so you weren’t sitting up anymore, his body pressed to yours. Liam gently pressed his lips just under your hairline, half expecting you to complain that you didn’t need sleep and you weren’t a baby, but it didn’t come. Instead a soft silence. Liam could feel you curl up against him, tangling your legs underneath the sheets. And for a split second Liam wondered what it might be like to fall asleep, legs tangled every night with you, no need for your healing skills beforehand. Just two people needing each other to sleep. Some part of that was scary, that he had to admit that he needed you as much as you needed him. That he needed you more than just for the night, he needed you all the time––alive and kicking ass. 

Your voice came echoing through Liam’s thoughts. “We could get an early breakfast.”

Liam would’ve shaken his head if you both weren’t tucked together perfectly like two puzzle pieces that would fall apart if one of them moved. “I told you I was going to help you get more sleep, and that’s what I’m doing,” he said with a huff. From a sliver of vision he could see you looking wide awake, but it was clear you needed to rest longer. He felt some relief as you smiled and managed to wiggle ever closer against him. 

If there was even an ounce of alcohol in his system Liam might’ve just kissed you right then and there, but something was stopping him. What if one day you didn’t need this? What if one day Liam would be turned away after you’d patched him up? What then? What if these feelings he felt for you weren’t mutual? 

“Liam?” There was your stupid, beautiful voice again, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He screwed his eyes shut, knowing if he opened them he’d just stare straight at those gorgeous lips of yours. Liam needed you to both shut up and get out of his sight and to always be talking, always be in his line of sight. You were maddening.  Stupidly so. Liam restrained a groan before letting out a soft, hum. He was convinced if he tried to do anything more a long trail of words would escape his mouth before it was too late. 

“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to say your name.”

LIam chose to quickly mumble out, “sleep.” He paused a moment before cracking one eye open to see you had closed yours. His gaze fell to a few of the carvings he had mde for you a while ago. All of them scattered around your room. Your dragon, a small bunny placed beside each other. Liam felt you shift slightly, face tucking into his neck. His fingers tensed against your back for a split second before relaxing. He could do this. He just needed to clear his head. 

“Liam?”

He looked at you before he realized he was gripping your back tighter than he meant. His eyes followed your face as you lifted your head slightly. “Oh, sorry.”

You only shook your head slightly. 

Liam scanned your eyes then your lips. Your stupid, perfect, gorgeous lips. Liam swore your face got a few inches closer to his. Shit.

Suddenly a knock came at the door and Liam sat up quickly.

“I know you’d never forget about me,” Ridoc calls from the other side of the door.

Liam tenses, eyes scanning to you as you mutter a litany of curses, jumping out of your bed. Liam’s very aware of his hand resting on your lower back as long as it physically could before you were running around your room. 

“Sorry! Give me a minute!” You shouted from the door before glancing at Liam. “Told Ridoc I’d study with him.”

Liam nodded before realizing he ought to get out of your bed and leave, though he knew exactly what that would look like. He watched and waited as you dressed as quickly as you could before swinging the door open.

Ridoc stood there with a shit-eating grin before trying to stop it. “Good morning, Liam. Didn’t expect to see you,” an unnecessary pause as he scanned the both of you, “here.”

You stepped out of your room, smacking Ridoc’s arm in response. He winced, acting like a wounded puppy as you pulled at his arm giving Liam the space to leave. He quickly made his way to the door, unsure how to say goodbye to you. Normally he’d happily walk out into the hallway with his arm around someone’s shoulder. But not today, not this time. You were different. He had too much emotional attachment here. Before Liam could make any more decisions you pulled him into a hug. As you both pulled away from each other he felt that tension from earlier, the moment just before Ridoc was knocking on your door. Before he could think or act on it, Ridoc was half pulling you down the hallway towards someone else’s room. Liam didn’t stand around waiting to find out who, he just briskly walked towards his own room, hearing your laughter just as the door was shut behind him. 

He could still feel your warmth, see your proximity to him, feel how close he was to getting a taste of those lips. Liam shook his head. He needed to clear it. 

Liam spent an hour doing that, trying to do anything and everything to get you out of his head; push-ups, bathing, studying. Nothing worked. He finally gave up, sitting down with a small piece of wood and a tool, and began to whittle away. Whittling your face from memory.

[catn4pp]

Harvey x Reader | Scars

an: FIRST STARDEW VALLEY FICC!!! LETS GOOO

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The day was just like any other in Pelican Town, with the sun lazily making its way across the sky, casting golden hues over the valley. You had ventured into the mines, determined to gather some precious resources to upgrade your tools for the farm. However, luck wasn’t on your side today, as you ended up with a minor injury—a small cut on your arm from a slip while mining.

As you returned home to your cozy farmhouse, you tried your best to hide the injury from your husband, Harvey, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily. But Harvey, being the observant and caring man he was, noticed the slight limp in your step as you entered the house.

��Hey, love, how was your day?” Harvey greeted you with a warm smile, setting aside his medical books as he noticed your return.

“Uh, it was fine, Harvey,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you quickly moved towards the bedroom, hoping to avoid any further scrutiny.

However, Harvey’s trained eyes caught the slight grimace on your face as you moved, and his concern deepened. He followed you into the bedroom, gently closing the door behind him.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry as he approached you, his hands itching to inspect you for any signs of injury.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a bit tired,” you reassured him with a forced smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice the cut on your arm.

But Harvey was not convinced. He gently guided you to sit on the edge of the bed and knelt down in front of you, his fingers trailing over your back as he began to massage away the tension from your long day in the mines.

At first, you relaxed into his touch, enjoying the comforting sensation of his hands on your skin. But then, as his fingers grazed over the cut on your arm, you couldn’t help but flinch, a sharp twinge of pain shooting through you.

Instantly, Harvey’s touch halted, his expression turning serious as he carefully examined the fresh wound. His brows furrowed in concern as he realized what had happened.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You bit your lip, feeling a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. “Oh, um, that? It’s… it’s always been there,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze as you tried to come up with an excuse.

“I know every inch of your body.. and I know for a fact that wasn’t there before,” he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and mild irritation.

Harvey’s gaze softened as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here to take care of you, always.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his words, his proximity suddenly making you acutely aware of every inch of your skin. “I… I must have missed it before,” you mumbled, feeling flustered under his intense gaze.

Harvey couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your reaction, his thumb tracing patterns over your cheek as he teased you gently. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to inspect every inch of you more thoroughly from now on, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you leaned into his touch, grateful for his unwavering care and love. Despite his teasing, you knew that Harvey would always be there to take care of you, healing both your body and your heart with his gentle touch.

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[stonedlilac]

•TW• ⚕️CNC, Drugging, Medical, Needles(IV), BDSM⚕️

Pt1

Gazing, admiring. I've done such good work, of course I'm going to take my time. I reposition the mask on my face, letting some air in through the bottom as it shifts. My scrubs, form fitting and black are wrinkled from the earlier struggle. Filled with various tools, ranging from medical lubricant to a simple small notepad and pen. No phone, though. You're my soul focus.

You're starting to stir and I'm starting to get impatient. The general anesthesia is starting to wear off and I feel myself getting more and more giddy. I have you blindfolded, for now. I don't want you too scared, too tight. Your arms are positioned snugly above your head, locked firmly in place. I'm particularly proud of how I bound your hands. Just enough wiggle room but not enough to succeed with any ill intentions. If anything, I'm being generous, giving you such a false sense of freedom. You should realistically be thanking me. But we can save that for later, I suppose.

Your breaths are starting to quicken, your stomach rising and falling so perfect. I tenderly run a few fingers across it, feeling the sparks and warmth of your skin against mine. You're so beautiful when you're helpless like this. I step towards you, placing a spinal anesthetic against the IV that runs into the fluid surrounding your spinal chord. So thoughtful of me, you won't feel an absolute thing.

You start to wake up, panicked. I'm sure I have an idea why. Probably because you can't feel the bottom half of your body. I start to explain things to you, but your gagged protests quickly cut me off.

The general anesthesia is really causing you panic as it wears off. I tentatively make note of this, slipping my pen and pad back into my pocket. I hum softly to myself, running the tips of my fingers along various tools and instruments, making my medical music as I like to call it.

Your legs are firmly supported in place in metal stirrups, locked and chained down, your cunt exposed and ready for me, already dripping. I adore that. You're whining pathetically against the gag, pulling loosely at your binds.

Snapping a pair of gloves over my hands, I finger a speculum, noticing the cool metal against my palms, turning it gingerly in my hands and adding a substantial amount of lube. I make my way to you, taking your blindfold off, the light like a smack to the face, making you squint.

I run the metal speculum along your belly and down your hips, giggling at the noises and desperate whines you make. Lining up the end of the speculum the blades vertical and the screw facing sideways, I carefully slide it into you, noticing how your eyes widen even though you can't feel what I'm doing to you. Reactions are such a funny thing, sometimes, aren't they?

I smile softly at you, slowly rotating the device stuffed in your cunt 90 degrees. The blades facing horizontally, screws up. You wince and I begin to wonder if you're feeling what I'm doing. It's risky, but I administer another half dose of spinal anesthetic, admiring the way your legs and hips completely relax and fall limp. There we go, perfect. You're begging me through your gag and I pull it down, falling just below your chin. Your hands are balled in tiny fists and your cheeks wet. You start to plead and scream, but I'm far too focused to pay you any mind.

The soft clicks echo through the room as the speculum opens, exposing your wet walls for me.

I grin, I've always wanted to see this, you tied down and panting as I examine your pretty parts. I tenderly slide a plug in your ass, watching as your walls slightly close together, coated to the brim with your wetness. Fuck.

Next is the straps. Different variations and sizes. Adjusting the speculum to fit each one just perfect. The torturous hum of the vibrator violating your clit, hitting the metal speculum and making your cunt shake.

I'm going to drive you over the edge, pet. I'm going to make you scream and tighten in pleasure, your cunt wanting to greedily suck me in, but unable to. Such a pathetic whore.

Pulling out I admire the way your cum runs pathetically down your thighs, running two fingers along your walls and bringing them to your lips.

Good slaves taste themselves and you've been so good for me, haven't you?♥︎

[this-isapen]

I Never Told You What I Do For a Living

Pairing: vampire! hozier x vampire hunter! reader

Warnings: none really

Word count: 2,362

Andrew is a vampire. His wife is a vampire hunter. Neither of them know about the other's true life, and tensions rise when they find out.

read on ao3!

fic under the cut

Text:

“Let me go,” I growl at the handful of vampires surrounding me, trying to make it come across as more of an order than a plea. The last thing I needed was for these pieces of shit to have the satisfaction of me begging for my life, my freedom.

I don’t quite know how I got myself in this situation; I’m good at my job, usually being able to hunt them down and move on before the bastards knew what hit them. But tonight was different. Maybe I had miscalculated, or someone had messed with me without me realizing. All I know is one second I was ready to strike, and the next I was being restrained and threatened.

I just hope that if these fuckers kill me, Andrew isn’t left wondering what happened to me. I haven’t exactly been honest with him about what I do for work; he thinks I’m a security guard with odd hours. I suppose in a way, that’s not too far off from the truth – more omission than anything else.

“And just why would we do that?” taunts one of the vampires holding me down, grinning evilly. “No sense in letting a hunter run wild, trying to kill us at any given moment.”

“If you’re going to kill me, at least have the courtesy to make it quick so I don’t have to suffer the torture of you talking to me.” I try to resist them, but my attempt is futile as all my weapons were several feet away, very much out of reach with the grip they had on me. Struggling only makes it worse, but I’m not going down without a fight.

The one I’d been talking directly to bares his fangs, readying himself to rip out my throat, when another voice joins the commotion.

“Let her go.” It’s an order, one they seemingly can’t resist, though they don’t appear too happy about it. At the very least, it makes them hesitate, which buys me a few extra seconds.

“You want us to let the hunter go?!”

Unfortunately for me, they still haven’t loosened their grip nearly enough for me to reach any of my tools. Worth a shot.

“I will deal with her myself,” the new voice counters. “Have a few questions that need answering before any of you kill her. Now, leave.” It was authoritative, commanding. There was an edge to the order that dared the others to even think about disobeying.

The vampires reluctantly leave me, muttering angrily to themselves. I brace myself as the figure comes out of the shadows slowly towards me, too stunned by what had just happened to make a break for it. He crouches down, meeting me at eye level. Those kind, familiar eyes... There’s no way this was happening right now.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on, angel?” my husband’s soft voice is unmistakable this close.

“ Andrew?! I can ask you the same thing.”

He smiles at me in acknowledgement, reaching forward to cup my cheek in his soft hand. “Are you hurt?” he asks tenderly, apparently examining me for possible injury, his thumb tracing my cheekbone.

“I’m alright,” I murmur. “But Andy, what the fuck is happening? I – you're one of them?!” The sharp fangs protruding from his mouth suddenly catch my attention.

“Yes, darling.” his answer is simple, concrete. You’d think I had asked him if he wanted pasta for dinner with how casually he replied.

My world seems to be spinning out of control in front of my very eyes. There is no way my husband, the love of my life, is a vampire and I didn’t know. I can’t reconcile that; my sweet Andrew cannot be one of them. And even if that was the case, how would I not have picked up on that? I notice everything about him; why would I not know?

“You’re a fucking vampire.” Saying it that bluntly makes it feel somehow less believable.

“You’re a hunter,” he replies coolly, seemingly examining the ground. Did this not bother him? Or was he just holding something back? His reaction is impossibly hard to read, blurring my interpretations of the person I thought I knew so well.

“How the fuck-”

“Not here,” he cuts me off before I can finish asking my question. “We’ll discuss this later, at home.”

“But-” I start to interject, but he stops me with a sharp look. This was a side of him that I certainly wasn’t used to.

He tilts his head slightly, seemingly listening for something. “They should be far enough away now that your pathway is clear, but just to be safe – run. It’s too risky for us to leave together; I’ll see you later.”

“Andrew-”

He grabs the bag containing my hunting tools, shoving it urgently into my hands. He still wants me to have them?

“Go.”

His tone doesn’t leave any room for argument right now, so nodding, I get up and head back towards home.

I pace our living room for a while in a futile attempt to make sense of the situation. How the fuck was he a vampire? He didn’t appear fazed by my being a hunter when he was instructing me to escape – did he somehow figure me out before I picked up on him? If that were the case, why wouldn’t he say anything to me? My head is practically spinning as the questions pile up.

He finally returns about two hours later, and I’m ready to start arguing before he even has both feet in the door. Before I get the chance, he walks directly up to me and presses his lips to mine, holding my face in both his hands. There’s something so tender and loving in his kiss, making me momentarily forget the events of tonight.

“You’re seriously not hurt?” he asks softly, forehead against mine. His question is sweet, protective. Always a worrier, that one.

“I’m okay,” I assure him. “Promise.”

He seems to accept that response, pulling away from me slightly.

“Andy.” It’s all I can do right now to begin this talk. How does one confront their partner about being a vampire?

“Yeah... suppose we have a lot to discuss, huh?” I can tell he’s nervous, uncomfortable with the idea of having this conversation.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I start.

“Same question.” That isn’t much of an answer, but fine. He’s rubbing the skin of his hands raw as he waits expectantly for my reply.

“I assumed you were unaware of the existence of vampires, and I was hoping to keep it that way. I wanted to protect you,” I confess. That was true; I hadn’t wanted to stress him out with the existence of the supernatural world, figuring that the less he knew the better.

“Me too, plus I... I didn’t want to scare you away.” There’s an insecurity hiding behind his admission, which cracks my heart wide open. He was worried I’d be scared of him? “I hope you know I would never want to hurt you.”

“I know, baby.” I was struggling to wrap my head around this, but I knew his words to be true. He had more than proved that tonight, freeing me instead of letting me get murdered by those despicable... no. Could I really think about them like that anymore?

“I love you more than anything,” he says as if he’s afraid I won’t believe him.

I notice he’s averting his gaze, and I reach up towards his face, making him meet my eyes. “I know. I love you too.”

He covers my hand on his face with his own, trying to secure it in place. His eyes close softly as he turns his head just enough to kiss my palm.

“Honey?” he asks timidly. “What does this mean for us?”

“I don’t know that I have an answer for that right now, Andrew,” I sigh shakily. This is a variable I had never once considered, so now I wasn’t sure what this meant for me, let alone us. “I mean, if I know I can trust you, does that mean my entire worldview has to change? There’s just a lot I’m going to have to process, a lot to think about.”

“Just promise me that if you kill me, I can at least die holding you,” he mumbles against my hand, seemingly holding back tears. He... sounded like if it came down to it, he would let me kill him. Andrew hadn’t been a fighter, ever, but not putting up a fight for his life was an entirely other thing. Is this something I need to be concerned about?

“Baby, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Why not? I’m one of them, like you said.” I hadn’t realized how much this was affecting him, like he feared me.

“Yeah, well up until a few hours ago, you were just my husband.” I lean up, kissing his cheek. “Who I love very, very much,” I continue with another peck.

I thought that my entire universe crumbling would make me more unsure of my relationship – we'd both been lying to and hiding from one another for so long, but there was something almost poetic about it. In a way, it was all done for love.

“And you could easily have killed me tonight, baby. But you didn’t, and that makes me think I can still trust you,” I point out in an attempt to calm his anxious mind.

“Of course I didn’t fucking kill you!” He seems mildly offended at my suggestion, totally not the response I was hoping for. “I - when I realized it was you, it didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t going to let anybody hurt you... I know that sounds ridiculous, because you’ve murdered so many of us, but...”

“Andrew... if you didn’t know it was me, would you have?”

The look on his face tells me all that I need to know. The thought stung, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t say the same. If I’d been in position to fight, I would have killed him without hesitation if I didn’t know it was him. The thought terrifies me, wondering what tonight’s outcome would have been if things had gone just slightly differently.

“Baby?” he asks, voice cracking. “Why do you do it?”

“I’m trying to protect people, Andy. I don’t want to see innocent lives be lost to creatures they don’t really stand a chance against.”

“We’re not all bad, though,” he argues, sounding a bit sad as he stumbles over his words.

“I can see that now...”

I really don’t know how to comfort him in this situation, this unexplored territory. It doesn’t help that his reaction is totally confusing, shifting from concerned to sad, maybe even angry.

“When I heard your voice... I – I thought they had gotten the wrong person, that you had gotten caught up in this somehow...”

“Andrew...”

“I should be fucking angry with you!” he shouts, startling me before shooting me an apologetic look. “But... I’m just, I don’t know, hurt? But I’m also just so goddamned relieved that you’re safe.”

“Back there, you... you gave me my weapons back. Why?”

“Because you deserve to be able to defend yourself, love.”

His teary eyes meet mine as he continues. “Even now, knowing all this shit... I would never be able to forgive myself if they had killed you. A lot of them are much more, ehm, impulsive than I am.��

“Andy,” my voice cracks slightly. His name feels like the only thing I’m capable of saying right now.

He sighs, shaking his head. It takes everything in me not to hug him tighter than ever and tell him everything would be alright. How could I, when I didn’t know where we stood right now?

We remain awkwardly in the living room, occasionally stealing anxious glances at one another. Where the fuck do I go from here?

“I know it won’t solve anything, and I know I definitely don’t deserve your forgiveness... but I am sorry, baby.” I manage to find my voice once more, though it sounds smaller to me than I ever thought it could.

The expression on his face is impossible to decipher. “I just...” he mumbles, a tremble in his voice. “I know it’s not fair to ask you stop.”

I want to get defensive of my work, but I hesitate. I try to picture separating these two lives again, but I’m only tormented by images of staking the heart of the man currently standing in front of me. “Andrew, I... have a lot to figure out about all of this. But if it’s any consolation, I think that means at the very least I’ll be taking a break.”

“Don’t feel obligated just because-”

It’s my turn to cut him off. “This isn’t because you’re asking me to. This is because I need to rethink some things.”

Apparently, neither of us know what to say next, the tension of tonight’s events fully exhausting our dialogue.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” I finally say, a yawn accentuating my statement.

“Oh,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll make up the couch.”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

“I mean, I figured you don’t want to share a bed...”

“I-” did I want that? On one hand, all the lying and hiding that had come to light made me hesitant to indulge in that intimacy. But on the other, I was exhausted and the comfort of sinking into his arms was incredibly tempting. “If you don’t hold me, I’ll kill you,” I chuckle dryly, wincing at my attempt at humor.

Before he can respond I add, “Uh, kidding. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

I hear his breathy laugh before feeling his lips on my forehead. “I know.”

He takes my hand, intertwining our fingers, and leads me to our room. There was a lot I didn’t know, but those thoughts are immediately silenced as I’m enveloped by the familiarity of my husband and my blankets. Figuring everything out is a problem for future me.

[djarins-cyare]

Be-All Bonus Feature: Creating the Chapter Photos (part 1)

Happy two-year anniversary to my magnum opus, Be-All And Endor! I can’t believe it’s been that long, and I’m so thankful for all the friends I’ve made in this community through it 💚🧡

Not only that, a couple of weeks ago, it reached 100,000 hits on AO3!!! 🤯

To celebrate these two milestones, I’ve prepared a little treat for the visually inclined among you. So, without further ado, please enjoy some behind-the-scenes examples of how I created the chapter photos.

If I went through all 40, this would end up suuuper long, so I’ve narrowed it down to my top 10. Even so, I still have to split it into two parts because there’s a limit of 30 images per post.

🟢 Chapter 3: The Covenant

Reader’s shiv started as a Google search for knives with wrapped handles. There were numerous “show similar images” searches based on vaguely suitable things I found until I finally came across one I thought would be good. Step 1 was to smooth the blade and remove the serrations and dips. My first attempt, which I can’t believe I actually published when chapter 3 went up, was terrible...

That’s after colour replacement and filters, etc., but I wanted to show you how awful the blade part looked before I revisited it.

When I started thoroughly editing the chapters one by one, I also reworked many of the photos, and this was one of the ones that got a significant overhaul. I started from scratch with the original image, and this time, I smoothed the whole blade but took the ridge you see at the tip all the way along to the handle, making sure I kept the light and shadows going. Much better than the flat grey blade I used to start with.

Next, I used colour replacement (a tool I’d discovered on my first attempt at this) to paint some of the threads on the handle blue.

In the story, Din slides it across Reader’s metal table, but this is obviously on black leather, so I did a load of blurring of the leather pattern and stuck it through some filters. It doesn’t take away the pattern, but compared to the shiny leather in the originally published image above, it could at least now be a pattern in the metal.

Then, finally, I went in close and did a load of detailed tweaking, which involved adding extra blue threads in the handle, making the blue pop more, and giving the overall image a reverse vignette and smoky blur. The result is the first chapter photo in which I felt I’d come close to actually depicting what I’d described in the fic:

It’s an impressive piece, and you’ve seen many shivs throughout your life. Normally custom-made by stripping down larger knives, the weaponsmith will start by removing the guard and much of the hilt’s bulk before installing a slim blade. Then, to complete their handiwork, they’ll securely wrap the handle frame with a sturdy fibre thread for grip and comfort. The result is a dainty yet deadly weapon favoured by smaller-handed assassins and criminals alike. This piece is no exception. The expertly woven cerulean and black threads zigzagging across the hilt are eye-catching additions alone. It was clearly assembled by a weaponsmith with an artistic flair and exquisite taste. You activate the vibration and find it balances perfectly in your grip. Switching it off, you weigh it between your hands, passing it back and forth a few times. As you hold it up to let the light glint off the blade, you notice no flaws across the flat planes. Then you look along the cutting edges, pleased to behold the smooth lines of a perfectly sharpened blade. “Beautiful…” you murmur, hypnotised by its elegance. Mando just sits and watches you examine his gift, a blurry background to your focused study of its nuances. A tiny part of your brain notes the blur moving as he nods in agreement.

🟢 Chapter 6: The Groundwork

By this chapter, I had already figured out how to remove backgrounds and stick Din into other surroundings, but they’d only been silhouettes so far. This was the first time I blended different elements effectively using Photoshop’s layers function, managing to make them look like they belonged together.

I started with Din reclining in Mos Pelgo and then got myself a Shutterstock subscription to get a high-quality photo of a forest through a window.

I made several initial attempts to figure out positions and proportions, though none bore any fruit because (a) I needed to get the lighting right and (b) Reader’s quarters are not wood-panelled!

Eventually, I chose the two left panes, photoshopped out the dividing line, and cropped it so you could only see the wall beneath and the frame on either side. I then decolourised the wood and smoothed out the grain until it looked like grey paint.

I initially put it up like that, but when I came to rework it, I colour-matched Din with the background, giving his beskar a slightly golden tint from the rising sun. I then added shadows on the wall beneath his arm where he’s leaning, and I also played with the light and shadows elsewhere.

Ultimately, it turned into something I’m pretty happy with:

Carefully switching it off, you run through a few manoeuvres for Din, who now reclines against the windowsill with a thumb hooked in his belt. He’s blatantly enjoying the show. The shock baton is about two-thirds the length of your arm, shoulder to wrist, and you easily fall into more of your old drills. Energised, you twirl and wield the metal cylinder as if it were a short sword, parrying imaginary blows with gusto. You even throw in some flashier moves just for fun. Given the lack of space, your final step brings you directly in front of the hunter, and you twist and swing the weapon at his helmet. It’s an obvious action, and you slow it down on purpose, but you’re curious to see whether he blocks you. Surprisingly, he doesn’t, and you arrest the baton’s movement a second before it impacts the beskar, hovering in place. Kriff, he didn’t even flinch! Your eyes lock onto the black T of his visor, and you catch your lip between your teeth again, waiting for his reaction. You get the feeling he was testing your control as much as you were his trust. You both passed, right? Points to both of you.

🟢 Chapter 9: The Hide

This one had a lot of different elements and took a while to get right.

I started with a Shutterstock photo of a giant redwood and (shoddily) Photoshopped out the tourist. Then, I located a promising-looking photo of a survival shelter built from branches, and again, I went wild in Photoshop to erase the elements I didn’t want.

Thrown together, they still needed extensive blending and adjustment. First, I used the patch tool to fill the gaps in the tree and shelter. Next, I found some forest undergrowth in another photo and extracted it into a third layer to place in front. Lastly, I played with light, tone, and colour until I had something I was initially pretty proud of.

The originally published image is the second one below.

When I came to do the edits, though, I added wisties (bioluminescent insect-sized creatures on Endor) in the narrative, so I also added them in the photo. Plus, I fixed the poor Photoshopping job where the tourist used to be. I also realised that the sun was about to set in the story, so the original image was far too light. Incorporating the wisties allowed me to darken the background and light it slightly differently.

What I ended up with is something I’m now delighted with:

After agreeing to each observe one side of the trail for signs of a hide, progress is slow for the next ten minutes or so. Finally, Din draws your attention to the right, and you bring the bike to a stop as he indicates a particular area of undergrowth. For a second, you think he’s just pointing out the bioluminescent insects flitting through the foliage… until you focus beyond them. A construction similar to what you described earlier juts out from the base of a giant redwood several metres off the main path. It’s well-disguised and covered by living vines, and if you hadn’t known what to look for, you wouldn’t have spotted it. “Good timing, the light’s almost gone.” The relief in your statement is palpable, and your hunting partner echoes it with a grunt as you both dismount. He then pushes the bike through the foliage, concealing it from view behind the colossal tree. As he stashes the speeder, you examine the hide. The glowing insects depart en masse as you gently agitate the leaves and vines to identify the entrance, and you eventually locate it on the right side near the trunk. Lifting aside the woven branch panel concealing it, you crouch down to get a better look inside. Yup, cramped as expected. It’s built for Ewoks and barely exceeds a metre in height at the half-dome’s apex. But as you shuffle into the gloomy interior, you’re pleased to find just enough space for you and your broad-shouldered warrior to rest here for the night.

🟢 Chapter 10: The Beast

Now that I’d figured out how to effectively blend layers, my next challenges were (a) how to include a CG image as one of those layers without it looking obviously out of place and (b) how to effectively light a nighttime scene.

I started with the CG image of the gurreck from Wookieepedia and what I thought was a good forest photo. However, I quickly realised I needed something with more appropriate lighting since this chapter takes place at night.

Fortunately, I found a far better background. After some jiggery-pokery, I managed to isolate some of the foreground foliage into an extra layer, allowing me to insert the gurreck behind it.

Next, I had to make it properly nighttime, so I added a foreground layer of midnight blue and used the ‘darken’ blend option. This tinted the whole image but kept the hazy feel.

Then I needed to add the Darksaber, so I pulled that from Din’s duel with Paz, flipped it upside down, and added it as yet another layer. The trouble was, having been cut out, most of its glow had gone with the background, so I needed to learn how to put that back in after the fact.

There followed viewings of YouTube videos on how to make things glow in Photoshop, and I gained a new skill!

I also had to horizontally flip everything because, in the story, Din approaches the gurreck from the left and draws it right.

When I later edited it, I worked even harder on the lighting to ensure that the light and shadows on the gurreck and surrounding foliage originated from the appropriate sources, i.e. the small amount coming from the planet above and the glow cast by the Darksaber.

Although the end result is extremely dark and probably doesn’t show up that well on devices with the brightness turned down, I’m actually really happy with the cumulative result:

He grunts his accord, then begins to weave to the right, stepping in front of the hide. As agreed, you stay motionless by the side of the giant tree. His steps are loud and determined, trying to draw the creature’s focus. It works. You can just make out the massive black shadow drifting back to the right, its attention caught by the closer target now backlit by the faint glow from your shelter. A full-bodied and menacing roar reverberates from the gurreck’s throat and licks at your nerves. You recognise it as its final attempt to scare its intended meal into a chase. And your partner knows it too. You hear a soft beep as he touches his vambrace to deactivate his helmet tech, and then there’s a strange, low whine. And, holy shit… he’s ignited a weapon unlike anything you’ve seen before! It’s… crackling white energy surrounding a fearsome black blade, almost a void in the universe. A beautiful sort of deadly. But adrenaline focuses you, and you manage to avoid gawking, taking your cue and activating the vibroblade at the end of your lyaer’tsa. The beast lunges forward, its target made more visible by the weapon’s glow, and you move at the same moment. Rushing out and around to approach it from the side, you take determined steps to avoid tripping on the thick foliage.

🟢 Chapter 12: The Storm

As explained in my chapter notes, writing this chapter involved extensive research, and I discovered that quartzite is a very safe type of rock to shelter under from a lightning storm. As I was writing, I started looking for photos of quartzite to help me better describe it, and I eventually found the perfect one (thanks, expensive Shutterstock subscription!).

When creating this chapter photo, I had to liberally utilise Photoshop’s editing tools, as I needed to smooth out numerous elements in the original image.

First, I flipped it because, in the story, I describe the flat rock Din eventually leans his back against being on Reader’s left when she’s crouched under the slope as he pulls the blanket across in front of her.

Then, I smoothed out the rocks and made the ground flat.

Next, I needed Din in the foreground, contemplating the outcropping’s suitability as a shelter, so I found a nice HD version of the lovely pic where he’s meeting the massiffs, did the ol’ background removal thang, and popped him in place.

But it was all too bright and cheerful. Din and Reader are looking for a place to shelter in the middle of a terrible storm.

After adjusting the lighting, tone, levels, saturation, and colour-matching Din to the background, I was happier, but I still needed rain.

I watched some YouTube videos to find out how to add rain and made a few attempts that came out decent enough... but then I stumbled across a site that would add animated rain! I love how it turned out:

It’s a further ten minutes of pressing through thick foliage and flinching at the cracks of thunder, and your nerves are getting frazzled. But soon, the space between the trees increases, and the vegetation begins to thin out, making you feel less trapped. As tangled roots make way for a slippery carpet of leaves, your companion leads you to the base of a steep ridge. Several sharp rocks and boulders protrude from it at odd angles, and a few almost overhang, creating shallow yet vital sources of possible shelter. However, the ground below them is a quagmire of mud and leaves, and you’re not keen to sit in it. He soon finds a suitable location: a shallow outcropping at a right angle with a vertical face, forming a corner alcove. The planes of the rock are oddly smooth and look almost carved. “Stay back; gonna use my flamethrowers,” he warns. Once you’re crouched a few metres away, grasping the backpack he just shoved into your arms, you discover the purpose of his pyrotechnics. He angles both vambraces at the spot beneath the rocky overhang, and twin jets of fire incinerate the damp leaves, baking the mud into a hardened seal. Smoke billows off the ground as the rain cools the superheated earth, and when he’s deemed it safe, he beckons you closer. There isn’t room for both of you under the jutting rock. In fact, there’s barely space for you on your own without a broad man in beskar. Plus, it doesn’t protrude far enough to keep either of you completely dry. But Din seems to have a plan, and you value his survival skills even more. “Crouch down there and give me your cloak. I need your vibro-shiv too,” he instructs, speaking directly toward your ear. The sky flashes bright with lightning again, making you close your eyes against the reflection in his armour. Between peals of thunder, he urges, “Now.” You duck under the low, shallow overhang and follow the instructions as fast as possible. Squatting on the baked clay-like spot, you bemoan the loss of your waterproof covering until you realise what he’s doing with it. He jams his vibroblade through the blanket’s corner into a fissure just above you, then pulls it across and secures the other corner using your vibro-shiv. It’s low enough to connect to the ground with plenty of excess, and from inside your narrow refuge, you watch him pull it outward a little. Then the fabric goes taut, and you surmise he’s heaved some smaller boulders onto the lower edge to prevent it from whipping about in the wind. You’re now veiled from the elements by a vertical stone wall on your left, plus an inclined rock roof/wall behind and above you. The waterproof blanket creates a mirrored sloping fabric roof/wall at a narrow angle from the lip of the outcropping to the ground in front. A small opening remains at the end for lookout purposes, downwind so the gusts won’t blow inside. Using only two blades and a blanket, he’s constructed a tiny mixed material cave-tent. And he’s done it with such nonchalance – as if keeping you both safe and dry amidst a monster storm isn’t an outstanding display of skill.

Be-All Bonus Feature: Creating the Chapter Photos (part 2) →

[mayasaurusss]

Day nine: carving a pumpkin. inspired by my own carving pumpkins shenaigans. Bilingual Nat at your rescue!

Natalie grunts as she pushes the pumpkin on the table, "Damn this is heavy". The bright orange peel stares at her, almost begging to be carved out.

You are sitting on your kitchen table,tools at hand and pumpkins sitting in front of you. "You were the one that decided to buy a pumpkin larger than her orn head!" she scoffs and shrugs, moving to sit on a chair.

That overgrown vegetable is so big that Nat's face has quite literally eclipsed behind it; you can only see a blonde hair poking from behind the pumpkin.

"So, which face were you thinking of carving?" you ask her, only seeing her single hair move when she peeks at you from over the pumpkin. "Hmh, I dunno. I was thinking like a..." she examines it's shape: it's round as the moon and it's stalk looks like a single hair. It looks silly. "I want to make something funny, maybe".

You are playing classic halloween songs while hot choco is cooling down near the window. Her fingers are holding the marker as she draws a smiling face on the pumpkin. One eye winks, while the other remains open; the mouth of the pumpkin is toothless and smiling.

The first thing to do is to remove the pulp. After having cut, with difficulty, an opening on the head of the pumpkin, she begins to scoop it with up a spoon.

"Dio! Perchè c'è n'è così tanta?!" next to her a pile of stringy, smelly pulp is forming, seeds and it's colour spreading everywhere. "Ah, fanculo" her hands sink into the carcass of the pumpkin and she begins to rip off the remains of the pulp with her bare hands. It’s strangely creepy. "Um, Natalie… with a little patience it would all came away…" she makes a grimace and continues her work. While she moves the flesh, she sees herself in a dark and cold place, as she gutted someone dear to her. A shiver runs up her back and for a second she stops, and she has to tell herself that she’s here now, not there. As the last strand is pulled out, she grunts and looks at her job: the pumpkin is compleatley clean, not one bit of flesh in it, "Fatto" she grins to herself while she rubs her hands togheter, effectivley spreading the colour on her skin. "...please go wash your hands before you make a mess of your clothes".

Now's the time to cut. She takes the carving tools and beguns to-. "Natalie! Natalie no!" while you were taking the hot choco, you see Natalie stabbing the poor pumpkin, in an attempt to go deep enough to carve it. "You are supposed to go in gently! Otherwise you're gonna hurt yourself!" Hm, that makes sense.

She starts to carve again, being careful not to get hurt and respecting the edges of the design. Sometimes she makes a mistake and the knife sinks a little further than what she had planned, but still, she does the job. Now, a smiling winky face stares at her. "E tu hai- uhm, have you finished yet?" she stumbles over her words for a moment, before looking at how far you are in your progress. "Almost done!" yours is more disturbing than hers, a malicious smile for a mouth and eyes too kind to be honest. When you take the pumpkin, much smaller than the behemot she choose and put it next to your face, smiling, Natalie feels a little sense of adoration towards you.

"Now, it’s time to light them!" you get a small tealight for your pumpkin and a bigger candle for Nat. When you light them and put them in, you cover both with the piece you had cut put earlier, and watch as their lights illuminate the room.

Natalie puts her chin on your shoulder and hugs your lower stomach, placing a kiss on your neck. "Ti adoro, lo sai?" you turn to kiss her on the cheek, "I know".

[unironicallytes]

Dear Brother: Overall Supplemental Lore

Domitius' Vow

[Below is an in-universe Familial Padomaist fable, used to explain the role of vampires within the Dark Brotherhood.]

It is said that in the Brotherhood’s early days, there lived the pious assassin Domitius, whose heart was ever-blackened and whose hands were always bloodied. Domitius toiled away to ferry souls to the Void throughout his life, and his own time finally arrived when he failed to best a target in combat. Domitius fought valiantly, but accepted his demise with humility and acceptance. “Alas, though I cannot deliver this soul to my Father, it is fated that mine go in their stead - it is a blessing to have lived a life in devotion and received my end,” he thought, as his target prepared the final blow. But amidst the struggle, their flowing blood mixed, and Domitius became infected with something unnatural as he passed into Void’s embrace. When he arrived at the threshold of his final home, Domitius could sense something was wrong. For he remained suspended just above the Nothing Behind The World, hung from his chest by a painful and stubborn hook whose other end remained Anchored in existence. He found his soul had become like oil, whereas the Void was like water. He could not break apart into the swirling abyss no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much the Void lapped at his edges to erode him. In agony, he cried out unto Sithis: “Oh, Dread Father! I have come home to thee, but something holds me in place, has cursed me with everlasting form! I pray thee, wouldst thou cut me from it, so I may rest with my Family below?” Sithis, an ever-watchful parent, heard his child’s cry and drew near. He pulled a shape from the eternal nothing with which to greet Domitius: he stretched skin and sinew across many rattling bones, grew endlessly deep eyes, and split into a gaping snake maw. His voice was the sound of rushing wind through deep caverns, of floodwaters overwhelming a dam. “My child, why dost thou cry out so?” Sithis asked. But before Domitius could answer, Sithis could see what the problem was. Something Anchored his child, and would not let the Nothing consume the soul properly. He moved yet closer to examine, but then recoiled.  “Vile coagulant of Bal! Not yet dead, but no longer alive - trapped between! A Schemer plays such foul tricks on my children!” Sithis lamented. He could not yet cut Domitius free, for the tether repelled his Void. He reassured his poor child as best as he could. “Though thou art afflicted with stagnation, thou remain my son, and I carry love for thee. Thou must go forth again, but as Undead. When thy befouled Anchor rusts and weakens once more, I shall sunder thy soul properly. But rest assured, child; no Daedra can keep thee from my grasp for long. Thou shalt find no restless eternity in Coldharbour so long as thou honors my name.” Domitius became invigorated in spite of such sad news. “Then I go with thy blessing, Dread Father. I will take this affliction and turn it to a Dark Gift instead, with which I shall spill blood for thee. I will only share this Dark Gift with those who are worthy. I vow to return one day.” Sithis was proud. He lifted Domitius with many hands and placed him back into the world. And Domitius did as he said he would do: with the Dark Gift, he worshiped and taught for centuries longer; and he only bestowed the same Gift to Siblings who understood the responsible use of such a tool. To possess the Dark Gift was not a gift to oneself, but a gift to Family still living. It was a selfless postponement of one's final rest to instead remain committed in unholy service.  The time came for Domitius to return home a second time. He bade his Listener to plunge Blade of Woe into his chest. When Domitius fell into the Void again, Sithis did as he said he would do: he broke apart the Anchor's chain, then lovingly dismantled his child’s soul, allowing it to dissolve freely into Nothing with him. And so, as it is said - vampires and other such anomalies have been bestowed a serious responsibility. One must use their Dark Gift wisely and in service to Sithis. Do not let temptation for permanence cause you to falter, for you must never forget where your true home lay.

[theheartofone]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty-Four

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty-Four: You Want to Come Over and Touch Me, Too?

Swallowing hard, you face Law’s burning gaze with a pretence of hot-headedness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you respond, narrowing your brown eyes into a feline glare.

What with Bepo’s word against yours, you’re aware that lying would be an incredibly weak attempt at brushing off Law’s accusation; regardless, with a sense of overcoming pressure washing over you, you’re willing to say anything but admit to a confession.

As expected, Law scoffs at you hugely. He pulls his arms into a tighter cross. “Really? You’re trying out that tactic with me?”

And for the next few moments, you’re locked in a combative, narrow-eyed staring contest with one another.

Leave it alone, your eyes say as they slope further into more threatening slits.

Law’s eyebrow’s twitch bemusedly. I don’t think so, they counter.

CLANG!

The resounding crash of metal against metal reverberates through the crow’s nest like a war cry, prompting you to whirl around, your senses honing in on the source of the disruption. There stands Zoro, towering like a behemoth, his grip on the weights loosened deliberately to create the cacophony.

Your eyebrow arches with scepticism, a silent question hanging in the air. Zoro's response? A nonchalant shrug that screams anything but nonchalance, accompanied by a sardonic grunt that could rival the roar of a disgruntled bear.

"Oops," Zoro deadpans, the word dripping with sarcasm so thick you could cut it with one of his swords.

Rolling your eyes at the dramatic gesture, you turn back to Law, your arm quickly thrown out in his face.

“Pretend to examine my arm and I’ll talk.”

As Law's inked fingers grasp at your skin, you can't help but flinch slightly at his cold touch, albeit his handling is soft and gentle. But instead of merely feigning his examination, as you had half-expected, it becomes evident that Law is taking his task quite seriously. His demeanour shifts from bemusement to intense focus, his brow furrowing as he meticulously examines your arm.

You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling like it’s swelled up to twice its size. “What I’m about to say stays between us and Bepo, understood?”

Law pauses his examination, his gaze lifting from your arm to meet your eyes. There's a spark of curiosity across his countenance as he gives you a singular nod.

"Understood," he replies evenly, his voice low and hushed. "But firstly, why are you hiding yourself from your own crew?”

You pick up the Uchiko ball that softly drapes itself over the Enma. Like a lover holding onto its source of dear respite, it reluctantly rolls away into your fingertips – fingertips that twirl with such effortless precision, you could mistake them for a horologist’s.

You sigh, frowning at the powder ball - as though this little tool has been your main source of trouble from the very start.

“Because, if word gets out about my identity, then I’m a danger to all of those who I care for. If I tell the crew, there’s a chance it could accidentally be spread to others. That not only some mysterious force wants me, but also that a former Wano hotshot, related to Oden, has left the country and has a 'free snatching for all!' sign written on her head.”

Law’s dark eyes are lowered as he wipes your arm with an antiseptic, a needle laying idly in one of his medical kits. “So, people are after you.”

You nod, now touching the Enma by her hilt. Newly leathered and greased, she’s ready to go back to her owner. You dab the ball on her sharp edge, powder releasing across its shimmering surface.

“I have no idea what all these fuckers want from me. Random outlaws, the CP-0 and now…creatures that I never knew existed until...” You choke out the last part heavily, biting on your lower lip hard to stop yourself from tearing up. “That’s how…Suki was taken.”

Law snaps his head up to you. “Kozuki Sukiyaki? By who?”

You furiously shake your head, feeling the burn in your other hand slice through you as you experience the pain of losing your Gramps all over again. “Something…It swallowed him whole like some fucking jelly. It sucked the life out of everything it touched. I-I can’t get it out of my head.”

Law stares at you gravely, his cold fingers tightening over your wrist almost imperceptibly. His tone is serious now – almost demanding – as he proceeds to question you through gritted teeth.

“What did it look like?”

You look back down at him, something clicking in place for you, too. Law must know something about it - must have experienced something similar.

You answer with only one heavy word, the tip of your tongue burning in resentment for the shadowed being. You breathe it out, choking on its taste, its gel-like macabre invading your vision once more.

“Eyeballs.”

Law's expression shifts incredibly into a sort of contained fury. His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features.

"Eyeballs," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. The air lays thick as the shadowed body itself – translucent and unbreathable - as he processes your words, his eyes holding a type of withered rage within them.

CLANG!

The sharp clang of metal reverberates through the crow’s nest yet again, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade slicing through cloth. Startled, you and Law both turn towards the source of the disturbance, your gazes locking onto Zoro, who stands amidst the weightlifting equipment, his expression unreadable but his body language speaking volumes.

"What now?" you mutter under your breath, irritation lacing your words as you eye the swordsman, who seems determined to disrupt your conversation with Law.

With a casual shrug that belies the underlying tension, Zoro meets your gaze head-on, his demeanour challenging. It's as if he's daring you to confront him, to question his motives for disrupting your discussion.

You exchange a quick glance with Law, who remains stoically observant, his gaze flickering between you and Zoro with a hint of intrigue.

With a grumbling sigh, you turn back to Law, silently urging him to continue the conversation despite the Bull-Head’s intrusion; there are matters that need addressing, and you refuse to let Zoro's antics derail your focus.

Law's gaze remains fixed on Zoro for a moment longer before he turns his attention back to you, his expression guarded. For a moment, there's silence between the two of you, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air.

Then, without a word, Law begins to open a freshly packaged needle.

"I've encountered them before," he finally admits, his voice low and tinged with bitterness. "Penguin - one of my crewmates… he was taken. Before your Captain rammed into us, we were trying to find him.”

You feel your heart thrumming on the tip of your tongue. “Why him?”

“I don’t know yet. I think they mistook him for me, as ridiculous as that sounds,” he says between gritted teeth. He nudges his head to your skin. “Did this happen after Kozuki-ya was taken?”

You give a terse nod.

“Then that’s one problem crossed out; the trauma of Eyeballs has triggered the transformation. But what I’m more curious about is whether your transformation would have happened regardless. Is this inherited or was it done by an external factor?” he mutters the last sentence more to himself than anything.

He runs his inked fingers across your arm, tracing the blackened and iridescent blue veins of your skin ever so lightly, ever so softly, that your stomach uncontrollably drops in response.

CLANG! TWANG! CLANG! CRASH!

Your frustration bubbles to the surface as you whirl around again, expecting to find Zoro once more amidst the weightlifting equipment.

Sure enough, there he stands, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the room as he eyes you and Law with an unreadable expression. But this time, there's a subtle shift in his demeanour, a tension that thrums beneath the surface as his gaze locks onto Law's hand gently caressing your arm.

You raise your eyebrows at Zoro, your eyes completely dead-panned.

“You want to come over here and touch me, too?” you call out.

Zoro's expression flickers with a mixture of surprise and annoyance at your blunt remark. He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out, his usual retort lost in the face of your bold challenge.

Meanwhile, there's a small smirk on Law’s mouth as he watches the events unfold like some sort of referee.

And before Bull-Head finally finds his voice, you brazenly interrupt him with a sarcastic smile and a dramatic flick of a switch.

The unused walls that partition the floor of the gym and the workshop now groan from its wake, slowly rising to its now-welcomed intrusion. With the last few glares that you receive from the samurai, you dramatically wave back at him with a devious cock to your head.

As the mechanical walls shudder in its succession, you turn back to Law with a satisfied smirk. In response, Law watches you with amusement twinkling in his eyes, clearly entertained by your bold maneuver to ensure privacy for your conversation.

And finally, the rumbling stops, the barriers are in its full splendour, and you can now go back to business.

"Well, that takes care of that," you remark, crossing your arms and leaning against one of the now-closed walls. "Now, where were we?"

Law flicks up a needle in his hand. “You okay if I take some of your blood with me?”

“You creep me out, Trafalgar,” you mutter, giving him a heavy side-eye. Alas, Law stares at you with a pointed look, waiting for you to give your actual consent; in reply, you smile at him a little, thrusting your hand out. “Go for it, doc.”

As the needle gently finds its way into your skin, you silently watch Law draw your blood with a sense of ease and nonchalance, as if he’s done this a million times – good, you think to yourself. You were a little worried that he was lying about his profession for a second.

Law decides to suddenly break the silence whilst idly watching your blood seep into the vial's reservoir.

“I hope you know that we’ve been to Wano. Your crew have met people you’ve probably not seen for a decade.”

Your heart stammers incredibly hard in your chest from his sudden comment, the realisation of his words slamming into you like a ton of bricks. You have not heard about Wano since you left - nor did you ever want to. But the fact that your crew has now seen and met the people that you have not even…

It scares you.

Because - what do they know?

Because - what has happened since you were gone?

But - should you care? You've revoked your title and all that comes with it to receive a legal grant to leave the country. You are basically a stranger to your home, now – a home you absolutely despised, if that soothes any discomfort that lays within your chest. But you can’t lie that you miss the peace. And the people. Well, some of them, at least.

Law looks at you suspiciously, realising that maybe you haven't known about this particular fact until now. He flickers his focus back to the needle in his hand. “I heavily advise you to read through one of their logbooks.”

You swallow, tilting your head to the side. “I don’t want to.”

“You have to,” he responds instantly, a firmness lingering in his tone. “Trust me.”

You pretend to ignore his insistence by turning to the Enma. With a bitten-back lip, you thoughtfully polish the Enma with your other hand, gently puffing the ball on the different areas of her body.

Law takes notice of the sword in your grasp whilst he gently removes the needle from your arm . He slightly purses his lips, pondering amidst the awkward silence on whether it’s a good idea to bring that matter up or not.

Finally, he sighs. He points to the Enma that lays in your hand.

“I can’t believe I’m asking you this, swordsmith, but where do you think Zoro-ya got that from?”

Surprised, you look up at him – and for the first time in the conversation, your voice doesn't come out so self-assured. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Well, we don’t really have that kind of friendship. I-I just assumed someone illegally smuggled it out of Wano, and he found it somewhere.”

“Well,” Law says as he shifts himself off from the mahogany stool. He sweeps off his equipment from the table. “Maybe you should ask.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m…going to see Mugiwara-ya. To form…another alliance.” He chokes out the last word with a withered sigh, irritation colouring his face like you’ve never seen before. He looks down at you, his jaw clenched. “It seems that we both have a common objective to reach. It would be easier for Tony-ya and I to work together on your arm, too - I would like to document it for future purposes.”

“Hang on - what about Kikoku? Our deal?” You splutter out, vindictively narrowing your eyes at him.

He offers you a rare smile. “Keep it. I’ll come back in a few hours, anyway.”

And as he beelines to the barrier’s door, you can’t help but voice out one last lingering thought.

“Can I ask you one last question?” You call out.

Law silently turns around, leaning himself against the wall. A silent ‘go ahead,' if anything.

You breathe in deeply. “What was my tell? The one that revealed my identity?”

And immediately, Law's lips find its way into a devious smirk as he meets your gaze, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. He pauses for a moment, considering his response, before finally answering.

"Let's just say, it was what you said - and also how you said it," he replies, his smirk widening ever so slightly.

And with that enigmatic statement hanging in the air, Law takes his leave, striding confidently out of the room and – quite intentionally – leaving the door between the gym and the workshop hanging wide open. You watch him go, his departure leaving you with more questions than answers.

As you ponder over Law's words, Enma laying loosely within your fingertips, your thoughts are instantly interrupted by the thrum of demanding footsteps.

Turning towards the noise, your eyes lock with his, his imposing figure drawing closer with each step. His wet green hair glistens in the light, and his gaze is sharp as it meets yours.

Zoro's approach is slow and deliberate, his movements fluid and purposeful like a predator stalking its prey. With each step, his presence looms larger, casting a shadow over the room that seems to swallow everything in its path.

With a raise of your eyebrow, you watch him take his place in front of you, leaning his side against the workshop table. He runs his glistening, calloused hands through a damp cloth, his darkening grey eye never leaving yours. You stare up at the lion, the predator that's now silently observing you, as his rumbling voice departs from the tip of his tongue.

“You’re telling me everything,” he lowly demands, sprawling himself on the mahogany stool.

[kaye-go-moo]

Shapes and Strange Ciphers AU: Need a hand? Pt. 2

SaSC by me

Shapes and Pines by @/void-dude

Next Part

Jheselbraum, on the rare occasions she saw Bill in town, noticed his behavior gradually becoming increasingly strange over the span of a few weeks. At first, his movements were clumsy and awkward, stumbling through the streets like a child learning to walk. She initially assumed he was drunk, but as time passed, it became clear something else was wrong. His walk became more refined, but completely different from his usual stride—his head held high, his steps confident, and his hands clasped neatly behind his back. However, this wasn't nearly as disturbing as his newfound hostility towards others. Bill, who had always been somewhat stand-offish but never rude, acted arrogant, treating those around him as if they were beneath him. 

Bill also appeared disheveled; his hair was long and tangled, his clothes dirty, and his face gaunt. There was also something off with his eyes. Jheselbraum couldn't place it, but they just looked wrong—dark and empty, like something had crawled inside of Bill's skin and was poorly imitating him. Jheselbraum was filled with a growing sense of unease, the feeling in her gut that had kept her in gravity falls returned, leading her to pay Bill a visit.

-

When she entered his house, Jheselbraum was taken aback by its state. The place was a wreck—papers strewn everywhere, cobwebs draped over the furniture, and dust filled the air. Is Bill really living here?

She called out his name, but there was no response. She ventured down into the basement and found him working on the portal. He looked awful. With his long hair tied into a messy ponytail, revealing his condition was far worse than Jheselbraum had initially believed, "Bill?"

Bill jumped and looked up in surprise, “J-Jhesel? What are you doing here?”

"I was worried. About you." Her gaze lingered, examining his decrypate from, her face a mix of shock and concern.

Bill’s expression darkened as he turned to continue his work., “Im fine. You can leave now.”

"Fine? You call this fine?” Her anger surged, “Bill, what the hell is going on with you?" 

For once, Jheselbraum didn’t hold back. Normally, she would leave in quiet frustration, wanting to avoid confrontation, but not this time. She had reached her limit. If escalating was the only way to get Bill to listen, then so be it.

She unleashed everything—her concerns and frustration from the last year, picking apart his every action. She questioned his sanity, asking if he was having a mental crisis. She tore him to pieces before threatening to contact his family, “Is that what it will to get you to pull your head out of your ass?”. However, this only managed to anger Bill and send him over the edge.

Bill had been frozen in stunned silence, but the mention of his family caused him to snap. His face contortinf with rage as he yelled, “Leave them out of this!”

He unleashed a barrage of cutting insults, using her insecurities and regrets as amunition. In his rage, he grabbed a nearby tool and flung it at her.

It missed, bouncing off the wall behind her and clattering to the floor. Jheselbraum stood in shock, face pale and eyes wide. She stumbled back, turned, and bolted up the stairs, fleeing the house and driving away.

Bill sat there, paralyzed, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. He wanted to chase after her, but his legs wouldn’t move. Minutes passed before he managed to stumbled to his feet and up the upstairs. The front door was open, left ajar by Jheselbraum. He reached outt, his hand hovered over the doorknob. I should apologize.

“You should stay here,” Bill shifted his attention to Ford. “Things will only escalate if you go after her.”

Bill, deflated, slowly closing the door. He stood in silence, staring blankly at the knob, fog clouding his mind. “You should rest.” Ford glided in front of Bill, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Bill silently obeyed, numbly turning and walking to his bedroom. He slumped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he feel fast sleep, unaware of what Ford did while he rested.

When he woke, he back in the basement, a sticky note left by Ford sitting in front of him: ‘There's nothing to worry about. The problem is solved. Continue fulfilling your legacy.’

A pit formed in Bill’s stomach and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard, let out a shaky breath. Rising to his feet, he turned back to the portal, but a chilling anxiety brewed in his chest as he forced himself to continue working.

-

A week had passed with Bill tirelessly working on the Portal and Ford taking over his body at night. But eventually, something clicked in Bill's mind. Why wasn’t anyone banging down the front door? Why hadn’t anyone called? Knowing Jheselbraum, she would’ve definitely told his family about their fight. So why was no one there?

A cold shiver ran down his spine as Ford’s words flashed in his mind ‘the problem is solved’. What did that mean? Bill thought back, remembering all of his doubts, doubts he had kept hidden—doubts Ford had somehow known. Ford knew exactly what to tell Bill to keep his fears down. To keep him down. Something wasn’t right.

Unable to shake the feeling, Bill raced out of the house and into town. Heading towards Jheselbraum's apartment, he spotted her wandering the streets. Relief washed over him as he ran up to her and began apologizing, stopping when he noticed her confused and worried expression.

"Do I know you?"

Bill’s heart sank. His face paled as he looked her over. She was wearing the same clothes from when he last saw her, but no coat or shoes—in the middle of winter. He quickly wrapped his jacket around her, ushering her towards his car and out of the cold. But she recoiled in fear, wriggling out of Bill’s grasp before running away.

He tried to chase after her, but his exhaustion slowed him to a wheezing crawl. Bill spent the rest of the day searching, but the cold forced him to stop. Desperation pushed him to ask the police for help, but all they could offer was a vague promise to “keep an eye out.”

Bill had no choice but to return home. He needed to call the Jheselbraums family and tell them. Tell them... what exactly? That their daughter had gone mad? That she lost her mind and was now wondering underdressed through the cold? Thinking about it, he realized he didn't even remember their numbers. He couldn’t remember anyone's number. Bill never could, always having to rely on an old notebook with the everyones contact information listed.

Bill frantically searched the house, but the notebook was gone. Even his phone had disappeared.His breath quickened, becoming ragged, as the world collapsed in on him. Nothing was where it should, no one was acting how they should be. Nothing was right and he had no one—not his friend or his family. He was alone.

Bill crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap before waking to a familiar cosmos. Ford hovered above him, trying to explain away all of Bill’s doubts.

Bill stayed quiet, listening to Ford try and rationalize what Bill saw. Then Ford paused, seemingly interrupted by a silent voice. He looked down at Bill, examining him with a narrowed eye.

"I want the truth." Bill's voice was cold, his eye fixed on Ford.

Ford sighed with annoyance, looking at Bill with disappointment. "I'll give you this one chance, Cipher."

With a snap, the dream unraveled, and Bill was bombarded with flashes of creatures and places he had never seen before, inventions he could never dream of creating.

"This will all be ours, my protégé.” Ford gestured towards the images, “Anything we desire. Everything we deserve."

Bill's head was spinning. Overwhelmed, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, "No! I asked for the truth, Stanford! Give me the truth!"

Ford's eye darkened, and a flash of red anger painted his shape. He closed his eye, recollecting himself before he raised his hand, fingers bracing against each other. His eye reopened, staring at Bill with a cold indifference.

"To think I would've let you join me."

Snap

-

Ford took control of Bill's body, forcing it up from the floor and over to the basement door. First, he changed the doors passcode before heading down to the lab. There, he grabbed one of his secret side projects: a pin lock, which he installed on the closet door. Afterwards, he turned his attention to the portal, picking up where Bill had left off. He worked until Bill’s body reached its limit, its hand’s trembling too much to use. Finally, Ford locked himself in the closet. Now, Bill was trapped—only able to leave when Ford possessed his body.

-

Ford continued working on the portal, knowing it would be complete in a few more days. However, Bill didn't make it easy. When awake, he tried breaking down the door, leaving his body too exhausted for Ford to use, delaying the portal's completion. Bill��s continued escape efforts lead him to work his frail body past its limits. In a desperate attempt to slow Ford's progress, he restored to hurting himself. Forcing Ford to work with broken bones and trembling limbs. Ford tried reasoning with Bill—through flattery or insult—doing everything he could to break him down. But Bill held strong.

After a few days, Bill finally managed to break down the door and weakly climb upstairs, only to be met with another lock installed by Ford. In that moment, Bill nearly gave up. His body was wrecked, the pain being the only thing keeping him conscious. Ford tried encouraging Bill’s weakness, insisting his actions were pointless. But Bill fought off his desire to quit and steeled his resolve. 

He tried kicking down the metal door, but his legs were too weak. Taking a moment to assess his surroundings, he realized he could just break through the wooden wall instead. With renewed determination, he shuffled back down to the lab and grabbed his tools. He spent hours tearing at the the wall, all while enduring Ford’s manipulation. Eventually he broke through.

Bill raced to the front door, only to be halted by a raging blizzard. It was too risky to push through the snow—he could die of hypothermia or pass out, giving Ford to the chance to regain control or manipulate someone else into finishing the portal. He had no choice but to find a solution inside the house.

Bill frantically searched for something—anything—that might help him deal with Ford. It was a feverish attempt made more difficult as night fell. Ford had taken the time to remove every light bulb in the house, leaving Bill in the dark and forcing him to return to the basement. There he found a busted old torch that he used to light his way.

During his search, he came across an old photo of him with his friends. A heavy pit formed in his stomach as he stared at the picture, a reminder of forgotten memories and broken friendships. Before he could dwell on it for too long, another photo caught his eye.

In it, a younger Bill smiled proudly as he held up a first-place prize from a science contest. Beside him stood someone he hadn't seen in almost a decade—his old babysitter, first friend, and big brother, Tad. Tears welled up in Bill’s eyes as he realized just how much he missed Tad. How much he’s needed him—now more than ever.

Suddenly, an idea grounded him. Bill jumped to his feet, rifling through drawers until he found an unfinished postcard addressed to Tad. “What good will that do?” Fords voice cut through Bills thoughts “He abandoned you, Cipher. What makes you think he’ll come back?” Bill paused. Ford was right. And even if he wasn’t, who was Bill to ask Tad to travel all the way to Gravity Falls just to help him? They hadn’t spoken in years. Did Tad even remember Bill existed?

Taking a deep breath, Bill steadied himself. I won’t know unless I send it. He wrote “PLEASE COME!” followed by his home address. Once the blizzard died down, he bundled up and made his way into the woods, placing the letter in an old, rusted mailbox. He lifted the flag and left, hoping—praying—Tad would receive it.

-

While waiting for Tad, Bill loaded up on caffeine and energy medication, trying to stay awake for as long as possible. He couldn't risk Ford taking over his body and locking himself somewhere he couldn't escape. Bill continued his search for something against Ford, but he couldn’t find his journals. He nearly tore the house apart, but there was nothing—Ford had either hidden or destroyed them. Defeated, Bill shifted his focus to dismantling the portal.

It was far from an easy task. Bill's body was weak from a lack of food and sleep, and with his journals gone, he had to rely on scattered notes and his foggy memory. He gathered what he could find, but between Ford’s constant badgering and Bill's sleep deprivation, it was hard to focus. Things only got worse when he started to have hallucinations—or what he convinced himself were hallucinations.

Every bump and creak sent Bill into panic, scrambling to find its cause. The only way he could get any work done was by tricking himself into thinking everything was fine. As long as he saw Ford, he was safe, his presence brought Bill a strange sense comfort. He could keep and eye on him and didn’t have to be completely alone—though its debatable if being alone would’ve be better than hanging out with your captor.

One night, after ignoring a series of thumps upstairs, Bill was startled by the sound of breaking glass. He looked around and realized Ford was gone. He’d been so focused on the portal that Bill didn’t notice his absence. Grabbing a long metal pipe, he raced upstairs, slowing as he neared the source of the noise. He was chilled to see a decaying body crawling through the broken window, its eye glowing a golden hue.

"Stop with these games, Cipher." The corpse’s voice was raspy, its words disturbingly familiar. Ford. "I gave you the opportunity to do one worthwhile thing in your pathetic life, and you wasted it."

Bill froze, trembling as the corspe staggered to its feet. "This is your last chance."

A bloody hand reached out toward him. Bill's grip on the pipe tightened.

"Cipher, my protégé, don't—"

Before Ford could finish, Bill swung the pipe down onto the hand, then back at Ford’s face, landing with a sickening crack. The corpse slammed into the ground. Bill stood panting, waiting for Ford to get back up, but the body lay still. Shining his flashlight into the dead man's eyes, Bill saw no glow—the pupils small and unreactive.

Bill dragged the body outside. It took him a while, but eventually, he managed to lay it beside the back porch. He stumbled back inside and returned to the basement. He tried dismantling the portal, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. Shaking so violently he could barley hold a tool without dropping it. He told himself that he was just the cold, but even after an hour of sitting in the warm basement, his hands pressed tightly against his chest, the trembling wouldn’t stop. And then came the tears.

-

At one point, Bill toyed with the idea of blowing up the house. It would be the quickest solution and would set Ford back significantly. The idea intrigued him, but the intrusive thought of being inside when it exploded quickly snuffed out the plan. Besides, it was only a temporary fix. Bill needed something permanent. And then there was Tad. If he comes—when he comes— how would he feel, finding nothing but the ashes of Bill’s homes?

-----

Lore Comments

[petitelepus]

Starscream Reader is trying to fix her wings but getting frustrated doing it by herself? Until Tanjiro suggested one certain teacher that could help her! ÒwÓ Haganezuka is edging her to overload by how he’s treating her wings! And she trying very hard to remain quiet (bonus that Sanemi and Starscream bumps into each other when it’s done lol-)

Alright, here we go, enjoy everyone!

A/N: Tanjiro Kamado, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Hotaru Haganezuka, Fem!Reader, Techo-Organic Reader, Modern!AU

WARNING: Suggestive

FIRST

SECOND

THIRD

FOURTH

When Tanjiro found you in an alley after you had stolen a stale old apple, you had told him you didn't fly because it attracted too much unwanted attention.

Well, it was partly true. You didn't want to attract law enforcement's attention, but the main reason was that you couldn't fly even if you wanted to.

Your wing, your beautiful dark metal wing was malfunctioning and there was no doctor nearby who could actually help you.

Surprise surprise, the doctors on Earth focused on organics only, such as humans or animals. There was nothing they could do for you and you didn't trust those humans with dirt under their nails who fixed cars and such.

Did you look like some four-wheeled vehicle!? You were a noble techno-organic and a flier even!

You were pouting in the small room that Tanjiro's mother had so kindly given you to use, pouting as you tried to remember how it felt to feel the wind against your face and look down on small humans…

When suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Star?" It was Tanjiro. You sighed and replied, "Come on in."

Tanjiro stepped into your room and looked at you lying on your stomach on the bed, "Is everything alright?"

"Fantastic," You rolled your crimson eyes, "My wing is busted and I can't fly…"

"Oh," The young man frowned, "Is there anyone who could repair your wing?"

"No… I don't trust those mechanics close to my gorgeous wings…"

"I see…" Tanjiro thought about it and then he had an idea, "There might be a person who might be able to help you!"

"Doubt it," You grunted but your host just smiled, "I mean it! Come to school with me tomorrow! There is a person who can help!"

"…Fine…"

And so you came to school with Tanjiro and he took you to an empty classroom where a masked man was sharpening knives.

"Haganezuka-sensei!" The young man called happily while you made sure to close the door behind you.

"Kamado," The masked man grunted, "What do you need?"

"My friend Star here broke her wing and we were hoping you could help us to repair it?"

"Wing?" The man looked up from the knife and looked at you.

"Yes!" Tanjiro looked at you, "Please show him your wings?"

"Fine…" You grumbled as you took off your cape and spread your beautiful metallic wings, or, one of them at least. The other one would barely open.

"Marvelous…!" You heard the masked man grumble as he put the knife down and walked up to you, "This is amazing…!"

"Do you think you can fix her wing?" Tanjiro asked and the man, Haganezuka nodded, "No doubt."

"Perfect!" The young man looked at you and smiled, "I have to go to the class, but Haganezuka here can help you! See you back at the bakery?"

"Alright…" You nodded and the cheerful boy left the room, leaving you and the masked man alone.

"Take a seat," He pulled you a chair and you grumbled as you sat on it, your stomach against the backrest.

"Listen, I don't have my hopes up since I'm a race-high above humans and I- AH!" You gasped as he grabbed your damaged wing and examined it.

"Yeah, I can see what the problem is," Haganezuka grumbled as he let go and you gasped for air.

"H- How can you know!?" You snapped, flustered, "You barely looked!"

"And yet, I know more than you do," He grunted as he grabbed some sort of tool from his desk and got back behind you, "Now stay still or I'll cut your wings!"

"My- AAH!" You cried out, your claws digging into the chair as he started to tinker and work on your wing, and you… You found yourself enjoying it.

This man might have appeared like a complete brute, but he had a feather-light gentle touch… And it was turning you on so much.

Your wings were sensitive, and so were every flier's… But this man was something else!

"Hold still…!" He grumbled and you wanted to retort but found yourself unable to do that because you knew that if you opened your mouth, you would have moaned out loud wantonly.

This went on for a minute or ten and with each passing minute, you grew more sensitive and turned on…! And this man didn't either notice or didn't pay any attention to you like that!

You were panting through your teeth, your whole body trembling as you tried to control yourself, but it grew harder and harder to do…!

"There, I think we are done," Haganezuka grunted as he pulled away from your wings, "You better try them out first before actually attempting to fly-!"

"Yeah, great, thanks!" You bolted up and rushed to the window, snapping it open.

"Oi, we are on 3rd floor-!" Haganezuka was saying but you were already halfway out of the window.

"I owe you!" You called and the man frowned, but then he watched how you spread your gorgeous wings fully open and took off, flying into the distance.

The teacher looked after you as you flew out of the school grounds and towards the city, students outside pointing at you as you flew.

There were steps coming towards his classroom and-!

"Oi, Haganezuka!" Sanemi snapped as he rushed into the Home Economics classroom, "What the fuck was that thing that flew out of your window!?"

"A patient…" Haganezuka grunted as he cleaned the tools he had used to fix your damaged wing, much to the Math teacher's confusion and frustration, "What!?"

[blackjackkent]

As Rakha slowly comes back to herself in the wake of the zaith'isk explosion, she is dimly aware that the ghustil is screaming with rage.

"SHKA'KETH!"

And then Lae'zel's answering scream, shakier and weaker than usual and trembling with fury. "What madness is this? The zaith'isk nearly destroyed me! I AM GITHYANKI! I WILL NOT BE GHAIK!"

"My life's work. Gone..." the ghustil whispers hoarsely as Rakha clambers unsteadily to her feet. The doctor seems barely to notice Lae'zel's pain or her anger - her attention is all for the shattered piece of machinery at their feet.

She rounds suddenly on them, her eyes fixing on Lae'zel with sudden intensity. "And yet she lives - and so does her parasite."

Narrator: [INSIGHT] Her voice cuts with a fanatical edge - an obsession bordering on mania. If there's a chance the parasite lives, she wants it.

It's not hard to guess the doctor's thoughts. She knew the machine would kill. Her concern was never for Lae'zel or Rakha's survival - only for what she might learn. And now that disinterest is colored by rage.

She has betrayed them, and because her betrayal failed, she is dangerous.

Pathetic creature, says the beast in Rakha's head. We will do as we promised. We will tear out your throat.

"Your zaith'isk tried to kill Lae'zel," she says, her voice cold as ice. "And failed."

At her side, Wyll shifts uncomfortably. He knows that tone. So does Shadowheart, although she seems to be only half-listening; her eyes are fixed on Lae'zel, a bit of healing magic drifting from her fingertips but unspent, as she has nowhere to direct it. The damage done here lies within.

"The zaith'isk does not fail," the doctor hisses angrily. "The only variable in this experience was you - and your parasite! And I will uncover how this happened."

She is as hot as Rakha is cold - incandescent with fury at her neat little plan falling to pieces. Rakha almost reaches out and takes her by the throat then and there, but before she can do so, the doctor pushes past her and out into the hallway. "Wait here. I will gather my tools."

And then she's gone, and they are left alone with the smoking ruins of the zaith'isk and Lae'zel's cry of abject despair.

"No. It can't be. It can't! THIS WAS MY RIGHT!"

----

Rakha does not expect Lae'zel to want to speak to her. The tension between them has been harsh and cold for a week or more now, and all by Lae'zel's choice; Rakha has no reason to expect a conversation in the wake of such terrible disappointment would go well. So she says nothing, but moves over to examine the empty husk of the deadly machine.

To her surprise, though, Lae'zel stands beside her and speaks in a low mutter.

"I followed protocol," she says hoarsely. "I kept to my faith. Yet the zaith'isk might have killed me."

It is a plea for comfort, reassurance, understanding. Rakha says nothing. What can she say? This was the plan from the beginning, a plan based on Lae'zel's absolute, unshakable confidence - and the plan did not work. There is no cleansing to be had here. The worms still sit in their skulls.

Receiving no response, Lae'zel stares down balefully at the remains of the machine and then scowls tightly, fumbling for an explanation. "The ghustil tampered with it. Traitor - and there may be more still! This must be why the Inquisitor's come."

Rakha can hear shades of her own manner of speech in Lae'zel's words in this moment of strain - the accumulation of fact and fact and fact. It would be touching, perhaps, in some other scenario where the young gith's conclusion was not utterly wrong.

"The zaith'isk is supposed to kill you," she says flatly. "I saw it for myself."

"A deception," Lae'zel snaps. "Proof of the doctor's manipulations. The queen does not mislead Gith's children!" She turns away sharply. "Now hurry. We must go to the ch'r'ai and inform him of the doctor's sedition."

Rakha watches her go with an unreadable expression. She wants to believe, even now, that Lae'zel could be right, that this was a traitorous act by the doctor that could not have been anticipated. But deep down, she knows it is not true. Lae'zel was wrong. They have always been walking towards a death trap, because Lae'zel believed things that were not true.

What other wrong things has Rakha believed because of Lae'zel's confidence? Has she also been wrong to trust Wyll? To trust Karlach?

Rage simmers in her chest, undirected, formless - a rage born of humiliation and pain and deep fear mixing with the beast's everpresent hunger. The doctor dies first. And then we will speak to this Inquisitor. And if I am right, and this place was always a trap, then Y'llek's halls will run red with its own blood.

[fuedalreesespieces]

kagkik wip

wip!! idk where exactly I was supposed to go with this but I decided to post it here anyway. in kagkik feels rn...

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“And...done.” 

Kagome watched as Kikyo lifted her newly assembled hand and examined it with a keen eye. She sat limp against the warm walls of Kaede’s hut, flames licking at the edges of the nearby fire pit, Kagome’s healing supplies sprawled out over the reed mats. Before, these supplies had consisted of gauze, rubbing alcohol, and future ointments, but now her collection has expanded to include more specialized tools: adhesive, epoxy, and sanding materials. To heal a person whose wounds were not of flesh, one needed to improvise.  

“It’s golden,” Kikyo remarked, tracing down the shiny lacquered adhesive in her arms. They spiderwebbed across her skin like veins, stark against her porcelain complexion. “Beautiful.” 

Kagome beamed. “You like it?” 

Kikyo lowered her hand. “It is elegant. But no one would ever see it,” she said, alluding to the wide, voluminous sleeves of her miko clothes.  

“I’ve seen it,” Kagome pointed out. 

It was a joking remark, but Kikyo’s eyes drifted close, lips curling up in appeasement. “Then that is enough.” 

Kagome blushed, fumbling to tuck the remainder of her supplies away. The hut’s warmth, once quaint, was now stifling. Her eyes darted towards the doorway, and she shifted her thoughts towards something more suitable.  

The others had sustained minor injuries from their latest skirmish with Naraku’s incarnations – a few cuts for Inuyasha, which had healed in a moment’s notice; a thin gash on Miroku’s ankle that Sango had bandaged for him, evading his flirtations all the while. She was aware that they now meandered outside, recovering or hunting for that evening’s dinner, leaving her and Kikyo alone, as they had so often found themselves.  

Kikyo had dealt the most damage to both the enemy and herself. Her body, constructed of clay, was far too fragile to withstand even the most menial of combat. Her skin cracked and severed and fell to pieces, and each time, Kagome would collect her fallen stone limbs to reattach them, gingerly applying glue and holding Kikyo’s body in place using the strength of her own while it dried.  

Only us, Kikyo had insisted. Kagome had assumed it was because she didn’t want everyone else to see her in such a disfigured state, being reassembled like a broken clock. They were no longer enemies, and they had passed the phase of begrudging animosity, timid greetings, and half-hearted attempts at conversation. But she hadn’t understood why Kikyo would let her – the girl she had once claimed to hate – see her so vulnerable.  

Kagome didn’t understand it much now, either, but she treasured these moments alone. There were slow lines of sleepy dialogue exchanged, and sometimes only silence, but the air was always heavy, weighing down on them. There were the faint, almost imagined sounds – the hitch in Kikyo’s breath when Kagome’s wet fingers lathered her clean; the sigh she let out when Kagome ran her hands through her length of dark hair. Her eyelashes fell like a curtain as gentle palms danced across her collarbone, down the dip of her spine. Over and over, she basked in the foreign, comforting sensation of touch. 

When her eyes fluttered open, and Kikyo gazed down at her body, there was a sense of regret. As though she wished she weren’t broken so beyond repair that she could reach up and caress Kagome in return. 

[thebesthealthcareprovider]

Eyes on Dubai: Your Friendly Guide to Finding the Perfect Eye Doctor

Hey Tumblr fam! 👋 Let's talk about something we often take for granted - our eyes! 👀 If you're in Dubai and on the hunt for an eye doctor, you're in luck. This dazzling city isn't just about sky-high buildings and fancy malls; it's also home to some top-notch eye care professionals. Let's dive into everything you need to know about finding an eye doctor in Dubai!

Why Dubai for Eye Care?

Dubai isn't playing around when it comes to healthcare, especially eye care. Here's why:

🏥 State-of-the-art eye clinics and hospitals

👨‍⚕️👩‍⚕️ Internationally trained eye doctors

🔬 Cutting-edge diagnostic tools and treatments

🌐 Multilingual staff (because let's face it, medical terms are hard enough in one language!)

Types of Eye Doctors in Dubai

Before we go further, let's break down the types of eye docs you might encounter:

Optometrists: Your go-to for vision tests and glasses/contact lens prescriptions.

Ophthalmologists: These are the big guns - medical doctors who can perform eye surgeries and treat complex eye conditions.

Pediatric Ophthalmologists: For when the little ones need eye care.

Finding Your Perfect Eye Doctor Match

Choosing an eye doctor is like finding the perfect pair of frames - it needs to suit you! Here's what to look for:

Qualifications: Check their credentials and specializations.

Experience: How long have they been in the eye game?

Technology: Do they have the latest eye-examining gadgets?

Language: Can they explain that weird eye chart in a language you understand?

Location: Because nobody wants to travel across Dubai with dilated pupils!

Reviews: What are other patients saying? (But take it with a grain of salt - every eye is different!)

What to Expect at Your Eye Appointment

Nervous about your visit? Don't be! Here's a sneak peek:

Chat about your eye health and overall health (yes, they're connected!)

Visual acuity test (the classic "read the letters on the chart" test)

Refraction assessment (this determines if you need glasses or contacts)

Eye health check (they'll take a close look at your eye structures)

Dilation (optional but helpful for a thorough examination)

Common Eye Issues in Dubai

Living in Dubai comes with its own set of eye challenges:

Dry eyes: Thanks to AC and desert climate. 🏜️

Digital eye strain: From all that screen time. 📱💻

UV damage: The sun here is no joke! ☀️

Allergies: Dust can be a real pain for your peepers.

Taking Care of Your Eyes, Dubai Style

Here are some tips to keep your eyes happy in the city of gold:

Wear those stylish sunglasses - UV protection is a must!

Use artificial tears to combat dryness.

Follow the 20-20-20 rule: Every 20 minutes, look at something 20 feet away for 20 seconds.

Eat eye-healthy foods (yes, carrots are good, but so are leafy greens and fish!)

Don't skip those regular eye check-ups!

The Future of Eye Care in Dubai

Dubai's always ahead of the curve, and eye care is no exception. Keep an eye out (pun intended) for:

Advanced LASIK procedures

AI-powered diagnostic tools

Telemedicine options for eye care

Innovative treatments for age-related eye conditions

Wrap Up

There you have it, folks! Finding an eye doctor in Dubai doesn't have to be daunting. With world-class options available, you're sure to find a doc who'll help you see this beautiful city even more clearly.

Have you had any experiences with eye doctors in Dubai? Any funny stories or helpful tips? Share them in the reblogs - let's help each other out!

Remember, your eyes are precious - take care of them, and they'll take care of you! Here's to clear vision and healthy eyes in the dazzling city of Dubai! ✨👁️

[heyimanonboy]

FORGED BY MOONLIGHT

The forge burned bright against the dim morning, its heat a constant comfort in the chill of the stone-walled smithy. Geo wiped a streak of soot from his brow, his muscular arms glistening with the effort of a morning's work. The rhythmic clang of his hammer on the glowing steel echoed through the workshop, drowning out the faint chatter from the marketplace beyond.

"You've got a steady hand, Geo. Couldn't find a better smith in the whole kingdom," said the stout farmer who stood nearby, his face ruddy from the firelight. He gestured toward the nearly finished blade Geo was crafting—a scythe, its curve keen and its edge sharper than winter frost.

Geo offered a faint smile. "Only as good as the tools you care for, Dren. This'll last you through harvest and then some." His voice was low, a deep rumble that matched the crackle of the forge.

He quenched the blade in the cooling barrel, steam hissing as he did. But for a fleeting moment, Geo's hand trembled—a subtle, involuntary movement he quickly masked by shifting his grip. Lately, the tremors had been more frequent, though he blamed them on long hours and little rest.

Dren clapped him on the shoulder. "A good scythe and a strong smith—two things a man can count on in this world."

Geo grunted in acknowledgment, his attention drawn back to the forge. Yet as Dren's footsteps faded and silence settled over the smithy, an unsettling unease crept over him. The tremor wasn't the only thing haunting him these days. Waking up with dirt under his nails, clothes torn, and strange wounds he couldn't explain had become a troubling pattern.

The forge, for all its warmth, couldn't burn away the shadows lingering in his mind.

Geo had just set the scythe aside when the smithy's door swung open with a heavy creak. A group of kingdom knights strode in, their armor dulled from travel and their swords clinking at their sides. The lead knight, a broad-shouldered man with a weathered face, scanned the workshop and gave Geo a curt nod.

"Blacksmith," the knight said, his voice commanding. "We've just come from the borderlands. Our blades took a beating, and we need them seen to before we ride out again."

Geo wiped his hands on his leather apron, stepping toward the group. "I'll take a look. Put them here." He gestured to the workbench, where the knights began unbuckling their weapons.

As Geo examined the first sword—a longsword with a chipped edge—the men's voices filled the forge, their words cutting through the usual din of the flames.

"Did you see the size of that thing?" one knight muttered, his eyes wide with remembered fear.

"Massive," another replied, shaking his head. "Its claws alone could gut a horse. And its eyes—like they burned right through you."

Geo's ears perked up, though he kept his focus on the sword in his hands.

"You're talking about the beast?" he asked casually, not looking up.

The lead knight crossed his arms and leaned against the forge wall. "Aye. The damned creature's been terrorizing the outer villages. Strikes at night—leaves behind nothing but blood and broken bodies. We've been hunting it for weeks, but it's elusive. Smart."

"And deadly," another added grimly. "Lost two good men in the last encounter."

Geo set the sword down, his jaw tightening. "So why not hunt it under the moon? If it comes at night, shouldn't that be when you track it?"

The knights exchanged uneasy glances.

"Because it's suicide," the lead knight said at last. "Whatever this thing is, it owns the night. We've seen what it does to those who face it in the dark." He straightened, his tone shifting. "That's why we're forming a daytime hunting party. We think we've narrowed its den to the Blackthorn Woods."

He fixed Geo with a piercing stare. "You're a strong man, and the townsfolk speak highly of you. We could use another blade in the fight. What do you say, blacksmith?"

Geo hesitated, his hammer still in hand. The idea of venturing into the woods, of taking up arms against the creature, sent a thrill of purpose through him. But there was a weight in his chest—a nagging unease he couldn't quite shake.

"I'm no soldier," he said slowly, though the words felt hollow.

"You're more than that," the knight countered. "You're a man who knows steel. We'll make sure you're equipped. What do you say?"

The forge seemed unnaturally quiet as Geo considered the offer. His gaze drifted to the fire, its flickering flames casting shadows that danced like specters on the walls.

"All right," he said finally, his voice steady. "I'll join you."

The knights grinned, clapping him on the back as they gathered their repaired weapons.

As they left, Geo stood alone in the forge, staring into the dying embers. His hands trembled again, just slightly, and he clenched them into fists. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a growl echoed—a low, guttural sound that didn't feel entirely his own.

After the knights departed, Geo remained motionless, the door swinging shut behind them with a dull thud. The forge's fire crackled softly, but the usual comfort it brought seemed distant, muffled by the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.

He wiped his hands on his apron and stepped into the shadowed back room of the smithy, a space cluttered with unfinished projects, spare tools, and relics of a life that felt a lifetime away.

In the far corner, resting on a rack thick with dust, was his father's sword.

Geo reached for it slowly, his fingers brushing the worn leather of the hilt. The blade was nothing extraordinary—simple, unadorned, forged for practicality rather than glory. But it carried the weight of memory. His father's steady hand guiding his own as a boy, teaching him the art of crafting and the discipline of wielding.

Now, as he gripped the sword, a conflict churned within him.

"Why did I agree to this?" he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He raised the blade, its steel catching the faint glow of the forge's light. His reflection in the metal stared back—his face worn and tired, but his eyes... they seemed unfamiliar. There was something wild in them, something untamed.

He set the blade down with a clatter, his breathing uneven. For weeks, the strange wounds, the dirt beneath his nails, the vague but visceral nightmares had haunted him. And now, these knights, this beast... it all felt like pieces of a puzzle he didn't want to solve.

But the fire in his chest—the yearning for purpose, for action—wouldn't let him walk away.

Geo sheathed the sword, its weight both familiar and foreign as he strapped it to his belt. The knights' words replayed in his mind, over and over, until they were drowned out by another sound.

A growl. Low, guttural, and chilling.

It came not from the forge or the forest beyond, but from within.

Geo staggered back, gripping the workbench for support as the sound faded, leaving him alone with his ragged breath and pounding heart.

His eyes darted toward the closed door, where the knights' path awaited him. His hand brushed the hilt of his father's sword, a fragile tether to his humanity as doubt clawed at his resolve.

"Just a man," he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse. "I'm just a man."

But even as he spoke the words, he couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't entirely true.

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