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[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

-

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

-

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

-

head? empty.

-

taglist

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[aethelwyneleigh27]

Realizations

Dad!Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader

Thank you guys so much for 1k, it means the whole world for me because now once did I expect to ever have my page grown this big and not once had I imagined that I would make these many friends here who happened to be so sweet. Also to @connorsui who has been most definitely been waiting the answer to this.

So in honor of 1k, I wrote this long awaited backstory for Ghost and Lovie (Ghostie's parents) that I hope you guys will enjoy since it so happens that our beloved @ave661 has posted another Dad!Ghost render. (Credits to her again for the renders in this post <3) (Sweetie, I love you but that tag on Soap with this render was unnecessary 😭🫶)

To the people who congratulated me, through replies, likes and reblogs, I owe y'all a fat kiss. Mwahhh <333

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @thesnowurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @demidemon09

Warnings/Disclaimers: Stalking (not by Simon), Typical mentions of CoD violence?, Mentions of Simon's past abuse, Creepy guy?? (Not Simon), Mentions of violent and a bit gory descriptions on what wanted to do to the stalker, This is not proofread yet.

With the words of my mother and in true reputation style, Are you ready for it?

I think I need to say this on my account again, English is NOT my first language and all copyrights regarding the plot and some characters within the storyline belong to me. Edit: please help me y'all, I'm losing so much relevance in the span of less than a month, my recent works have gotten nothing and I'm scared that this post proves that. I think I've learned my lesson never to take breaks ever again 😭

Simon never imagined himself in this predicament, always thinking that he'd be out there somewhere, more likely drowning himself in a mission. Not even a home, he thought that if it hadn't for your persuasiveness to interact with him back then then he'd still be back in that shitty apartment complex.

Simon placed his duffle bag on the wood of the porch, the jingling of his keys while he looked for the correct one. He tried his best to make as little noise as possible, it was passed midnight, the last thing he would want was to disturb his wife and daughter from resting.

Hauling the duffle bag in and throwing it on the couch, Simon opt to see what his girls were up to. The giggling and commotion making him smile, you both were supposed to be asleep by now but you were unable to put her to rest because she's just too hyper, so that left you to entertain her by tossing her up and catching her.

"Dada..!" A squeal from the room came, the little one snapping her head to the opening of the door making you look as well, Simon took a peek from the half-way opened door.

Adorable little thing clapping her hands together, pleased that her dad is home while sitting on her mom. She got off, crawling near the edge of the bed with no sense of danger, fortunate for her that her dad is quick with catching her before you could.

You took a deep breath from the shock, looking at your husband and smiling sweetly at him. He asked you not to get off the bed as you were about to, laying next to you he snakes his arm underneath you on your waist and pulls you in.

"I missed my girls.." He said, voice deep and laced with exhaustion, despite that his hold and gaze was the warmest it could be.

"We missed you too Si, so much." You mumbled as your eyes flutter shut to enjoy his touch. You opened them to the sound of a kiss, he kissed the little one's forehead then yours.

Sometimes you vaguely remember the first time he and you met, how it even came to be, this life of domesticity. You, him and your little girl, family is a heavy word for Simon but it was just perfect. This was the family he wanted, the family that he thought he didn't deserve and never would have.

The feeling of coming home to all this started because you were so forgetful, who knew that would be the skill that brought you to him..?

• ──── ✦ ──── •

He emptied his pockets, to the lieutenant's dismay, the box of cigarettes only had one stick left. Since he was going out to smoke it anyway, he might as well get another box from the convenience store nearby. He took his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out, hearing a little commotion that peeked his interest.

Simon never paid much mind to whatever was going on within his apartment building despite the many gossips that were present within the building and the renters. So it happens that the old lady next to his place mentions how they'll be a new tenant in the other apartment next to his.

'Thank God' Simon thought, not that he was particularly religious but he'd been hoping for the longest time for the former renter to leave because let's be honest, who wants to live next to a frat boy with no sense of shame or consideration given that walls are thin? Little did he know he'd be blessed with the next one..

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.." Simon hears a voice from a little below him, he'd only register what had happened after the fact. Poor girl carrying this box bumped into him a little too hard, so much so that she stumbled back a bit.

You stared up to the 6'4 man blinking, he only shrugged it off to which you smiled to. You tried to make small talk since you were new and it wouldn't hurt to at least know one person right? After all, you were trying to step out a bit of your comfort zone.

"Hi.. I'm [Name].." He only stared at you for a while and replied, "Simon.." you gave him a warm smile before nodding and continuing to bring the boxes into your new apartment while your new neighbor entered the elevator.

You cut the boxes open to start unpacking, a few minutes in and you decided to go on a short break, you rummaged through the small box of food only to find that the recently bought box of tea was empty. You sighed at this, humming as you remembered the convenience store you passed by earlier on the way to the apartment.

Taking your keys and locking the door behind you, you made your way out the complex and walked a few blocks, you only started to notice how late it was with the streetlights coming on even though the sun is only about to set. That's something to get used to, hmm?

The cool breeze hits your skin as you enter, scent of faint instant coffee and many other kinds of foods and products made themselves known. You walked around for a while, checking on what other things you might need but then you tried to remind yourself that you were saving up and on a budget so you took a box of tea and walked up to the register.

You heard footsteps behind you falling in line, after placing the box on the counter, you searched your pockets for your wallet.

'Shit..!' you cursed yourself out mentally trying not to panic as Simon basically watches you frantically patting your pockets, you left your wallet back at the apartment. "You left your wallet-" Simon stated the obvious, "I'll cover it.." there wasn't even a time to argue with him, he just stepped next to you and placed the pack of cigarettes.

"I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the apartment" You insisted to which Simon only shrugged and declined, it's just a box of tea and it's not like it'll make him go bankrupt, besides he liked your taste, the one you got happened to be his favorite brand.

Since you were headed in the same place anyway, you and Simon walked back together side by side, however one thing you did find odd was when he gently took you wrist and pulled you inward next to him, he was the one now closest to the road.

The walk back was silent, a comfortable silence. A few days after that encounter, you made sure to make an effort for him to know that you appreciated his gesture back at the convenience store. The lieutenant was alarmed by the knock on his door, opening it to find no person but a tupperware filled with buttery shortbread cookies.

He smiled at how tiny the plastic container looked in his hands, how he noticed the note attached "Thanks for the tea, this isn't that special but I hope you like it -[Name]" and the Sanrio themed stickers stuck onto the lid and on the top part of the tiny note. You ran out of sticky notes..

Simon found himself snacking on those cookies later on, oddly enough, they reminded him of his mom.. how she used to love baking back then, it was her way of escape whenever Simon's "father" wasn't home, as well as gardening.

For the first time in a while Simon "Ghost" Riley let out a smile that wasn't smug or a smirk but a genuine smile, one that had warmth to it, one that no matter how hard his mind tried to surppress it, his body refused to.

It didn't take long for you and Simon to get to know each other a bit, little by little it seemed like you two were becoming like friends rather than just neighbors. Let's be honest, who just randomly gives their neighbors weekly baked goods for the sole reason of "just because they wanted to"?

You found yourself always looking forward to the Friday nights chilling with him at the rooftop, mugs with hot tea on hand while he smoked and you read.

Listening to his stupid jokes and remarks that slowly turn into deep conversations and life things. Simon was just... far more open than he's ever been, sure he's talked about his day before to his comrades but never like this, not in a way where he's pouring his heart out, letting you in on how he feels about certain things.

He just got back from a mission, a rough one to be exact. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion as he walked the streets near the apartment complex, no space for his bike so he had to leave it somewhere private while he fidgeted with it's keys.

Simon swore that he almost jumped out of his own body, first instinct being to push you off but he recognized you. He gave you a questioning look, hands were shaking as you so desperately linked you arm around his.

"Hmm?" He hummed, hearing you mumbling something but it was incoherent to his ears.

"Behind us.. please Si, help..." Come to think if it, you never knew when Simon turned into Si. Best believe he knew and still remembers when perfectly.. not the time, there's a serious threat, he didn't look. He didn't need to, guessing by the heavy footsteps, some creep decided to follow you at this hour.

He slowly slipped his arm away from your grip and snaked it around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side while the two of you continued treading closer to the complex. You closed your eyes for a few seconds at a time hoping it would end.

• ──── ✦ A few days later ✦ ──── •

Knocking, frantic knocking was what Simon heard at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so why the sudden visit? He opened the door and saw you, Simon knew something was off from the look on your face, you looked pale as if you were sick to your stomach while trying so desperately to catch your breath.

"Can I please come in.. Simon..?" You asked in between breaths. You looked around you, especially behind you, body shivering a bit. He took notice of this and had no hesitation, he pulled you in by your arm. His grip firm but gentle, Simon closed the door behind him.

"Remember that guy who was creeping around when I asked for your help..?" You tried to explain but Simon already knew the moment your mouth opened. You had a stalker.. it was best to call the cops on shit like this.

Simon did his best even though not knowing much about how to comfort someone, he did well in making you feel safe without having to tell you that he'll do so, you just know it in your gut that he'd protect you even if it's just now.

Your breath picked up, slowly backing away from the door as you heard footsteps, clenching your fists and hoping that he didn't see you enter Simon's door. Simon wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place and from further backing away from the door.

You felt his palm drag up and down your back, it was extremely warm, it stopped for a while. His arm wrapped around your waist, other hand in your hair pushing your head down a bit so it was buried in his chest while you gripped his shirt. Simon felt your trembling body against him slowly relax.

"Deep breaths, angel.." The nickname he whispered would've made you smile under any other circumstance but not right now, you needed to calm your nerves before you panic and make an impulsive decision that could hurt yourself. Like instructed, you followed along Simon's demonstration, pressing his forehead onto yours maybe just a bit too intimately.

You winced at the loud sound of banging on the door, you knew it too well. Simon shoved the handle of his combat knife in your hand, he told you that if anything were to happen, protect yourself with it.

As soon as the Lieutenant swung the door open, you could hear punches, things knocking over and among other things, your stalker's voice.

You'd never forget that, how pitchy it was. Nails on the chalkboard was the best way to describe it, how the man was cackling almost made you annoyed. Simon called on security and the man was dealt with, you came out from hiding and saw both fear and anger in Simon's eyes.

You would never know how much he wanted to tear that man's heart after skinning him alive for even bringing fear into your eyes.

Simon "I care too much for someone I just met" Riley finally saw how his knuckles and fingernails were caked with blood, went off to go wash it and himself.

Getting back to you after half an hour, you reached out for him only for him to withdraw, you looked at him confused and he looks at you with pure guilt..

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh Simon.. I'm not scared.." you smiled at him. He reached out a shaky hand to you, hesitating before closing his hand back.

You took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a small kiss, hoping it calms his nerves. Well it did the opposite, it even more overwhelming for him having you kiss his palm while you look up at him, watching you nudge your face into his palm so invitingly.

The way your lashes just sat perfectly atop your cheeks while you slowly blinked up at him. Pressing the same scarred and calloused hands that almost killed a man that night on your face and rubbing the back with you thumb.

Simon had never felt that much guilt before for hurting someone, only after he saw the look in your eyes, which in turn were not something he caused. For the first time in his life too, Simon was comforted by something or rather someone immensely..

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 2 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys are slowly settling into your apartment, looking for the terrorist group they’re hunting down, while memories begin resurfacing for Simon.

Word Count: ~ 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of death, toxic relationship, toxic family, abusive dad, panic attack/ptsd episodes, guns, violence, prob terribly inaccurate to anything military (I’m trying my hardest ok😭)

A/N: this part is mainly for worldbuilding, I’m alr working on part 3 but felt like y’all might want a little update, lmk what you want to see, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

It was safe to say that Ghost and Price had a long conversation that night.

“How much does she know?”

The captain had asked, hat hanging over his head before he picked it off between two fingers, setting it on the bedside table in a guest room. The two available rooms were split with Gaz and Price in one, and Ghost and Soap in the other.

Simon thought for a solid moment. He hadn’t told you anything, other than he was going to the military. He’d stayed over at your place maybe once before, years earlier, and all he’d told you was that he had a mission, an important one, something he couldn’t tell you about. To keep you safe.

It wasn’t a lie. At first, you’d been angry that he wouldn’t tell you, but something must’ve clicked at 15 because that was when you stopped questioning it altogether. Then again, at that point, he’d rarely texted you or called you at all. It had been years since physical words were exchanged at this point.

He felt bad about it, but with the last words exchanged between the two of you…it made regret and grief flare up in him all over again.

~

You were pacing. Back and forth, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you burnt a trail in the carpet with how frenzied you looked. Shock, grief, anger, and pure disbelief mixed all into one, your body language reflecting as much.

He hadn’t even taken his mask off yet, leaning against the wall behind him in the home his mother had grown up in. The home he’d grown up in. A home you’d visited before, only because of the court-deemed custody that your father somehow got.

“You didn’t come to the funeral.”

His harsh voice finally rang out, and your pacing stopped. You turned to look at him, defensiveness automatically rendering itself in your expression. Always so easy to read. If only you were like that now.

“I couldn’t make it in time. You know that, Simon.”

You said, and his temper flared. Every single lesson he’d had drilled into him in his military-deemed anger management classes went out of the window at that. At how you defended yourself, even when he knew you could’ve made it on time for that funeral. Or at least he thought you could’ve.

“Really? Or did you know about this, huh?”

He accused, anger building in his tone as he pushed off the wall, stalking closer to you, now pacing in his own slower, more predatory manner. Your eyes widened at his accusation.

“You think I was plotting to kill your mum? The fuck is wrong with you?”

Simon knew it was outrageous, there was no way in hell you would’ve done it. Not when you’d known her, even if only for a little bit. But Ghost….Ghost had been betrayed too many times. He was desperate for any answer, any way to get rid of you so he didn’t have to deal with any reminder of his mother, or Tommy, or his little nephew that had been so painfully young.

Maybe you didn’t understand, but if he made himself believe this…then you wouldn’t be around him anymore, and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone killing you like they had everyone else around him.

“What about Tommy? Or Joseph? Didn’t make it to theirs either, did you.”

“Simon, I came as soon as I could, you know that. I was in that camp for a month, there was nothing I could-“

“That’s convenient, isn’t it.”

He said drily, stalking closer, hand moving to the hilt of his gun. You didn’t notice, probably because you had no military training or anything of the sort. If he wanted to kill you right now, make you disappear, he could. Easily, too. He could already think of how he’d do it, the silencer on his gun covering the sound as he would shoot you, once in the head, twice in the heart, then he would take you down into the sewers, and you’d disappear-

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Your voice, slightly scared now, and your body language showing just how intimidated and panicked you were, was wobbly at best. Tears welled in your eyes as you opened the door to leave out of the front, your car, a black jeep you weren’t old enough to drive yet, but did anyway thanks to the fake ID you’d made, parked in the rocky driveway.

He snatched your arm up, yanking you back into the room as he pressed you against the wall he’d previously been leaning on. He leaned close, breath coming through the fabric of his baklava and speaking softly, like the old Simon would, to you in your ear.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know.” He began.

“He was your dad, he was all you had, wasn’t he? Maybe you were jealous, or angry about what happened to him. What I did to him.”

He almost whispered to you, as if it was some forbidden knowledge. Your small body was stiff against the wall, unconsciously leaning away from him. You were terrified. He could feel it.

“You’re insane. Completely fuckin’ insane.”

You said, trying to squirm away, and he let you gain an inch of room, only to force you another inch against the wall. One more and your breathing would be strained if you could breathe at that.

“I’ll let you off, but if I find out you had anything to do with this, with her…”

He didn’t get to finish the rest before you struggled free, and you made it to your car quicker than ever before, and drove off, not caring about any speed limits or anything.

~

“Simon? You here?”

Price’s voice snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been in, and he gave a little grunt in response. Shaking himself out of it, he tried to remember what the captain’s question had been. Something about what you knew.

“The bare minimum.”

“Good. She seems like a good kid, keep her outta this.”

Simon didn’t mention the fact that you had already faced minor charges multiple times, some for breaking and entering or assault and battery, most of which were dismissed by a judge he suspected was paid off. Or the fact that you’d used a fake ID for your car for multiple years. He would know, considering he’d asked Gaz to find you multiple times. You weren’t an easy one to find, almost as if you’d tried to wipe yourself off the grid before turning back on it.

You weren’t a good kid by any means, but by your age, he’d probably been killing people already, so he supposed there were worse things to be doing.

“Roger that.”

Price gave a small nod of confirmation, clapping him on the shoulder as he went to walk to the room that he was sharing with Gaz.

“Get some rest, Simon. We’ll get directions from Laswell tomorrow. Don’t stress over it.”

Despite himself, Simon gave a little nod.

If only he was stressing over things as simple as terrorists and covert warfare.

~

Soap, surprisingly enough, woke up first. It was around 5:30 AM when he did, and Simon was still fast asleep on the bed beside him.

“Scuse me, Lt.”

He mumbled while sliding out of the bed, and walking to where he thought the kitchen probably was, and after wandering around, he found one small dim light on in the general kitchen area. You were standing in the kitchen, wrapping some sort of spandex-looking bandage material around your left knee. The type to help support it, in the case of an injury.

You were wearing a pair of blank shorts that didn’t go nearly far enough down your thighs, and what looked like an old jersey, with a faded number ‘14’ on it. Your right knee had a knee pad on, your left knee pad laying on the table. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was braided.

You both just stared at each other for a minute, before he grinned and obnoxiously whistled.

“Lookin’ good, lass. Where ya headed?”

He asked, already watching the gears turn in your head as you tried to decode his thick accent. Surprisingly, it didn’t take you nearly as long as he thought it would. Usually, new people had to take a few seconds, but you responded almost immediately.

“Practice.”

You replied bluntly, either not a morning person, or just not a talker. By the blank look on your face, he was just assuming you were also a heartless bastard like Ghost. But even Simon Riley had his tells, and he was sure you did too.

“What the hell’ve they got you practicing for at 5 in the mornin’?” He asked, and you looked at him for a moment, as if trying to see if what he’d said was a joke. As if he was stupid. He was not stupid.

“Volleyball. I’m on the team. Got a scholarship.”

His brows raised at that. Another blunt answer. You really were Simon’s sister, weren’t you? And to get a scholarship in volleyball…he hadn’t even known you’d gone to a private school, let alone the fact that you played sports.

I mean, sure, he’d sort of assumed you might based on your muscular thighs and arms he was entranced by, or the sheer unmoving look you always had, barely changing. Volleyball girls always had nice asses though, and you weren’t an exception, that was for sure.

You were either telepathic or had seen him staring because, with a simple snap of your fingers, he had flinched out of his daze.

“Eyes up here, MacTavish.”

You said in a mildly annoyed tone, and he gave you a slightly pouty look.

“Can’t blame me for looking at it when it’s right there, now can you?”

You had only given him another annoyed glance, before slinging a bag over your shoulder and walking out. He didn’t fail to notice the way you checked the peephole before walking out. Or how your eyes darted to the windows consistently, or the nearest available exit.

He didn’t blame you, living alone as a girl in this end of town, you had to be cautious.

~

They had been at this all day.

Laswell had radioed them in earlier, probably around noon after they’d raided your pantry, which only really had bread in various forms in it. Your fridge wasn’t much better, only cheap lunch meats, lettuce, tomatoes, and a few miscellaneous vegetables and fruits.

Since then, they’d been on the hunt for any suspicious characters, any sign of the terrorist group that had gotten away. It had taken a bit of travel, but a few miles out, they’d passed a van, white, with four burly shadowy figures in the darkened windows. Windows too dark to even be legal.

“Armed men, four of ‘em, cap.”

Soap had said, and Price had only given a nod, taking a U-turn to trail the vehicle. It wasn’t every day you would see any military men driving in a white van with tinted windows.

It had only escalated from there.

The van had stopped near an old alleyway with no people around, failing to notice T141, who were now all trailing on foot. They’d left the car behind with Gaz, despite his protests. They needed someone able to drive, and Soap was needed to disable any possible bombs. They were dealing with terrorists here.

Slowly crawling up the building to the right of the alleyway, Ghost let his gun peek down into it through some crumbling brick on the sides of the roof’s edge.

“We droppin’ em’?”

He asked quietly over the radio, and Price, on the building roof opposite of him, replied.

“Not yet. If we can get one alive, we’ll want ‘im for interrogation. Three of ‘em on my count.”

Soap, to the left of Ghost, nodded mainly to himself, his gun focusing on the man closest to a trash can, Price on the man to the right of him, and Ghost to the man leading the other two. The fourth was lingering behind a bit, examining the surroundings. Paranoid.

“Gaz, start bringing in our exfil.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“On your mark, Sergeant.”

With that, the first relatively silent shot went off, and two more followed until all that was left was the one man, who immediately took cover and jumped through the open window of the nearly abandoned building Price was on the roof of.

“Shit. Get him.”

Price’s voice cursed over the radio, and Gaz driving the car came into view only moments later, as Ghost and Soap hopped down from the roof of the building, taking the same route as the escaped terrorist through the building, and clearing it one floor at a time.

Hours later, it felt like they’d searched the whole damn city and come up with absolutely nothing. Whoever they’d missed had disappeared completely, and possibly contacted outside forces of their presence. They had to be careful with this.

“We headin’ back?” Soap asked, and Price replied.

“Affirmative. I’ll let Laswell know what happened.”

And so they headed back to the apartment, only to find you completely not there. Gaz got there first, gun still in hand as he cleared the apartment. Just in case.

“Clear.” He radioed over,

The rest of the boys filed in after that, taking the time to take showers, in the hope that you wouldn’t notice their bloodstained clothes. It was only after they had all changed into casual clothes that Soap remembered about you.

“Anyone know where the girl is?”

Gaz seemed to stir at that, immediately on his feet, when Ghost pushed him back down into the chair he was sitting in at the dinner table.

“She’s at school, lads.” His rough voice spoke, and Gaz and Soap both made an “ohhhh” sound at the answer. It was obvious, but they hadn’t gone to school in…a long time, and you were almost an adult now, so they tended to forget about that.

“Where does she go?” Price asked, taking a sip of his cup of water. Ghost shrugged.

“Some private school, said she got a scholarship for volleyball or somethin’,” Soap added, and Ghost shot a tiny glare at him. The fact that a random Scottish man knew more about you than Simon Riley, your technical brother, wasn’t making him too happy. Soap only gave him a cheeky grin in return.

“You seem to know an awful lot about her, Soap.”

Kyle then spoke up, carefully eying Simon and Johnnie. Even as Simon huffed out of his nose, taking a sip of water. His lips were chapped, Gaz noticed. Soap gave a little shrug, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Just curious about ‘er is all. We are living in her house, after all.” He answered, and Price stood up, mumbling something about a smoke break while walking across the kitchen to reach the balcony, where he smoked. The first time he’d tried to smoke inside, you’d grabbed it straight from his fingers, and thrown it into the sink before running cold water over it.

It took him a minute to realize that had only been yesterday night.

The week went by quickly, and the boys slowly got used to your schedule. More like they just started fitting into the routine you had, really. Having four random military men inside of your house wasn’t easy, especially when they kept leaving the toilet seat up in the bathroom in the hallway.

“Couldn’t just put the seat down, could they..”

You mumbled to yourself late into the night, slamming the seat down as hard as you could without breaking it. Every time they left it up, you made sure to put it down hard, making enough noise to wake them up. Distantly, you could’ve sworn you heard Johnny’s laughter from the room he was in with Simon, before a low “Shut it.” and a “Roger that, Lt.” was faintly audible.

You had practice almost every night, even some on weekends, which made sense considering you were the team captain for the junior varsity of your school. Once you became a Senior next year, you’d probably get team captain of the full varsity team. A big responsibility, but one you seemed to enjoy, even when some days you would come home, lock yourself in your room, and fall straight asleep without eating anything.

Where they went every day, you never asked. Didn’t want to.

One night, Price walked into the kitchen, where you kept a washer and dryer for the clothes as well, tucked into the room where it wasn’t easily noticed, and saw you pouring hydrogen peroxide on some bloodstains in their clothes. It was strong, stronger than anything you could legally get from a pharmacy, he could tell that much.

Your eyes both met, and you didn’t waver from his stare, and he didn’t from yours.

“You aren’t going to ask questions?” He asked, voice a deep rumble. Your eyes shifted away at that, back to the clothes. As if hiding whatever gleamed within them, the knowledge you had, or what you’d seen. What you knew they did every day.

“Better for all of us if I don’t.”

You’d replied simply, voice still relatively neutral, the barest amount of a British accent lingering even when you’d spent so many years in America. You almost mumbled it, as if used to speaking quietly. Based on the small fragments he knew of Simon’s past, and his father, one that you both shared, he wasn’t surprised. It would be a hard habit to break.

Whatever had kept you from interacting much with Price must’ve changed after that night, because you showed up more after that. It was late at night, and you looked beat, but he could still see the gears working behind your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked as you walked over to where he was sitting in the bed he and Gaz shared, and sat down next to him on it, showing him a notebook. He recognized what was on it, a court of some sort, a net in the middle, and a rotation of numbers, with all the enemy patterns and numbers on the other side of the net.

“Help.”

You stated simply, and he nodded before you explained to him the basics of volleyball. He only really knew the frequently adjusted rules he’d seen on the Olympics sometimes, so it was a lot of explaining, but after that, the both of you were straight to work on finding a rotation and pattern that would work to beat the team that you’d lost to twice this season.

“If 28 is your hitter, why not move them back row, to move in for the kill?”

“It would leave our defenses entirely open. A tip could lose the point and serve, and when we got the serve back, 14 would be serving. She doesn’t do well with serving under pressure. 28 needs to stay front row as long as possible to block.”

“Got it, so..”

He would admit, you were not stupid, and that was for sure. You knew everyone on your team’s strengths and weaknesses and used them to your advantage. It was almost like looking at a younger, female version of himself. Always taking charge, always thinking ahead.

And Johnny…he was obnoxious.

Always flirting with you in any way he could, making random jokes just to hear your tiny laugh or the snort you usually made instead. He couldn’t help it, even when the rest of the guys were getting sick of hearing him.

But, he had his uses, too.

When the remote would break down? Don’t worry, he only took it entirely apart, replaced and tweaked it so it would work, and put it all back together with his nails as a screwdriver.

When you were in an especially foul mood? His terrible jokes came in handy, not because you were laughing at them, but at how stupid he looked telling these jokes, chest puffed out like a proud bird when he saw you snort or your lips twitch, even though he didn’t know whether you were laughing with him or at him.

Johnny was smarter than you originally thought, as well. Had incredibly complicated math homework, and giving you a serious headache? Somehow, the bastard knew exactly how to do it.

“How do you know that equation.”

“It’s simple, really, I use it all the time for me explosives. Reminds me of the time I and the Lt planted them all over, you should’ve seen-“

“On topic, Johnny.”

“Right, sorry.”

But living with military men did have downsides, more obvious than them leaving the toilet seat up, forgetting to do the dishes when it was their day or the same for laundry, or messing up the guest beds. (Though Gaz never forgot about his responsibilities, even taking the time to make you dinner when you would get home late with what little ingredients you had.)

You were a quiet person, and Gaz had noticed it first. How you rolled on your feet, careful not to make noise, not even noticing how you were doing it. Or the way that unless you were slamming the toilet seat down for the umpteenth time, you took extra care in placing things down gently, not dropping them. It was an odd contrast with your blunt, slightly harsh demeanor that reminded him of Simon.

But it had been Gaz that made you fully remember what these men had gone through when you had been scared shitless because of Soap purposefully sneaking up behind you and scaring you, and accidentally letting out a small scream that was more like a yell. Instinct had kicked in, muscle memory as well, and before his mind even knew whose scream it was, his body was moving.

He’d tackled Soap straight to the floor, hands around his throat.

“The fuck, Kyle-“ Johnny had choked out, and it had been Price who’d snatched Gaz up, restraining his hands against his back while you watched in slight sympathy.

It had taken him only a few seconds to calm back down and figure out what the hell was happening, at which he sighed, giving Soap a regretful look.

“Sorry, don’t know what got into me.” He mumbled, and Johnny only stood up, brushing his knees off, and patted Kyle softly on the back.

“Don’t. I get it.” The Scotsman said, before walking out. When he glanced at you, it was the empathy for him that Kyle found most odd. The fact that you seemed to understand.

It was only weeks later that he understood why you could empathize with him over his actions.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

[lovestruckelf]

Hi, I stumbled upon your post that you wanted to write a one shot and I think I happen to have an idea. It’s Thranduil x reader one shot. Reader asks him for an archery class but the elven king himself didn’t practice for centuries. Thranduil agrees because he has a crush on reader, but is really nervous in the process. And during their one on one class he obviously tries to find out if the feelings are mutual. Please don’t limit yourself on how sweet or dirty it could be. TIA!

Thank you so much for your request and my first one shot! I adored your idea and it was so much fun to write. Gave me all the giddies. I hope I did it justice <3

Please enjoy x

JUST LET GO (ao3 link)

Grabbing your bow and quiver full of freshly made arrows, you venture out into the forest of Mirkwood to practice your skills. Being a warrior of Mirkwood, it is essential for you to stay on top of your game. Although you are a relatively young elf being almost two centuries old, you were still fast becoming one of Mirkwood’s finest even though you had not yet seen war. Your name was known among your peers and mentors for a reason, however, not for your skills with a bow. Your skills lay with the sword but this was not enough for you. Being the young, tenacious elf you are, you sought to be the best in all forms of defence and the Mirkwood elves were known for their skilled archers. Being a proud Woodland warrior, you would not tarnish that reputation. The goal of one day joining the King’s guard was a priority and you knew that being skilled and highly regarded in both the sword and the bow would better your chances.

As you walked through the halls with your weapon, you didn’t notice the King catch a glimpse of you walking by from within a nearby room. He was speaking with one of his advisors but when his eyes caught sight of your determined face with the beautiful shade of your hair that was uniquely yours, his attention was elsewhere. The King had first taken notice of you when he was observing a training lesson from his private balcony which overlooked the kingdom. The way you moved with such poise and elegance, taking down your opponents as if it were child’s play. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you were dancing around with the sword. Being the swordsman he was, Thranduil decided to take it upon himself to conduct a few of your group training sessions. These were rare and no one knew it but it was just an excuse to learn more about you. The first time he had challenged you in front of your peers rendered him speechless. Your swords would clash and the looks you gave him with that cheeky little smirk each time you blocked his attacks made the usually composed and strong ellon weak at the knees.

Thranduil looked back to his adviser and quickly excused himself, intrigued about where you could be heading with such determination in your stride. He decided to follow you from a distance, curious that you carried your bow and quiver. With your eyes forward, you reached the entrance to the palace and walked through the gate towards the dense forest. You found the perfect spot to practice your shooting and set yourself up, removing your quiver from your back and placing it on the ground leaning it up against a boulder. Closing your eyes, you took in the gentle musical tones of the forest around you, tuning yourself into the surroundings. Loading the bow with an arrow, you opened your eyes and marked a dead leaf hanging from the branch of a nearby tree. A perfect target for practice. Raising the bow up and pulling the string back to your cheek, you squinted your eyes to lock onto your target and held your breath as you gently released the arrow.

Missed.

Taking a breath, you tell yourself that you’re warming up as you load another arrow into your bow, and once again take aim at the dead leaf. You squint your eyes again focusing your vision, holding your breath to steady your hand, and fire the arrow across the way towards the leaf.

Another miss.

Being the perfectionist you are, you feel a slight sense of frustration building up inside you. You were an elf! You should be naturally skilled with the bow. The prince makes it look so easy. You take a deep breath, pushing down the frustration and focus on the leaf once more. Analysing how it moves on the gentle breeze. You weren’t aware, however, of a pair of stormy blue and silver eyes watching you from a small distance. They watched your every move; the way your chest stilled when you held your breath, the squint of your eyes just before you released an arrow, how tall and proud you stood with the bow pulled taut. You were a vision of perfection, and you didn’t know it, but you were the beginning of the King’s undoing. Thranduil watched as you loaded a bow for the third time and released an arrow towards the leaf. The projectile just skimmed past the side of it and you released a sigh of defeat. “How does the prince do this?!” you exclaimed, without realising there were ears to hear you.

An involuntary chuckle escaped the King's lips and the sound made you load another arrow and pull it taut as you snapped your body around to search for where the sound came from. Using your acute elven eyesight, you searched in between the trees and through the long grass but could not see any sign of disturbance. That’s when a slow movement caught your eyes from behind a tree and you pulled the bowstring taut against your face one more time. “Whoever you are, I would advise you to reveal yourself.” Your breath is controlled and your hands steady. Movement could be seen as the tall ellon took a step from behind the tree and faced you with his hands up as a sign of peace.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle. Although, judging by your aim I do not have much reason to worry about being injured”, Thranduil said with a small smirk. You immediately put the bow down, gently loosening your grip on the string and the arrow fell to the ground. You bow your head low and begin apologising. “My King, please forgive me! I did not realize who it was when I aimed my weapon at you!”

Thranduil lets his hand fall back to his sides as he gently smirks at you. “Worry not, no harm was done and like I said, I’m not sure I was at any real risk to begin with.” You bring your face up to look upon your King’s and see his smirk. You thought to yourself, “Is he… teasing me?”. Surely not, he was the King! He was always strictly business. “My Lord, I fear you would be correct. Still, it can’t hurt to at least look threatening to a potential attacker.”

Thranduil nods his head, eyes never leaving yours. “No, I suppose you’re right. And you did do just that. You looked extremely… powerful.” Your eyes stare at Thranduil’s across the way and you’re a little stunned. Did the King of Mirkwood just give you a compliment? You’re unsure how to respond so you bend down to pick up your arrow from the ground and load your bow again. “Excuse me, my Lord, I must continue practicing my skills. As you have unfortunately witnessed, they are lacking.”

Thranduil did not take his eyes off you as he watched you bend over to retrieve your arrow. He started to feel uncomfortable as his thoughts wandered, imagining you in that position in front of him. He quickly shook his head of the thoughts before you turned back around to face him, not wanting you to see the look in his eyes. “Please, don’t let me interrupt you.” Thranduil gestured for you to continue with a motion of his hand. You got the distinct impression that Thranduil was not going to leave and you turn your head over your shoulder slightly. “Is it your wish to stay and observe, my Lord?” you asked nervously. “In fact it is. Would you mind?” The King responded, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “If it is my King’s wish then I would not deny you but perhaps I should take advantage of this situation a little.” You replied with the confidence to momentarily wind Thranduil in surprise. Thranduil stood tall and froze for a second at your words before speaking. “T… take advantage, you say? What were you thinking?” his mind going to places he could not speak of.

Surely your elvish ears had deceived you but you swore you heard the great King of Mirkwood stutter. “Well, you are a formidable warrior, my Lord. Your experience with weaponry rivals all others within the realm and you have challenged me in training with our abilities of the sword. Will you not now offer your mentorship to assist me with refining my skills with the bow?” Thranduil stood there taking in your innocent request, shaking off the images his mind conjured up when you mentioned taking advantage of the situation. He chuckled to himself at how foolish he could have been to believe you might have suggested a different activity. “Ah, I fear that I would not be able to teach you anything more than what your mentor has shared, my Lady. As you know, my skills lay with the sword, and I have not picked up a bow in many many hundreds of years, so I will be a little… rusty. My son would be a far better teacher.”

Feeling disappointed by his response, you decided to press the request. “Yes, my Lord. Legolas is certainly skilled with the bow, however, he is not here,” You say as you move your head around indicating the lack of the prince’s presence. “And you are. Come, show me the skills of the Elvenking. You cannot perform any worse than myself.”. You hold the bow out in front of you indicating that the King should take it. Thranduil looked from your eyes, to the bow and back up to your eyes while swallowing. It was a challenge, and he could not back down from it. “Very well, just do not expect much,” he said as he took the bow.

As his hand came down to grab the weapon, Thranduil accidentally brushed the top of yours which gripped it tightly. Electricity shot from both your hands and you both looked into each other's eyes for but a moment. Your breath hitched in your chest as did his and you saw his pupils dilate minutely. You looked away as you began to feel a little warm and handed him an arrow. Thranduil swallowed hard and took the arrow from you, loading it into the bow. “Where were you aiming before you caught me?” he asked teasingly. You looked up at him and gave him a small smile in return, “The low-hanging dead leaf just above the river” He looked in the direction you pointed and saw the leaf in question. Raising the bow and taking aim, he took only a second to lock onto the target before releasing the arrow. The leaf was shot from the branch and the arrow landed in a log on the opposite side of the river.

You stand there with your mouth slightly open, “What was that you said about being… rusty, was it?” Thranduil stood tall, a little proud with himself, hoping you would be impressed. “It was an inanimate object, hardly a challenge” he teased. You scoff, “Oh thank you very much!” you reply a little offended by his statement. It was an inanimate object that you had failed to hit. Realising how you may have taken his meaning, Thranduil turned to look at you, “My Lady, no offence was intended. You just lack the practice. Come stand here and I’ll guide your hand.” He suggested as he motioned for you to stand in front of him.

You hesitated for a moment, realising how close you would be standing to your King. The idea both excited you and made you a little uncomfortable. Sensing your unease, Thranduil held out a hand and looked at you, “Come, I do not bite... unless it is your wish”. Your eyes shot up to his and you noticed his mischievous little smirk. Blood began rushing to your face from the forwardness of his words and you weren’t sure how to respond. You began fumbling with words that tried to form, “My L… Lord. I… would never…” but you were quickly cut off by Thranduil chuckling but still holding out his hand. “My Lady, I tease. Please take my hand and let’s refine these skills of yours”.

Taking a deep breath and with your mind reeling, you slowly reach out your hand which was slightly trembling and placed it within his own. When he felt the warmth of your palm in his, Thranduil gently closed his fingers around it as though he was grasping the most delicate flower. The same electricity that was briefly felt before was now ignited and both of your senses came alive. You both looked from your joined hands to the other’s face and took in the moment, the silence being broken by Thranduil’s words, “Shall we?” he asked as his blue-silver eyes bore into yours. “Please” you responded but the word came out as more of a whisper as you were too lost in the moment.

Gently, Thranduil pulled you in front of him and handed you the bow with an arrow for you to load it with. He instructed you to aim it next to his arrow that was still lodged in the log across the river. Bringing the bow string up to your face as you pulled it taut you felt Thranduil’s breath on your ear as he brought his lips down to the side of your face. “May I?” he asked, seeking permission to place his hand on your arms. Too scared to speak for fear of fumbling the words, you just nodded your head while you kept your breathing in check. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of his body behind yours as his arms came around your form, enveloping you within his long limbs as his hands gently grasped your wrists which were on the bow and the string. “Breathe” he whispered in your ear as he felt your body tense under his touch. “I believe I see the issue. Do you usually hold your breath before you fire an arrow?”

Again, worried to speak from fear of embarrassment you just nodded your head. “That's what is holding you back, my Lady.” Thranduil’s right hand that was grasping your right wrist, which was in place pulling the bowstring taut, suddenly relaxed its grip as he slowly slid his palm along your forearm trying to relax your body. He was taking in the moment as much as you were and he felt his heart flutter as his hand roamed your skin. You let out a sigh not from becoming relaxed, but from the deep sensations that were building within you from his touch. Thranduil heard your exhale and kept his voice low and soft while he spoke in your ear, “That’s it,” he whispered, “Let go, feel the earth around you. Allow the sensations to pour into your mind” You briefly closed your eyes as the sensations were becoming too much to handle but not the ones of which he spoke. Ever so carefully, he brought his right hand over the top of yours which was controlling the arrow while his left remained holding your left wrist. Gently, he moved the bow slightly as his face was almost resting on the side of yours, intending on seeing exactly what you see. “There. Are you ready?” he whispered again. Nodding your head once more, Thranduil smiled slightly and almost undid you with his next command, “Then let go.”.

You found yourself letting go in more ways than one. Yes, you released the arrow but as it flew across the way, you also felt your self-control letting go and realised that the King had you so worked up that you would do anything he desired. As fast as this realisation hit you, the arrow landed perfectly next to Thranduil’s. The King had yet to release you as he watched the arrow fly, he remained in place as it landed where it was intended. Even when it hit the target, he did not move his face or arms. “There, you see? You just need to breathe and let go”. Still holding the bow and being held by Thranduil, you slowly turned your head over your shoulder to look at him. He noticed your breathing had increased and he swallowed a little, feeling nervous, and looking down at your lips then back up at your eyes. “Yes, like that” he whispered, his lips centimetres away from yours, “Breathe.” He was telling you just as much as he was telling himself. “Just…” he moved closer, “…like…”, he closed the gap further as he looked for any hesitation in your eyes, “…that…” and when he saw none, he closed the space between you and placed his lips tenderly on yours. You felt your entire body react to the feel of his lips on yours and your eyes fluttered shut.

Thranduil was feeling the effects as deeply as you were. This outcome had not been his intent, it was not his goal when he followed you out here but he was savouring each second. How many times had he imagined you this close to him, his arms around you as he caressed your neck with his lips. How many nights had he laid in bed, seeing you next to him in his mind, touching you in ways to show you his true feelings. Here you were, right now with a beating heart allowing him to kiss you. Thranduil’s grips on your wrists loosened you realised that they were they only reason the bow you held was still upright. As soon as the support vanished, your arms fell to your sides, and you involuntarily dropped the bow to the forest floor. You felt one of Thranduil’s hands come to the side of your waist and gently turn your body so you were facing him, the other hand he brought up to your face, holding it as he deepened the kiss.

Without thinking, your body naturally responded to the King’s touch, also bringing your hands up to rest on his with one hand on his hard chest feeling his rapid heartbeat and the other grabbing his forearm that was holding your cheek. As the kiss intensified, Thranduil reluctantly broke away and gazed down into your eyes. “My Lady…” he began while trying to catch his breath, “My… apologies. I do not know what came over me.” Shaking your head in protest, you begin to speak, “My Lord, please. No apology is necessary. It was rather… lovely” you said sheepishly as you felt your face turn red. Thranduil looked upon you intently before continuing, bringing his hand down so both were now resting on your waist, “You are not… upset with me?” You look back at Thranduil with a look of utter confusion on your face. “Upset with you? My Lord, what reason could I be possibly be upset with you over?”. You bring your hands to rest on his forearms which were gently holding you.

Thranduil took a deep breath before responding. “I suppose this whole situation could be looked upon poorly. Me following you out here all alone, having you stand so close to me, moving you within my arms and finally… placing my lips upon yours. I assure you, this was not my intent but the way you looked at me just now, and have looked at me in the past, I could not stay myself any longer.” The honesty of his words made your heart skip a beat and it took you a moment to think of the right words. “My King, please, be at ease. The fault is as much mine as it is yours. I assure you, I do not look poorly upon the moment we find ourselves in”.

The King searched your eyes for any sign of falsehood but found none. All he saw was the same yearning he had been feeling for many many lonely months. “You do not mind then?” he asked quietly, hoping to hear the answer he desperately needed to hear. His heart jumps a little when he sees you begin to smile up at him and he felt you place a hand on the side of his face, “My Lord, to kiss you after seeing it happen in my sleep for so long, it’s my greatest dream to come to reality.” Your words went straight through to Thranduil’s heart and he continued to look at you with his mouth slightly open. “You’ve thought about me?” he asked slightly taken aback. You nod, trying to control your breathing as the confession is realised. “I have”.

Thranduil could control himself no longer and he brought his lips back down onto yours, crushing them with a need that had lived within him for many months. The second kiss took the breath from you but you cared not as you brought one hand up to the side of his face and placed the other around the back of his head bringing him in closer to you. He responded to the urgency of your hands by bringing one of his own to the back of your head, mirroring your actions and placing the other on the middle of your back to bring your bodies as close as possible. A little moan accidentally left your throat, and this fuelled the King’s desire even more but in the same second, he pulled away from the kiss and placed his forehead against yours, panting. “No.”

The word cut through you as you thought you had disappointed him in some way. Bringing your hands down to rest on his chest you whispered the word back to him. “No?”. Thranduil opened his eyes, keeping his forehead on yours and bringing his hands back down to your waist. “No. Not like this.” His meaning still lost on you as you looked into his eyes. “Did I do something wrong, my Lord?” Thranduil moved his face away from yours slightly to get a better look at your features. “Wrong? My Lady, quite the opposite. You have captured my heart and my mind. You’re all I’ve been able to think about during my quiet moments away from the politics. Do you not know the true reason why I lead your training group when I’m able? It’s for you, to be close to you. Y/N, you are the only thing that is right in my mind.”

As you look into Thranduil’s eyes and listen to his confession, you feel overwhelming emotions rip through you as, unbeknownst to the King, you desired him just the same. To have your feelings and emotions validated after all this time was too much for you to comprehend in this moment and you look away from him as you try to sort out all the thoughts racing through your mind. Softly grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, Thranduil tilts your head up to look at him. You saw his eyes and there was nothing but love and concern in them. “Y/N, what is it? Is this too much?” You shake your head and smile tenderly. “No, my Lord. This… this is perfect. It’s what I’ve desired for so long. I just never thought my feelings would be reciprocated.”

Thranduil returned the smile and cupped your face before placing a kiss on your forehead. “I had no idea you felt the same as I. All this time. This is a gift from the Valar.” You nod in agreement and take in the sensation of his lips on your forehead. Then you ask you a question that you're hesitant to know the answer to, “Then why, my Lord, did you stop your actions just now? If what you have confessed to me is true and our desires are the same, why stop?” Thranduil smiled down at you and kissed the tip of your nose before answering, “Because, you are worth more than a simple stolen kiss within my forest. Do you have plans this evening?” You shake your head no. “Good, keep your evening open for I wish to invite you to dine with me. I wish to learn more about you and then, if you will allow it, perhaps we could explore each other’s lips further.” Thranduil suggested, his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip as he whispered the words.

The mention of exploring each other's lips was the final straw for you and you swore that if you weren't being held in place by Thranduil's hands on either side of your face then your knees would have given way from under you. You licked your lips at the thought and spoke "Just us?". A wide smile appeared on Thranduil's face as he tilted his head slightly and brought his lips as close as possible to yours without touching. He whispered his response while looking into your eyes, "Just us. Will you join me?" Feeling his warm breath on your lips, hearing his velvety smooth and deep voice while feeling his eyes bore into yours, you breathed out "I will join you, my Lord". You had barely finished the sentence before Thranduil sensually placed his lips on yours once more and lingered there. He didn't intensify the kiss but just merely moulded his mouth to yours and held the position while his thumbs lovingly stroked your cheeks.

Breaking the kiss, Thranduil moved his face away from yours and looked at you intently. "So perfect." You blushed but couldn't look away from him. Was this really happening? "I will send an attendant to accompany you to my quarters this evening when the sun is at it's lowest. I look forward to getting better acquainted, my Lady", and with that, Thranduil brought the top of your hand to his lips and placed soft kiss on it, his eyes never leaving yours. "Until then, my Lord". Thranduil went to turn to walk away but halted. "I do have one request, however" he began. Your nerves instantly rose as he was the King and he could make any request he wished. "Yes, my Lord?" you respond with a shaky breath. He turned to face you fully before making his request, "You are to call me Thranduil from now on". You were stunned by the request. How could you even think about not using his title? He was the King! "Yes, my Lord". Thranduil raised his eyebrows and smirked. Picking up on the facial expression, you quickly corrected yourself, "Yes... Thranduil".

Thranduil didn't respond directly but instead dropped his eyebrows and smirked wider at you. "Until tonight, my Lady" as he turned and made his way back to the palace.

You stood there as you watched him walk away trying to decide if this was reality or just one of your many vivid dreams you had of the Elvenking. Looking down at your quiver and then back at the two arrows still lodged within the log across the river, this was no dream and you felt like an adolescent with a crush again. Noting the position of the sun, you quickly picked up your bow and quiver and made for your chambers. This night was going to be one you'd remember for the rest of your days.

[wileys-russo]

mary being an ass girl <3

based on this request here and many many more warnings for suggestive language! minors dmi.

you'd known from the very first moment you met mary exactly where her focus was, though maybe not quite in the way she'd wanted things to begin.

you were out grocery shopping on a friday night, exhausted after a grueling week of work and practically dragging yourself from aisle to aisle. thank god you had your list you'd already written this morning, your brain all but mush and body screaming out for your sofa and some trashy mind numbing reality tv.

your hood was drawn over your head and you were hardly dressed to impress, donned in an old pair of tights and your favorite baby blue nike hoodie, a pair of beat up converse covering your aching feet. not that a tesco on a friday night was where the manchester crowds all flocked to.

you were completely in your own world, zoned out and staring a little too long at a box of frozen dumplings in the freezer section when it happened.

"maya man you're killin me here. tooneys waiting in the car and i'm fucking starving hurry up!"

you tensed up at the feeling of someones hand connecting sharply with your ass, dropping the basket in your hands you spun around within seconds and suddenly a loud clap echoed as your own hand smacked across their face, your instincts kicking in before you could give it another thought.

"jesus christ i am so sorry!" you apologized with wide eyes, covering your mouth with your hand at your unexpected aggression. you weren't sure who you expected to greet you as the culprit but it was not the tall gorgeous brunette stood in front of you clutching her bright red cheek.

"fuck no i'm so sorry. you've got the same hoodie on as my mate and i thought-oh god you must think i'm some sort of predator. i'm so so sorry!" the woman rambled out an apology, her eyes just as wide as yours as you stared at one another.

"mary whats going-" another girl appeared with a confused frown, but seeing your guilt stricken face and the bright red mark on marys cheek her eyes narrowed. "did you just hit her?" she advanced on you with a thunderous glare as you immediately backed up, running into the freezer section behind you as the taller girl you'd hit leapt into action.

"hey no no i smacked her on the ass thinking she was you and well, i earned the slap back." the girl stood in front of you protectively as her friends face instantly flashed with regret.

"mary! you fucking idiot what have i said about smacking everyone on the ass? see now look karma's come and gone and smacked you back!" the friends shoved at the taller girls chest with a glare who stayed quiet but didn't move her body from shielding yours.

"i am so sorry about her i assure you she will hear about this for a long time and i will make it my personal mission to make sure it doesn't happen again." the shorter of the two warned sternly as the other girl nodded furiously, spinning back around to face you.

"can i pay for your stuff? please! it's the least i can do as an apology." she almost begged, clasping her hands together and giving you potentially the most irresistible puppy dog eyes you'd ever seen.

"no no you really don't need to christ i just slapped you into next week i should be the one apologizing!" you breathed out with a shake of your head, yanking your hood off properly feeling quite hot and flushed in the face.

mary was rendered speechless as she took you in properly, now feeling if possible even worse about her actions and how they might have made you feel, your beauty leaving her feeling winded as if she'd just been kicked in the stomach.

"no it's definitely her who needs to apologise and learn a lesson. come on mearps time to pay for the poor girls groceries!" with that the shorter of the two had grabbed your basket and sauntered off.

"maya! she might not be done shopping yet!" the taller girl groaned, flashing you a dazzlingly apologetic smile and holding up a finger before dashing off, returning a few short moments later with your basket in hand.

"i was done, really." you lied with a smile, the girl raising an eyebrow curiously, pointing to the list in your hand which was very clearly not fully ticked off. "look i promise you really don't need to-" you again tried to dismiss her, reaching for your basket as she held it away from you.

"i do. please i'm so embarrassed like i said it is the least i can do as an apology!" she blushed bright red once again and you couldn't help but find her quite cute despite the way in which you'd come to be acquainted.

"you should probably..." you started, opening the freezer section and grabbing out a bag of peas, placing them gently against her cheek where you'd slapped her. "oh thank you." she smiled softly and you found your breath catching in your throat.

and from then on, it was history.

the way in which you two met was something you'd often rile up your now girlfriend for, shaking your head and making teasing comments along the line of it all just being some elaborate way of picking you up.

enjoying the way she'd always go bright red and whine and promise it wasn't, burying her face in your neck with a groan, making you laugh as seconds later she'd be blowing raspberries against the skin as you'd try to push her off and she'd just cling on tighter

but intentional or not you should have almost taken that first chance encounter as a warning, a warning about exactly what sort of girl mary really was.

because mary alexandra earps was an ass girl, through and through.

it took her a few weeks of the honeymoon phase before you really learned just how much she appreciated yours in particular. but nowadays more than comfortable and hopelessly head over heels for you, there wasn't an ounce of hesitation in her actions.

whenever she'd return home after a particularly painful training session and you'd wrap her in a tight hug hello, her hands would start on the small of your back. then gradually they'd slip lower and lower until they rested right on your ass.

sometimes if she was feeling up to it there might be an affectionate squeeze or a gentle pat, but most of the time when she was tired and sore she was perfectly content to just rest her hands there, making you smile and shake your head as her own buried into your shoulder.

most other times, especially of a morning if you were up before her which on her days off you always were, you'd be greeted with a sharp slap to one of your cheeks.

a cheeky grin and plump rosy pair of lips shutting you up with a searing kiss before you could tell her off, a good morning mumbled into your mouth as of course she'd grab your ass as she did so.

her obvious fondness of your behind didn't just extend to the four walls of your home, cradled in privacy without wandering eyes.

no no, one of marys favourite pre game routines was to wrap you in a bear hug, hands gliding down and firmly squeezing your ass in them, smacking it much like you might high five a team mate. she'd then run off like a naughty kid before you could scold her, your face bright red as you were well aware you had an audience.

if her team mates were around after a game it only seemed to spur her on further, their teasing remarks only fueling her ego as she'd grope and grab you shamelessly, patting your bum like someone might pat your back with a wolfish grin.

mary loved nothing more than how much it clearly riled you up as much as it might brush it off as embarrassment, kissing your bright red cheeks and mumbling all the dirty things she planned to do to you once the two of you were alone, causing them to blush an even deeper shade of crimson.

all bets were off the moment you stepped over the threshold of your shared home, her hands hooking under your thighs and hoisting your body up, legs wrapping around her waist as she sat you down on the kitchen counter or slammed you into the nearest wall.

her hands would grab and grope at your ass, fingers digging in tight enough at the flesh that you knew there would be new bruises covering the almost faded ones that already existed there.

alongside the occasional bright red hand shaped welt which would cover one cheek if you'd felt particularly bold in the days before, your girlfriend rarely needing much convincing to dish out a spanking or two if she felt it was needed.

for her thirtieth birthday as part of her gift you'd bought her a polaroid camera, knowing how much memories meant to her you'd intended it to help her capture them.

but no, in true mary fashion her very favourite muse to take photos of was of course, your ass.

"oh my god baby!" you'd jumped in surprise as she shot up suddenly from the lounge one rainy afternoon, staring at her in surprise with a raised eyebrow.

"what?" you frowned when she didn't say anything. "hold on just a second my girl." she pecked your lips sweetly, of course cheekily squeezing your ass in one large hand before darting off upstairs.

"she's so weird." you mumbled to yourself with a small smile and a sigh, resuming folding the clean washing dumped out all over the coffee table, half paying attention to the football game playing on the television.

"right!" you again jumped as she re-appeared, her polaroid slung around her neck and a pair of sunglasses resting on her nose. "stop doing that! god im gonna get you a bell to wear around your neck like a cat." you huffed with a glare.

"what are you doing?" you sighed now properly taking her in. "i've had a sudden burst of inspiration my love." mary clapped happily, walzting on over toward you with a grin. "babe why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" you questioned clueless, almost afraid of what you might get as an answer.

"enough talking! the artist needs quiet to work." mary again clapped, strolling on past you and muting the tv, yelling at google to play her cleaning playlist as your confusion only worsened.

"oh yeah! thats the mood." mary bopped her head along to the familiar song which played from the speaker, moving her hips side to side and biting her bottom lip as you couldn't help but grin.

"baby. you're so weird!" you laughed, hands on your hips and staring her down as she danced her way over to you. "as i was saying beautiful i have had a burst of inspiration!" she grabbed your face suddenly in her hands, kissing your lips and pulling away with a loud mwah, dipping your body down and kissing all over your face before pulling you back to stand up.

"and pray tell what has inspired you love?" you grinned as she laid down on the floor, wiggling for a moment to get comfortable as she smirked up at you and grabbed her camera in her hands.

"why your bum in those jeans my lovely girl, obviously."

with that she started to order you to pose, moving around on the floor and snapping polaroid after polaroid of you as you threw your head back with a laugh. "mary!" you whined, unable to keep the smile off your face at her ridiculous behaviour.

"thats mazza e to you thanks, up and coming fashion photographer." she clicked her tongue at you and pulled her sunglasses down, sending you a wink and pushing them back up her nose.

"now just feel the music baby, gimme a bit of a shake and a wiggle. i wanna see that thing move!" she whooped loudly as again you were unable to hold back your laughter.

"you are fucking ridiculous. you know that right?" you accused as she brushed you off, again ordering you around as you rolled your eyes playfully.

dropping the washing in your hands you gave in and started to dance, cheered on by mary who moved around on the floor, taking photo after photo as the pile of polaroids on the table grew.

"yes! this is brilliant, gorgeous, sexy, sultry. you're beautiful baby you're beautiful!" the goalkeeper yelled in a goofy accent, tossing her polaroid onto the sofa once she'd run out of film and sitting up, grabbing your hands suddenly and yanking you down onto the floor on top of her.

"mary!" you squealed, both of you groaning suddenly as she tried to sit up and kiss you, knocking her forehead into yours as your body melted into hers, vibrating with laughter as you buried your face in her neck.

"god i love your bum baby." mary sighed out once the two of you had settled from your laughter, hands coming to rest on it and massaging it expertly in her large hands.

"i know, you said hello to it before you even said hello to me." "for the one millionth time i did not mean to smack it as a pick up tactic!"

[dorkus-mcdingus]

A Familiar Voice: A Lilia Short Story

BIG OL FREAKING DISCLAIMER!

This bit of fanfiction is based on the "Crowley is Raverne" theory (which has neither been confirmed or denied) which I both DESPISE TO MY CORE and adore so much.

So I thought, if that theory is true, what would be going through Lilia's head seeing a somewhat familiar face during orientation?

Admittedly, the final scene with Crowley, I was inspired by Prince Kallisto's drawing and oof the amount of inspiration it gave me when I saw Maleanor's painting get slashed! After all, if a portrait has a mouth, why can't it talk?

Enjoy the story and the little moments of Lilia being a wholesome dad :3

A new year meant new students coming in, packing the mirror chamber like sardines while the Headmaster gives the most boring yet somehow self-serving speech imaginable.

The seniors were trying their damndest to stay awake but getting a good look at the new blood, their hearts began to palpitate rapidly as in the sea of cloaked boys, only one had horns poking through his hood.

"Dude, we got a code red." One third year student whispered

"Shut up! The headmage is gonna hear us!" Replied a second year in a hushed tone.

"I'm serious, look in the crowd of freshmen!"

When the boy turned to the crowd, it was like his blood froze into ice in his veins.

"You're kidding...! You mean to tell me that's..."

The third year nodded, just as terrified as ever.

"Malleus Draconia... I feel so bad for everyone in Diasomnia right now..."

"How do you know he's gonna end up there? The Dark Mirror hasn't even gotten to him."

"Uh! Hello?! 5th most powerful mage in Twisted Wonderland AND the fact that he's a fae from Briar Valley?! No duh he's going to get sorted into Diasomnia!

Another second year boy tapped on their shoulders.

"I heard a lot of things about the fae from that place. They're not as forgiving compared to here. I mean, mom and dad already hammered in before I came here to always be polite to the fairies but I'd rather avoid Malleus like the plague unless I wanna get cursed. Just looking at him gives me the chills..."

Curious, Malleus looked over at the whispering boys but the trio panicked as they hid their mouths behind their hands to muffle a gasp.

"Malleus," Lilia whispered. "Pay attention because they're going to call you up soon."

"Understood." He sighed.

Those etiquette lessons had to be drilled into his head despite how bored he was hearing the headmage go on and ON about how generous and kind he was but once Lilia got a good look at the man... Something told him that he's seen him before. It was hard to tell behind the mask he wore, but even he was left staring.

"Cater Diamond!" Called the masked man.

The ginger haired boy with a black diamond painted on his cheek stood in front of the mirror as the mirror said with a booming voice,

"State your name."

"Name's Cater Diamond~!" He replied with his overly jovial tone.

"Cater Diamond, the nature of your soul is... HEARTSLABYUL!"

Lilia may have been short in stature but his red doll-like eyes couldn't pry away from the Headmaster. He definitely didn't register as a dinural fae from his appearance, but where had he seen that man before?! Was it during his travels?! Just... WHERE?!

Malleus in turn gave Lilia a light tap on his shoulder.

"Are you fairing well, Lilia?" He whispered.

"I can't quite put my finger on it, but I feel like I've seen the headmage before. Though, drat! I don't remember where?"

"It could've been someone you encountered on your travels, but from the looks of it, he might be one of us. Though, I do wonder, why wear a mask?"

"Indeed. There's no doubt about it that he's a fae like us but still... Urgh... Dash it all! My memory's not serving me well in my age."

Soon enough, the headmage called.

"Malleus Draconia!"

A loud surge of whispers roared throughout the chamber as some boys looked on in shock and horror, while some were rendered flabbergasted at the sight of the crowned prince in front of them. He maintained a perfect posture, a calm demeanor, but admittedly, the whispers cut him deep like daggers made from cold-forged iron.

"Why's he even here when he's already in the top five?!"

"I feel like I should apologize just for looking at him!"

"He's so powerful it's so suffocating!"

"His appearance alone is enough to give anyone nightmares."

"Rest in peace to the current Housewarden of Diasomnia. You're doomed!"

One student (a lion beastman in particular) remained quiet but shot a disdainful glare at the young dragon. As if the man needed another reminder that he'll always be second best and the fact that the boy is the crowned prince of his country too!

But as soon as Malleus stepped up to the mirror, the mirror commanded,

"State your name."

"My name is Malleus Draconia."

"Malleus, the nature of your soul is... DIASOMNIA!"

One given the magestone for his pen, he made his way back to his seat beside Lilia.

Though, with one good look at the boy, the old bat fae could tell that the whispers were troubling the young dragon. It may have been against what those old bastards in the Senate would've wanted, but he wrapped the boy's hand in his and gently rubbed the back of it with his thumb.

"Don't let it get to you, Malleus." He said gently. "As sad as it is, humans often fear what they don't know but once they get to know you, they'll be dazzled for sure."

"You don't need to treat me like I'm still forty, Lilia." Malleus replied trying to keep a straight face. "After all, Grandmother thought it would be good for me that I try to get to know these children of man better. Although, I don't know if four years will be enough."

"You won't know unless you try my boy." Lilia giggled. "Besides, if you're going to try and maintain peace with them, why not start young? It won't be all bad though. Silver and Sebek will be joining us over the next two years we're here."

"Silver will be a welcome presence, but I worry about Sebek when he does arrive."

"He still has much of the world to see and has much to learn just like you and Silver. You three are growing children and an environment like this will be beneficial to you. True, it may not be traveling but it can help you sample the different cultures they come from."

Malleus gave the old bat a small smile.

"You make a fair point. This could help them too just as much as me. By the way, were you able to figure out where you've seen the Headmage?"

Lilia heaved a slight sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alas, I have not and it's bothering me!"

As the list of names whittled down, with the Headmage yelling such names as,

"Rook Hunt!"

And as a huge shock to everyone,

"Vil Schoenheit!"

Lilia couldn't help but comment saying he's seen a couple of his movies while out traveling. He really had grown so much compared to his days as a child actor but even then he was born to be a celebrity. For a human, one could say he embodied elegance.

As Crowley went down the list once more, he called,

"Idia Shroud!"

The timid boy with blue hair that acted like fire, Malleus at one point had heard of them through his old texts in the family's ancient library. They were born to a family with a bloodline curse of burning intense amounts of blot but as time passed and the family began dedicating their studies to blot research, it soon grew into the facility known as STYX.

He looked at Idia as he tried pulling his hood to hide his face while a cute little humanoid robot floated beside him as he urged his big brother to keep walking.

"Heh, a big Shroud and a little Shroud. How adorable."

"Ooh, knowing who that boy is related to, I know he's going to grow up to do great things."

"State your name." Said the mirror.

"I-Idia Shroud!"

"Idia, the nature of your soul is... IGNIHYDE!"

"No surprises there." Lilia whispered. "The Shrouds for many years have always had a knack for technomancy and engineering."

Further and further down the list the headmage went and boy was it getting long and boring! Yet still, Lilia couldn't take his eyes off of him.

Everything about him from the feathers, to the talon rings, just something seemed so eerily familiar but the more he got a good look at the plague doctor mask he wore, it was like someone quickly erased his memory before he found out too much.

Almost like... A childhood friend he knew once upon a time before he went missing. Not even to this day has it been confirmed that he passed.

He could recall a time when they snuck out of the castle, this cheeky little princess saw a bird trapped in a human's net and she wanted to give him a fright.

"Into a boy." She commanded.

The moment the raven began transforming into a human, his yellow eyes stared back at the princess once he threw the net off of him and he said to her,

"What have you done to my beautiful self?!"

"Would you rather be mauled by that human's dog?"

"No."

"I thought so."

All the while, Lilia was sent into a giggling fit.

But the merriment wasn't to last. Lilia was left all alone for so many years, ridiculed by the Senate, and with their son to look after. Something about those those yellow eyes hiding behind the mask just made it so familiar to him.

Soon enough,

"Lilia Vanrouge!"

Of course, he heard the whispers just like Malleus with the other boys saying,

"A girl? Since when did NRC go co-ed?"

"Gotta admit, she is pretty cute."

"Kufufu. Those boys don't know what they're in for." Lilia giggled quietly to himself.

But for some strange reason, the Headmaster couldn't help but get a good look at the small old man. He kept a straight face but even though he kept people at an arm's length, never revealing his face to anyone, the older boys could tell that the headmage was acting slightly off.

"State your name." Said the mirror.

"Lilia Vanrouge."

Hearing the boys' shocked expressions upon noticing the sound of his deep voice made it so hard for the little bat fae not to keel over from laughing.

"Lilia, the nature of your soul is... DIASOMNIA!"

No surprises there. Well, at least it'll make looking after Malleus easier. Still, although Lilia gave the headmage a sweet and charming smile, but behind the mask, Crowley was actively trying to play it cool.

With the ceremony coming to a close, before he made his way back to his office, Crewel stopped him for a minute asking where he was heading off to especially since Sam was so kind as to throw them a party to start off the new school year.

"I just need to take care of a few important documents, Professor Crewel. I'll be right back."

A ghost from the past he tried so DESPERATELY to forget and the boy he was with... It was like his days of old regrets were coming back to haunt him once more. Behind a pair of black curtains, hung a portrait of a woman with long jet-black hair and chartreuse eyes. Like the royal she was, she was fully decked out in the finest of jewels and silver resting on her shoulders as well as acting as a tiara hanging around her horns. However, the one curious thing about her portrait compared to the paintings around the school, hers had her mouth slashed.

The old headmaster held his head in his hands the more he looked at her. Even in death she still found a way to haunt him after so many years of trying to bury his past.

[mellowsadistic]

The Magician's Game - Chapter 3

Katherine ran down the corridor. It was well-furnished with little tables and vases and the occasional gorgeous painting on the wall, nicer even than Katherine’s own family home, but she didn’t have time to admire it. She’d slipped into her room at the same time as the others, pulled on her dress, which had magically appeared on her bed since she’d lost it during the challenge, and left immediately. One woman turned into a thumbsucker, another stripped of her stylish clothes and dressed up like a nursery schooler, and a third, worst of all, rendered permanently incontinent.

Katherine’s relief at not being in Becky’s place had quickly passed. It was pretty clear what sort of thing the Magician had in mind for them, and Katherine had no intention of ending up as some overgrown baby herself. There were still three challenges to go, not to mention whatever extra things the Magician might do to them if they were voted out. She couldn’t stand the thought of ending up like Becky, forced to spend the rest of her life in diapers. Diapers. A fashion statement that told the world you couldn’t even control your bladder and bowels, that you were no better than a two-year-old at keeping yourself clean and dry. The idea that a grown woman could be reduced to that was terrifying. She had to get out of here now.

Katherine ran as quietly as she could. She’d gone deeper into the mansion – there was no way she was going back through the hall when there was a chance Becky and the Magician were still there – but the place was like a labyrinth. Still, there had to be an exit, and sneaking out was clearly her best option. The man was obviously a real magician of some kind, but he surely couldn’t know everything. Katherine was more worried about coming across other people in the house, members of staff perhaps, maids or cooks or housekeepers, anyone who might alert the Magician to what she was doing.

She froze as she head the faint sounds of a soft, female voice coming from up ahead. There was a door on the right of the corridor just a few feet away that was slightly ajar. She’d have to be careful to sneak past without whoever was inside seeing her. She approached cautiously, and as she got closer, the words of the woman inside became clearer.

“There’s a good girl,” she cooed. “Drink it all up for Nanny now, that’s a good baby. Such a hungry girl, aren’t you? Someone’s getting her tum-tum nice and full, isn’t she?”

When she was right outside the door, Katherine peeked inside through the gap. What she saw made her freeze in place. There was a beautiful middle-aged woman sitting on a sofa. Her breasts, larger even than Katherine’s own, were out, and latched onto the nipple of one of them was a girl who seemed to be around Katherine’s age, naked but for the thick white nappy on her bottom. All Katherine could see of her head was her sleek brown hair, but there was no doubt she was nursing eagerly on the older woman’s breast.

“That’s it,” the woman crooned down at the girl laying across her lap. “Drink up all of Nanny’s milk like a good baby.”

Katherine was transfixed. It was like looking at a car crash – a girl her age reduced to the level of a nursing infant.

Quite suddenly, the older woman looked up, straight into Katherine’s eyes. A broad smile appeared on her face, maternal yet slightly sinister as well.

“Does someone else want a suckle?” she asked lightly.

Katherine squealed and fled as fast as she could down the corridor. She ran past other doors, trying not to think about what might be behind them. It was only until she came close to another open one, with a woman’s voice coming from it once again, this time stern and lecturing, that she hesitated.

“You naughty little thing! You do not take your nappy off, missy. I hope that red bottom will teach you a lesson. Come on, legs in, let’s get this over your nappy. You know what a little fountain you can be.”

Katherine couldn’t help herself. She stopped running to glance inside.

There was another Nanny in the room, and another girl. But this time the young lady was standing up, sniffling, her eyes red from crying, while her Nanny tugged a pair of plastic pants over her comically large diaper. She wasn’t wearing anything else. Her bare, womanly breasts, tight tummy, and slender legs clashed ridiculously with the bulky nappy on her bottom.

Just like before, as if she could somehow sense Katherine’s presence, the woman looked around suddenly, smirking. Katherine felt her stomach drop.

“Hang around sweetie, and Nanny will change you into a nappy and plastic pants of your own.”

Katherine fled again, breathing frantically. She had to get out of here! She had to! But as she ran, she began to feel an odd dizziness. She was slowing down, and her strides becoming more and more uncoordinated. Her gait widened, and she found herself lifting her feet too high off the ground, stomping the floor forcefully when they came down and putting her off-balance. She was toddling!

“No, no, no, no, no…” she muttered to herself, tears welling up in her eyes. She kept going. At the end of the corridor was a door. If she could just reach it…

Her knees gave out, and she fell to her hands and knees. She crawled desperately towards the door, tears spilling down her cheeks. She was so close! She didn’t even notice as her knee-length dress shortened, rising up her legs and over her backside, until her bare bum and pussy were on display. She’d been in such a hurry to escape that she hadn’t even bothered putting on underwear.

“Where are you off to, little one?” came the Magician’s deep, amused voice from right behind her. Katherine shrieked in fear and looked around, gazing up at the man standing above her with a wicked smile on his face.

“I… I… I was just…”

“It seems like you’ve been running all over the house, silly girl!” He reached down and patted her bare bottom. “That’s very naughty, sweetie. Daddy told you to get changed and meet back in the dining room. But it looks like a certain little lady was trying to escape! Did you think I wouldn’t know, Katherine? I brought you here with a snap of my fingers, remember? There’s no getting away.”

“I’m sorry!” Katherine sobbed, terror on her face. “Please don’t do anything to me!”

The Magician chuckled and, taking her by her hands, lifted Katherine to her feet. She was relieved that she was able to stand up again, even if her new shorter dress just barely covered her pussy.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m not going to do anything too bad to you. But you do need to be punished.”

“Oh God no!” Katherine wailed. “Please!”

“Hush baby. You were very naughty for trying to run away, and I think I know a very fitting punishment for you.”

Still keeping a hold of her hand, he started leading her back down the corridor. With a horrible plummeting in her stomach, Katherine realised that she was still toddling. Her stance was still wide and awkward, her steps still heavy and uncoordinated.

“There won’t be any more running for you, little miss,” said the Magician, confirming her fears. “And no more elegant struts down the catwalk either.”

Katherine burst into tears as the Magician tugged her along behind him. She was going to be stuck like this! She’d always carried herself with such dignity and grace, and now she was supposed to stomp around everywhere like some stupid three-year-old?!

“I heard you saw a couple of the other girls staying in my house,” the Magician went on conversationally, ignoring Katherine’s sobbing. “Little Lizzy getting her afternoon feeding. She used to be a particularly scathing food critic, responsible for the shutdown of many lovely restaurants. She was quite the snob when it came to food. Now she’s on a diet of nothing but breastmilk.” He looked devilishly happy about it. “Of course, most of the guests I have get to go back to their lives – their new ones anyway – but sometimes there are special cases. Since I made her unable to eat or drink anything except breastmilk, I thought little Lizzy might as well stay here with one of the lovely Nannies I employ to be her wetnurse. Then you saw cute little Jemima too. Believe it or not, she was a hardened criminal once, getting involved in gangs and doing all sorts of nasty things. But now she spends her days toddling around in her nappies, playing with her toys, and getting spanked for the slightest bit of misbehaviour. Her attitude is so much better now!”

Finally, Katherine and the Magician were back in the hall. He led her, waddling absurdly and flashing her pussy with every awkward step, into the dining room where they’d had their baby-food lunch earlier that day. The rest of the girls were standing around nervously. They stared at Katherine with a mixture of curiosity and dread. Abby, Madelyn, and Susie were standing close together, but Becky was a little distance away, still wearing a stinky, heavily soiled nappy between her legs. Madelyn was still nursing her thumb, and Susie had apparently not found any adult clothes to change into in her room, because she was still dressed like a nursery schooler.

“Little Katie here tried to escape,” the Magician explained. “So now she toddles when she walks. Isn’t she just the cutest?”

Katherine blushed bright red and kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

“Now then,” the Magician went on, “it’s almost time to have our first vote.” He waved his hand and a ballot box appeared on the table in front of them. “But first, you can all have a little discussion. Talk to whoever you want, or don’t. It’s up to you. But in a couple of minutes, you’ll all be voting to kick one of your number out of the competition. Good luck!”

He vanished, leaving the five women standing there, unsure of what to do. Becky started to move closer to the other girls, but Abby and Madelyn looked disgusted, and Susie said “Ewww! No! Stay over there Becky!”

Becky didn’t know whether she wanted to burst into tears or start screaming in rage. The nappy sagging from her hips was disgusting, but this wasn’t her fault!

“Look, I’m sorry,” Susie said, turning to the others. “But do we really want to spend the rest of this ordeal with a woman who might poop her pants at any moment? I think we should vote out Becky.”

“No!” Becky squealed, looking around desperately. “Please don’t! I don’t want to go home like this! I don’t wanna be a big baby forever!” She looked utterly pathetic.

Abby almost felt a little sorry for her, but she agreed with Susie that spending however many more challenges around a yucky, smelly, pants-filling baby woman was disgusting. But on the other hand, sobbing and crying in her nappies, the eighteen-year-old Becky didn’t seem like she would be much of a threat…

Susie and Becky continued arguing while the others watched. Abby stared at Susie, thinking hard. If anything, Susie was far more likely to pose a threat to Abby in future rounds. She glanced at Madelyn, and noticed that she was also looking at Susie appraisingly, her brow furrowed. She might almost have looked calculating if it wasn’t for the thumb bobbing stupidly in her mouth. Abby might have considered voting out Madelyn – she’d seemed so confident and powerful at the beginning – but being turned into a thumbsucker seemed to have robbed her of some of her authority. Madelyn looked up, and their eyes met. A flash of understanding passed between them. Katherine was still sniffling, mourning her ability to walk like an adult. She wouldn’t be of any use, but hopefully it wouldn’t matter.

The Magician suddenly reappeared, and Susie and Becky’s argument broke off. “Are we all ready, girls?” he asked with that horrible smile. He passed out a piece of paper and a crayon to each of them. They all hurried away from one another and, covering their work like schoolchildren taking a test, they scribbled down a name. One by one, they walked up to the ballot box and placed their piece of paper into the slot. Then they all stood around fearfully while the Magician opened it up, and took them out to look at.

“Excellent!” he announced. “At three votes, we have a clear loser.” He looked around, his eyes glittering with light. There was tense silence but for the wet smacking sound of Madelyn’s thumbsucking. The magician’s gaze passed over each of them before coming to rest on Susie. “Miss Taylor,” he said. Susie felt her blood run cold. “I’m afraid you’re out of the competition.”

“No!” Susie cried. “It can’t be me! Count the votes again! I couldn’t… I won’t…”

But the Magician was walking up to her slowly, and her voice died. “Awww, don’t be scared, little one,” he cooed, tickling her under the chin. “I’m not going to throw you out to the cold. I know just the person to take care of you.” He gestured to the door. Susie looked over, and saw her mother standing in the doorway. She felt as though a bucket of ice had been poured over her.

“Hi Susie-wusie!” Mrs Taylor cooed, with a very Magician-like smile. “Are you reading to come back home?” Her voice was slow and patronising, like she was talking to a very young child.

Susie could only stare in horror. Then, when she realised what the Magician intended for her, she turned round and ran. She only made it a few steps before her mother’s voice said sternly, “Stay where you are, little girl!” and Susie felt her body freeze. “Now come back here right this instant. Come to Mummy, Susie-poo.”

Susie couldn’t stop herself from turning around and marching back over to her mother to stand submissively before her.

“W-what have you done to me?” she whispered.

“This lovely man’s sorted out everything,” Mrs Taylor said, tilting her head at the Magician. “He’s made it so you won’t be able to disobey me ever again. Anything I tell you to do, you’ll do it. Isn’t that wonderful? Mummy always did know what’s best for you, and now I’ll have full control of your life for good. You’ve been a very naughty girl, Susie. Running away from Mummy, going off to university, thinking you can be ‘mature’ and ‘independent’. You’ve been very, very naughty – and you know what that means, don’t you sweetie?”

Susie whimpered. She knew what her mother was going to say before she said it. Those horrible, terrifying, humiliating words from her childhood.

“It’s smacky bum-bum time, Susie.”

“No….” Susie sobbed, barely audibly. She hated those words more than anything in the world. It was all her mother’s strict discipline wrapped up in the most patronising, insultingly infantile language. It was every humiliating spanking she’d ever received, right up until the day she’d left home.

“Yes, baby,” her mother said, talking in that same slow, sweet, condescending voice. “Naughty girls need red tushies.” She reached under Susie’s skirt and hooked her fingers into the waistband of her cotton underpants. Then, agonizingly slowly, she drew them down to her daughter’s knees. “There we go. Now over my knee, Susie.”

Susie fought as hard she could to resist, but it was impossible. She draped herself over her mother’s lap obediently.

Mrs Taylor flipped up her daughter’s tiny skirt, exposing her pale bare bottom. She patted it gently, as if savouring the sight of her wayward daughter back over her knees once again, and then she started to rain down sharp, painful smacks.

Susie screwed up her face in pain and humiliation as her bottom quickly went from white to red. She wanted to stay in control of herself, to preserve whatever dignity she had left, but it was useless. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started to cry. Her crying became louder and louder as her mother spanked her like a disobedient child, until she was wailing like a baby at the top of her lungs. “Dobbit Mummy!” she sobbed thickly. “P’ease dobbit! I don’t wanna be a little girl again! Waaaaaaaaah!”

The other girls watched with a combination of horror and morbid fascination, and in Becky’s case a tiny bit of satisfaction, as Susie got her bottom smacked like a little girl.

At last, Mrs Taylor finished. She helped Susie off her lap and got to her feet. Susie just stood there, crying her eyes out with her undies around her ankles and her bottom bright red.

“Thank you for everything,” Mrs Taylor said to the Magician. “I’m so glad to have my little girl back where she belongs. Do you think you could be so kind as to send us home? I think this little one needs to spend a few hours in time-out before bed.”

The Magician inclined his head graciously. “Of course.” He snapped his fingers, and Susie and her mother vanished.

[hanasnx]

thinking abt absolutely dirty sloppy hate fucking with anakin. no concern, no sweet talk, no comforting touches. just him taking out his anger for the world on you. <3

MINORS DNI 18+

Huge hands cup both sides of your head and in a single curt motion collide your skull with the floor. The dizzying effect takes over, your surroundings coming in and out of focus as your eyes struggle to adjust. Momentarily, you forget yourself, yet your body doesn't. Hands brace on ANAKIN SKYWALKER's chest, weakly fighting him off. He persists easily, yanking you further down by your hips, and your hair fans out from under your head. You wince, the sore spot exacerbated by the harsh scrape of the ground underneath. Your fists tremble as they grip on his robes.

The shuffling of his garments alerts you to the impending presence between your legs as he hovers over you. Softly, you manage to choke out, "Cheater." to which he scoffs. The pounding in your head subsides long enough for you to realize something hard and long pressing to your heat.

"Push." he mouths, barely above a whisper. A cocky jut of his chin as he says it makes your blood boil. Like a fool, you do as he tells you, your anger propelling you into shoving at his wall-like frame with all your might. To no avail, and you collapse fully breathing hard. "A little hit to the head and you're rendered helpless? You're not as strong as I thought."

You growl at the feeling of his shaft rutting against your slick slit, and you've got half a mind to tell him to shove it in already. You don't want him to win, and you whip your hand across his face with a resounding smack, craning his neck from the impact. His curls whirl around his head like a crown, and a dribble of spit drips from his plump and split lip. Breathless, you laugh, and adjust underneath him, readying yourself to crawl out from under him. He faces you again, and fists your hair to pin you with newfound enthusiasm, punishing you for landing a hit on him. A steady hand on his base guides it, lining it up, and shoving it in. Your hole's wet but not loose enough, and you cry out as his carelessness stretches you out in a sting.

"Fucking asshole!" you yell, the rim of your pussy on fire as he presses on, ignoring your violent writhing as you search for a way to get back at him. Basically performing a temper tantrum while you squeeze your eyes shut and pinch and claw and punch.

"Oh, you want it in the ass? Is that it?" he questions immaturely, following your face as he jerks side-to-side. Your hands snatch his wrist, tugging it from your scalp only for his grip to tighten on your hair. "Push. Push! I'm begging you, teach me a lesson."

Your feet ground, and you pick your hips up, trying to raising him with you. It only serves as easier access for his cock to slide in further.

"That's a good way to waste your energy."

"I'm gonna fucking cut your dick off when this is over!" you shout the first thing you can think of at him as he bottoms out after forcing himself in. You flutter around him, your cunt recognizing the actions to be pleasurable, and lubricating accordingly. So he gives you a couple bucks, your thighs clenching around him unconsciously as he does.

"You wanna get off? Then fucking earn it."

[artistic-aristocrat]

These posts by @yourdeepestfathoms https://www.tumblr.com/yourdeepestfathoms/760641679392899072/perrine-strikes-me-as-the-person-who-would-eat-a?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/yourdeepestfathoms/760782330791100416/i-cheer-at-every-piece-of-art-i-can-find-of?source=share

made me realize how much the Chubby!Perrine HC absolutely rules and its a CRIME there isn't chonky Perrine fanart YET SOooOoo I decided to flex my artist muscles and MAKE one

Lesson of the day kids, be the change you want to see in the world! ✏️🎨✊️✨️

The sketch was done traditionally (took 3 hours) and the color rendering was done digitally in IbispaintX (took 2 hours)

Spent a whopping 5 hours on this sucker and it was WORTH IT!

[equabraz]

“Do Not You Be Called Rabbi”

You should not seek the title of Rabbi when you are all equals.

Jesus, the first-century Jew who founded Christianity, lived at the time when the Pharisaic concept of the rabbi was beginning to overtake Judaism. He was not a Pharisee, nor had he been trained in their academies, yet he too was called Rabbi.—Mark 9:5 ; John 1:38; 3:2.

Remember that everyone among you is a brother, and there is one true Teacher - Jesus Christ.

This means that we must all support each other in our learning journey. True wisdom comes from sharing knowledge and respecting each other's perspectives as brothers. Embrace the idea that we can learn from one another, supporting mutual growth together. No one should elevate themselves above others, as we are all in this together. But you, do not you be called Rabbi - Matthew 23:8.

Denouncing the rabbinical trend in Judaism, Jesus said: “The scribes and the Pharisees have seated themselves in the seat of Moses. They like the most prominent place at evening meals and the front seats in the synagogues, and the greetings in the marketplaces and to be called Rabbi by men. But you, do not you be called Rabbi, for one is your teacher, whereas all you are brothers.” - Matthew 23:2 , 6-8.

The bond of brotherhood encourages unity among you, fostering respect and understanding. You are all equally valued in your shared journey of learning and growth. Knowledge is best gained when shared openly among brothers who respect each other.

Teaching and learning happen best in an environment where everyone's voice is encouraged. This creates a strong sense of community and respect among all participants. Jesus warned against the clergy-laity distinction that was developing within Judaism. He denounced giving such undue prominence to men. “One is your teacher,” he boldly declared.

Focus on the lessons that unite, rather than on titles that divide us. Each person's contribution is essential in building a strong, supportive brotherhood, enhancing collective understanding and wisdom. Together, we can achieve more than we can alone.

Learning should be a collaborative effort rather than a competition for titles or status. The intense study of a rabbi’s every action and word has not brought Jews closer to God. While an imperfect man might be an example of faithfulness, if we study and imitate his every action, we will imitate his mistakes and imperfections as well as his good points. We would be giving undue glory to the one created rather than to the Creator. They exchanged the truth of God for the lie and venerated and rendered sacred service to the creation rather than the Creator, who is praised forever. Amen - Romans 1:25

In a community that values brotherhood, everyone's insights are celebrated, leading to shared growth. This openness inspires engagement and creates lasting bonds of friendship and trust. Emphasize your connections to one another, valuing each role within your group, to grow. When you appreciate each other as brothers, you create an environment of learning. Together, strive not for distinction, but for improvement and understanding through shared experiences. The apostle Paul encouraged Christians to “look intently at the Chief Agent and Perfecter of our faith, Jesus.” He also explained that “carefully concealed in him are all treasures of wisdom and of knowledge.” (Hebrews 12:2 ; Colossians 2:3)

Knowledge flourishes when individuals work together, putting aside distinctions to learn from one another. Growth is best achieved when every member feels they belong to the family of learners. In this respectful atmosphere, everyone can shine by sharing their unique insights and experiences. Seek to learn and teach with humility, recognizing that all are equally important. A true teacher does not seek titles or honors, but aims to inspire growth. When you embrace this perspective, the entire community benefits from shared wisdom and encouragement. No other man—not Moses nor any rabbinic sage—is worthy of such attention. If anyone should be closely imitated, it is Jesus. Servants of God have no need of a title such as rabbi, especially in view of its modern-day connotation, but if anyone deserved to be called Rabbi, it was Jesus.

Ultimately, connections among individuals are what strengthen us, and titles do not define value. Let your teachings reflect understanding and respect for one another's journeys in life. Listen to one another, as all are brothers seeking knowledge, not hierarchy.

You can visit www.jw.org to learn about different beliefs and teachings. The website offers many helpful resources, including articles, videos, and Bible studies for everyone interested in exploring spiritual topics and understanding different perspectives. People often find encouragement and hope when visiting www.jw.org for spiritual guidance.

At this site, users can easily access information about faith, family life, and community events that promote love and understanding among diverse groups.

Many visitors appreciate the free materials available at www.jw.org for personal study and growth.

[thegoldenhoof]

Izzy dies, not as Izzy but as Blackbeard and that is not fair

(Not just to Izzy but to the writing jn Ep 4-7)

I wasn't able to articulate it properly until I was writing a longer meta about the death of the mentor trope but another reason why Izzy's death felt jarring (other than the lack of plot common sense) was that Izzy died as Blackbeard.

Izzy did not create Blackbeard. Inspite of the misinterpretations of Jenkins last moment inspiration, Izzy did not train Blackbeard. Inspite of the extremely ridiculous dialogues shoved into Ricky's mouth we *know* Izzy was not the bains behind Blackbeard.

Izzy says he fed Blackbeard's darkness, not created, not forced, but fed. However we may interpret this the Burden of Blackbeard has been on both of them. One of them wanted to shed it because it was boring (and he was depressed) the other wanted to keep it because it was security, their way of life and his life's work.

And yet Izzy alone has to die as Blackbeard. Izzy gets to take all the burden of Blackbeard on himself and die for the symbolic release of Ed.

And in so far as you consider everything till Episode 2 or even Episode 3 this is perhaps fine. But Izzy who was the half of Blackbeard is already dead after that. He'd shot him in the head. By Episode 4 Izzy broken and purposeless asks himself who he was anymore.

Izzy lets go of Blackbeard in what Jenkins has called his moment of divorce from Blackbeard. Izzy gets to grow and learn about kindness and community. He learns to give back. He gives his approval for Ed letting go of his leathers and he does that from the experience of having let go of Blackbeard himself. (If Ed was indeed seeking such approval we are not shown that)

And yet...

Izzy dies as Blackbeard. All of this, all of his journey is rendered meaningless not because he dies, but because his role in Blackbeard was elevated narratively to serve as a vessel externalizing Ed's self-loathing. Izzy as a person recedes to the background.

Izzy had found healing and family over the season but he doesn't get to die as Izzy, he gets to die as Blackbeard. He dies with only Ed by his side and all the people he formed bonds with this season away, audience to the tragic spectacle because in that moment he is only Blackbeard, not Izzy.

Izzy never had a single hope of redemption because no matter what he did *he* could never shed his past. Stede's love is enough to save Ed from Blackbeard but apparently the crew's love was never going to be enough to save Izzy because Ed needed him to *be* the Blackbeard who died so he could be the Ed who lived.

Perhaps the lesson here is you have to get ahead in that redemption race because if you straggle behind you are fucked even if you try.

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

frothing at the mouth pls give us the timlex

Okay youre getting my warrior cats au then. Im not sure i ever properly shared about it all. Im gonna be referring to the characters with their cats names, so here is that quick list of our main guys:

Alex Kralie- Hornetkit, Hornetpaw, Hornetstripe

Tim- Maskkit, Maskpaw, Masktuft

Jay- Jaykit, Jaypaw, Jaysight

Brian- Hawkkit, Hawkpaw, Hawkprowl

And heres my main ref for them :3

Okay now to talk

Theyre all a few moons apart, with Mask being the youngest, then Hawk, and then Jay a few days after Hornet.

When Hornetpaw is eight moons old, Maskpaw becomes an apprentice, and his mentor is Slendermange. Slendermange is one of the oldest warriors in the clan, even older than some elders, but he refuses to retire and since hes such a skilled fighter, he hasnt been forced to yet. Slendermange has always been interested in Maskkit, who was an orphaned kit the clan found and brought back to care for. Maskkit was skittish and quiet, but Slendermange seemed so focused on him that he was allowed to mentor him.

During their apprenticeship, the four cats become good friends. They were already friendly back in the nursery with the other kits, but now that they can start training and hunting and patrolling together, they become even better friends. Maskpaw always seems to be on the outskirts of their friendship though, always tugged away by his mentor when he seems to be getting more comfortable. Slendermange is very secretive of their training, and won’t allow the other apprentices to be around while he trains Maskpaw. Due to his training, Maskpaw is led to become a warrior early. Too early, if you asked the other apprentices. It wasn’t fair. He was the youngest of them, why should he get his warrior name first? Hornetpaw struggles to be happy for him when Masktuft get’s his name, and this drives a crack between their unsteady friendship.

When Hornetpaw is eleven moons old, tragedy strikes.

A fire starts in camp, and the clan loses everything. Their numbers are decimated. Hornetpaw’s mentor suffers severe burns, and is rendered unable to train Hornetpaw. Slendermange is killed in the fire, along with Hornetpaw’s parents and several other warriors and elders. Their leader loses more than one life trying to escape. And Masktuft’s body is never found. The worst is assumed.

Hawkpaw and Jaypaw become closer in their grief, losing friends and family. Hornetpaw however isn’t given that time to grieve, because soon, he starts having strange dreams. Slendermange appears to him in visions, a shadowy blood red forest surrounds them. He promises Hornetpaw that he can train him in place of Hornetpaw’s injured mentor, and says that he is a StarClan guide. Hornetpaw agrees, thinking this opportunity was too good to ever pass up.

He was wrong.

The lessons that Slendermange teaches him are cruel. To attack first and ask questions later. To avoid his friends, because they don’t understand the warrior code like the two of them do. He tells Hornetpaw how special he is, more special than Masktuft.

Then, their training starts to bleed into the day. Hornetpaw is exhausted all the time. He wakes up sore, with bites and scratches littering his pelt. He’s sluggish on patrols, and it’s enough that Jaypaw and Hawkpaw notice. They want to reach out, and see what’s wrong, but before they can, their relationship with Hornetpaw is ruined.

They graduate together. Given the names Jaysight and Hawkprowl, before the oldest of the group is even close to becoming a warrior.

The wedge that comes between them seems permanent. Hornetpaw won’t speak to them, won’t even look at them. He trains by himself, sneaks out of camp constantly, and as he sleeps in the apprentice den alone, it seems he has lost all connection to his clan. When his mentor dies from the burns, that is the nail in his coffin. Hornetpaw is entirely alone.

Except for Slendermange. Their training in the dark forest becomes more and more intense until, one day, during Hornetpaw’s training, Slendermange appears to him. Ghostly and dripping liquid shadow, this vision now follows him everywhere. Slendermange’s demonic presence is pressed to his pelt where ever he goes. Whispering nasty remarks about his former friends and clanmates, clawing at him when Hornetpaw doesn’t listen or behaves wrong. When Hornetpaw finally becomes Hornetstripe, Slendermange’s voice is the only one he can hear calling his name.

It’s only a matter of time before other cat’s start disappearing.

The already dismal numbers of the clan get even smaller, as cats are picked off one by one. Where are they going? Why is this happening? With only their leader, a young deputy, a handful of medicine cats and mediators sharing the workload together, and enough warriors to count on two hands, Hornetstripe is the last to vanish. Without a trace.

Its then that Jaysight and Hawkprowl independently decide to hunt him down and find him, Jaysight wanting to find his old friend and Hawkprowl having caught him in the act, blood staining Hornetstripe’s pelt and the lifeless body of another warrior at his paws.

Hornetstripe flees his clan, unaware that he’s being distantly tailed, and Slendermange still lurking in his peripheries. In his new life as a rogue, he encounters the assumed to be dead Masktuft. Masktuft had made a home for himself as a barn cat, and for some reason, allows Hornetstripe to stay with him. There was plenty of prey around to keep them fed, and a blossoming closeness begins to thread them together. Gradually, the shadows of Slendermange leave him. Hornetstripe’s pelt is scarred but soft now, and his tail no longer tucks between his legs.

One night, huddled together for warmth in the straw of the hayloft, Hornetstripe confesses everything he’s done. Shares what Slendermange did to him and made him do. Masktuft does not snap or hiss at him. He wraps his big, fluffy tail around Hornetstripe, and murmurs that he understands more than Hornetstripe could ever know. Satisfied with that, Hornetstripe curls closer, nosing into Masktuft’s fur and purring softly, for the first time in moons. Masktuft gives his pelt a few calming licks, and purrs that he’ll keep watch so that Hornetstripe can sleep safely.

I haven’t decided what happens if or when Hawkprowl and Jaysight find them. But I know it’ll have a happy ending, because I cannot emotionally handle sad endings in fanfiction lol

I hope you all enjoyed :3c

[flyfish1999]

UK Edge Magazine Issue 181 - November 2007 Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3 (vanilla) in Reviews

this article is actually reviewing the american version rather than the european one - only because persona 3 vanilla hadn't yet come out in europe ! the eu recieved vanilla on february 29th, 2008, half a year after america. often forgotten is that persona 3 was europe's first persona game (but not first SMT, beaten by nocturne in 2005), having missed revelations and eternal punishment entirely. the review compares the gameplay of p3 to canis canem edit (bully, for all you ntscheads), and implies the reviewer opted for the kendo team in their playthrough ^_^

Transcription under the cut:

Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3 Format: PS2 Price: $50 (US), £30 (UK) Release: Out Now (US), TBC (UK) Publisher: ATLUS Developer: In-House

Suicide is painless?

Anyone who's ever complained that there aren't enough hours in the day will be pleased with Persona 3's premise. Soon after enrolling your character at the local Japanese high school you're accepted into a covert society and let in on an enormous secret: there are, in fact, 25 hours to a day. The extra 'dark hour', as it's known, occurs every night at midnight. The vast majority of the populace is unaware of its existence as, for its duration, they are rendered unconscious and sealed in coffins, oblivious to the shadow creatures that emerge outside and roam the world looking for prey. A few humans remain unaffected by the phenomenon and, as one of them, it's in the sparse company of these cognoscenti that your character finds himself after dark.

The group, called the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad, is responsible for holding back the shadow creatures' advance while trying to uncover the secrets of their origin, a huge multi-storey ephemeral tower named Tartarus, which emerges each night in the school grounds. Tartarus takes the form of an upwardly built dungeon whose Rogue-like floorplans change every visit. Your overarching mission is to scale the tower bit by bit (don't panic: a warp opens up every five floors) while leveling up and discovering new Personas: creatures that can be summoned to aid you in battle.

While this is a little traditional, the dark hour is just one element to an unorthodox game whose scenario manages to twist it out of the firm grasp of its JRPG roots. In the main this is achieved by the dark hour's counterpoint: daytime, during which you participate in the lessons, clubs and societies of a Japanese school. Here, in a similar way to Canis Canem Edit, you're tasked with daily studying, exam taking and after-school clubs and sports, all minigame-style pursuits that are used as a means to build and enhance your character's abilities. Three core stats (academics, charm and courage) must be raised by taking part in a wide range of different activities from enrolling in the school's kendo team to visiting the karaoke bar in the local mall of an evening. Raising these statistics while building and fostering relationships in school is crucial to creating stronger Personas to make your character more powerful on the nightly battlefield. By linking the game directly to 2009's school term calendar and breaking every day into seven distinct stages (from early morning through lunchtime to late at night), you quickly settle into the comfortable rhythm of a education system, which provides an excellent framework for the disparate mechanics to slot into.

The game's aesthetics are unusual for the genre. Low-poly environments, simple character models and drab lighting are the uninspiring visual building blocks. However, thanks to some ingenious use of beautiful anime artwork the game fizzes with life as character portraits zoom into shot to personify the dialogue while slick and design-conscious menus add some contemporary style.

As with any game that's based on repetitive tasks set in unchanging environments, its rhythm in time becomes a little monotonous. However, the frequent boss battles (introduced every few levels of Tartarus) and surprisingly compelling relationships you foster daily inspire perseverance. Games with distinctive souls are rare things but Persona 3 succeeds in displaying a mesmerising personality that touches the many well-crafted aspects of its curious and singular approach.

Captions, left to right:

Personas are ethereal creatures that are summoned from your unconscious mind to lend their abilities in battle. For this reason, the stronger your relationships with other students or groups the stronger your 'inner self' is and the more powerful your Personas will become. One of the most enduring images from the game comes from the way in which characters summon a Persona: by putting a gun (known in the game as an 'evoker') to their temple before pulling the trigger. To players not closely familiar with anime culture it's a shocking image that's used repeatedly, and since the game's release has attracted keen debate in the US as to its suitability.

Fans furious at the lack of a Japanese audio option have already released on the internet a patched version known as an 'undub', with English subtitles but original voices.

In battles, you only gain direct control over your own character. Your teammates can be given general directions (such as to major on offensive moves or healing) but their specific actions are handled by the competent AI.

You aren't forced to visit Tartarus every night. If you'd rather you can meet up with a friend at the local mall, visit a club in town or spend the evening at your desk studying, all of which level up aspects of your personality.

Persona cards can be fused together with one another to create entirely new monsters, and much of the deeper level of play is concerned with maximising resources to uncover the most powerful Personas in the game.

[thesleepingdemonofhogwarts]

Book Title: Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and much, much more)

Author: Professor Vindictus Viridian

Summary:

Curses and Counter-Curses is a lively and comprehensive guide to the mischievous art of curse-casting in the magical world. Professor Vindictus Viridian, known for his cheeky humor and sharp wit, combines instruction with creativity, providing aspiring witches and wizards with a toolkit for both playful pranks and more serious magical confrontations.

Key Features:

1. Extensive Catalog of Curses:

• Hair Loss Hex: Causes the target to lose all their hair in a matter of moments, often used in humorous contexts.

• Jelly-Legs Jinx: Renders the victim’s legs weak and wobbly, making it difficult for them to stand or walk straight.

• Tongue-Tying Curse: Hinders the target’s ability to speak coherently, turning their words into a jumbled mess.

• The Blushing Boil Hex: Inflicts bright red boils that appear on the face of anyone attempting to lie, making it a fun way to expose deceit.

• Charmed Chatterbox: Turns the recipient into a compulsive talker, unable to stop revealing secrets and gossip.

• Frog-Face Curse: Temporarily transforms the victim’s face into that of a frog, resulting in a hilarious appearance.

• Squeaky Shoes Spell: Enchants footwear to squeak loudly, creating embarrassment for the wearer and amusement for bystanders.

• Knock-Knees Jinx: Causes the target’s knees to buckle awkwardly, leading to a comical gait and potential falls.

• The Whimsical Wobble Hex: Makes the target uncontrollably dance every time music plays, a hilarious yet disruptive curse.

• Wart-Wonder Jinx: Causes unsightly warts to sprout all over the target’s body, serving as an excellent deterrent against unwanted attention.

2. Counter-Curses and Self-Defense:

• Each curse is meticulously paired with a counter-curse, allowing practitioners to undo the mischief they may face. For instance:

• Regrowth Potion: A remedy to restore hair after the Hair Loss Hex.

• Stability Charm: A quick incantation to counter the Jelly-Legs Jinx, allowing the target to regain control.

3. Practical Applications and Case Studies:

• Viridian illustrates how to apply these spells in various scenarios, from competitive dueling to light-hearted pranks at gatherings. Each section is accompanied by case studies of famous duels where these curses have been employed, providing historical context.

4. Humorous Anecdotes and Cautionary Tales:

• The book is filled with whimsical anecdotes of famous curse-casters, including notable failures that led to unexpected consequences. These stories serve as both entertainment and valuable lessons on the importance of responsibility in magic.

5. Interactive Components:

• Quizzes, spell challenges, and space for readers to craft their own unique curses encourage creativity and engagement. This makes the book not just a guide, but also a fun activity book for those looking to test their skills.

6. Ethical Considerations:

• Viridian encourages readers to consider the ethical implications of their magic. Sections are dedicated to discussing when it’s appropriate to use curses, the potential for unintended harm, and the importance of consent in spellcasting.

Conclusion:

Professor Vindictus Viridian’s Curses and Counter-Curses is an essential addition to any witch or wizard’s library. With its rich variety of spells, clever humor, and practical insights, this book not only entertains but also educates on the fine balance of using magic for mischief and for good. It embodies the playful spirit of the wizarding world while imparting vital lessons on responsibility and creativity in magic.

[remidyal]

End of Year Game - Writer's Edition

Pick out five different passages you wrote this year that you really like and share them, saying as much or as little as you want about what you like about them. This is a chance to show off! You can reblog this or start your own post, up to you.

All mine are going to be from D20 fics - 1, 3, and 5 are FH fics, but 2 is ASO and 4 is Never After and both of those contain spoilers so watch out if you're not yet seen them.

First, from Twelve Hours, it's Aelwyn learning completely the wrong lesson from the experience:

Aelwyn looked over, tears in her eyes.  "...Aah.  Adaine.  It's fine.  I've learned.. I've learned a lot of really important things, these past few years.  About how important it is to have others helping you, and about how much I might have hurt.. you and others.  And I am sorry for that.  I do love you.  But most importantly, I've learned... I've learned from Arthur Aguefort that if you're a powerful enough wizard and you have enough wards on your house, you can get away with any number of crimes and the government can't really stop you."

Adaine made at least a half-hearted attempt at a counterspell of the Teleport that followed - none of the others had gotten that far in wizarding - but Aelwyn was ready with a counterspell back of her own, and maybe it really was for the best.  They had the information they needed, and they had Ostentatia's palimpsest, and if Aelwyn wanted to find somewhere to hide from Kalvaxus other than a jail cell, that did seem fair enough in exchange.

Next up, from Gallivant's End, the initial two paragraphs which I think do a really nice job of setting up the interior conflict the piece is about:

Being deep underwater and finding a current that leads you swiftly and perfectly to where you need to get to, Riva for short, did not even know the name of the ship they had hopped onto, nor the two before that since leaving the Wurst.  It was information that could easily be found, of course, plucked from the minds of any of those on the ship around them, but all they really wanted to know was whether they were headed in the right general direction to get to home eventually, and they were.

Gallivant had been lovely, of course, and by the end full of love, and in fact the only person of the crew that Riva could no longer be certain they fully loved was themself.

Third, from Locate Creatures, Riz and Penny interrogating a responsible adult, showing my usual level of respect for Gilear:

"I do not have your money, as I have...  Oh.  Riz.  It's you."  Gilear said, sitting up.  "Is there something that you require, or have I offended you in some way?"

"We need to know who this is and what their address is right now, and if anyone asks why you gave out an address you can say it was at gunpoint."  Riz said, Penny adding "And knifepoint!" from behind, holding the sketch out with one hand and her knife with the other.

"Aah.  Yes.  I do recognize this student.  I trust you have a good reason for this, Riz?  Do I need to talk to your mother again?"  Gilear said, and Riz shook his head.

"No, it's just a kidnapping case.  We'll have it resolved first thing in the morning, I promise.  Just get me the address." 

Four, from Glass, Cinderella preparing to do what she wants and doesn't want to do:

Unfortunately, they weren't as fast as they could have been.  A bare twenty seconds after they'd gotten started on the ritual, the doors behind them had opened, the six of Rosamund's group with their own seventh impossibly in the form of the Baba Yaga bursting through them, and Cinderella felt ill to the very core of her soul.  She had convinced herself that she would be able to do Rosamund the kindness of an ending she was unaware was coming, wherever the girl and her group had retreated to, and yet...

She raised a javelin in salute to her sister of the Crown, before shutting the visor of her armor that would render herself completely unseen.  She could put Sleeping Beauty to rest, one last time.

How much it hurt her to do would not matter.  The End drew near.  Cinderella would make certain of that.

Last, from Missing, a completely wild paragraph in a completely crazy stretch of choices from our protagonist Aelwyn:

Aelwyn swerved, scraping against a car with a horrifying sound, yanking the wheel to and froe and trying to save it, and there was an awful noise from the tires, and...  she definitely didn't have control, now, and the time had come to abandon this plan.

Moments before the police car plowed into the side of a building, Aelwyn Misty Stepped out of it and thirty feet away, dropping the Disguise Self as well - it was close to expiring anyway - and just hurrying along towards the docks on foot, trying to ignore the screaming and sirens behind her.  She couldn't do anything about those now; hopefully nobody was hurt, but the important thing was to not get caught.

[granulesofsand]

🗝️🏷️ implication of RAMCOA

The Freedom, it is abounding. It’s like the system was a bunch of fish in a bucket and someone dumped us into the lake. We have taken off in every direction, the only lack is that of funds.

In a single subsystem: one of them is rendering drape adhesives on CAD, another reading and writing their favorite ship, another building a website for competition. I had to hold back an unrelated group from purchasing polymorph pellets because they have yet to finish the latest sewing project.

It’s permeated by a sense of Not Allowed. We’re building bonds outside of our set locations, which is Not Allowed. We’re expressing our multiplicity outwardly, which is Not Allowed. We’re gaining skills that were not in our predesigned life plan, which is Not Allowed.

I’m going to miss this so much. We don’t have to worry about food because we have Room and Board from the college. We don’t pay for extra lessons, materials, or certificates as long as we pretend to be from the right department.

I learned how to cut metal without those nasty slivers. We’re a psychology student. Someone had the guts to sign up for cultural clubs that we don’t look like we belong to, but I’m so excited to meet people who are also trying to recover a history stolen from them, even if ours was more recent. We get emails for weaponry clubs, which I didn’t know existed.

It’s access to everything, beyond what I’ve ever dreamed we could have. I want to cry from joy, but that is also Not Allowed. I’ve taken to cackling that gets progressively louder and more demented as I go on.

It’s not going to last forever. We’ll be lucky to have another 3 months. But it’s so so good. We can do so much outside of their thumb. We can preserve the Freedom, even if we can’t keep the individual elations. The world is bigger in person than through a porthole.