#every fluid extracted from his body like a tick

[saylorsaysstop]

Scared | Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

a/n: i needed a lil bit of angst and also wanted a first-time dad!Stephen fic so... i combined them. here you go 😭

warnings: bit of angst, talks of childbirth (nothing explicit), anxiety

The hours seemed to tick on forever. Another few nerve-stricken paces and Stephen Strange was positive he’d burn a hole into the linoleum floors. 

As a surgeon, he had never been nervous performing a procedure. He was the greatest neurosurgeon out there and no one could take away his title. His calm reserve, his steady hand. He was quintessentially perfect. Anxiety didn’t grip him in its vice. 

Until the accident. He finally was made aware of his emotions and how delicate he truly could become. He discovered his unwavering ability to exhaust emotion; tears, sadness, happiness, love. It all came like a tidal wave upon his metaphorical shoreline when you happened. When you walked into his life, he discovered that he could feel all of those emotions, sometimes all at once. But fear was the least felt. 

Until today. Today he felt fear. He never wanted to experience such a cruel emotion but as he watched you writhe in pain and cry for him to make it stop while knowing this was one problem he couldn’t solve with the wave of his hand, that nature must take its course, he grew scared. He had been waiting for this moment ever since those two lines appeared on the pregnancy test, after the initial shock of oh wow, I’m going to be a dad after not wanting kids, and today in the delivery room, mournful that he couldn’t be more for you than just a hand to squeeze and a shoulder to cry on… and bite. He wasn’t expecting teeth marks on his skin today, but he’d let you do it a million times over if it meant he could get you through this.

“You’re doing so good, baby. I promise. It’s almost over.” he had encouraged you with both hands clasped through yours, his body leaning over the edge of the bed as you worked through every single ache and pain. You held him like a vice until you were dizzy, his voice the only thing holding you to the bed. You blocked out the voices of the doctors, nurses, you only desired Stephen’s encouragement through such a trauma as this.

And when the pain ceased and you felt a sudden emotion of emptiness, the one thing that only you had held on the inside for nine months was extracted from your being, you felt numb. 

Stephen held you tightly, awaiting that glorious sound all parents mewled about. His hands were trembling in yours as he waited, and waited, and waited. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Cry.” Stephen whispers to a little girl who couldn’t hear him. “What’s going on?” he demands, using the voice he reserved for the operating room. 

He hears the doctor and nurse's correspondence. 

“Fluid in the lungs” - “Can’t breathe” - “Lips are blue”. 

Quickly, his mind whirred and he knew what was happening. His baby girl had entered the world essentially lifeless. He turns to you, feeling as you force yourself up in the hospital bed by way of his arm. You clutch his forearm in a death grip despite your strength having been drained, the wave of adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you struggle to overhear. 

“What is going ON?!” you scream at the top of your lungs, pain surging throughout your limbs. You were a brand new mother who hadn’t got to see your daughter’s face and more importantly hear her cry. 

“Honey, I need you to lie back down,” Stephanie coaxes, kissing your forehead that was slick with sweat. You look up at your husband whose eyes are fixated on you. “Take some breaths for me, alright?” He knows you’re on the verge of panic so he quickly reaches above the hospital bed to grab the oxygen mask. 

“Stephen!” you exclaim, lungs aching. He shushes you and closes his hands around yours. He wouldn’t dare let his resolve down, not now. You needed him more than ever and he couldn’t let you see him fall apart, even though he wanted to bombard those working on his baby and the cause. 

“She’s going to be okay. We’ve got to let them look at her.” He smothers his face against your hair, reaches up, and strokes your scalp, “That’s my girl, nice deep breaths. I need you to stay calm for her. Can you do that for our little girl, sweetheart?” 

You nod your head. Your ears were ringing so loud after she came out that you didn’t overhear what Stephen did. 

“I-I’m scared,” you blubber. 

Stephen can feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes. I am too, baby. I am too he thinks to himself. 

“There’s no need to be scared. I’ll be scared for us both.” Stephen kisses your temple before moving to your lips, tasting the saltwater tears that had fallen to your mouth. 

That was hours ago. Stephen continued to pace the floors. The last he heard was that his daughter was being taken to the NICU for further observation and to be stabilized. Fortunately, Christine had stopped by a few times to check in. She of course had no updates for the two of you, but she was there as a means of emotional support. Each time she snuck in quietly, she’d find a pacing Stephen who she only sighed at. 

“Have you sat down?” Christine whispered, seeing as you were finally asleep. Stephen shakes his head as Christine grabs his hand, forcing him to stop. “Stephen. You need to sit.” she leads him to the chair but he shakes his head.

“No, Christine, I need–,”

“To be a supportive husband and great father. You can’t do that when youre footprints are embedded into the floor.” she chuckles quietly but turns serious upon seeing his wary expression. She licks her lips and sighs. “If that little girl is anything like you? She won’t give up. She’ll be a fighter. But she needs a father who can remain strong for her… You can’t stay strong if you’re exhausting yourself. The same goes for her,” Christine looks over at you. “She needs you to lean against during this which means she needs you relaxed and alert. But pacing won’t do anything.”

Stephen draws in a sharp breath and finally takes a seat upon Christine’s pushing of his shoulders. She smiles at him and pats his shoulder. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, Stephen.”

He sure hoped so. “Thank you,” he nods his head, appreciative of her friendship despite their past. He squeezes her hand just before she removes it from his shoulder. 

“Try and squeeze in a cat nap. You’ll feel better.” 

He chuckles, knowing sleep was out of the question entirely. But rather than arguing with her, he nods his head in agreement. When Christine left and Stephen was left alone with his thoughts, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine him finally holding his daughter, and how relief would wash over him the moment he could see her. That’s how he managed to close his eyes and relax. He did it for his two girls. You and that precious little one fighting upstairs. 

An hour or so later, when the door to your room opened, Stephen’s eyes bolted open and he was up on his feet in seconds. The woman who delivered your daughter enters the room, pushing a tiny glass cart. Stephen’s heart thudded wildly in his chest, realization washing over him at just who this sweet little visitor could be.

“Hi, Dad,” the doctor whispers. 

Stephen gasped quietly at the sight, that relief he clung to after Christine left washing over him. “How is she?” he asks. 

“She scared us there for a little while.. she came so fast that she swallowed some fluid on the way out, but she’s perfectly healthy. I didn’t want to wake Mom up. I know she’s been anxious, but would you like to hold your little girl?”

Stephen felt a rush of emotion. He never wanted kids. He thought they were irritabilities, tiny humans who would annoy him forever. He was one of those people who when the kid ran around the dinner table in a restaurant after being told to stop, would smirk when they finally smacked their forehead against the surface. Christine normally always kicked him in the shin under the table and then you started doing it when you began dating. But that all changed the morning you approached him with trembling hands and a positive pregnancy test. 

“Yes, please,” Stephen whispers, looking over at you. He was grateful you had finally succumbed to the clutches of sleep. He wasn’t sure how much longer you could keep going, as you were nearing 48 hours of no sleep at all. 

The doctor smiles and motions him to sit in the chair beside your bed. She rolls the glass cart over to him and looks down at the sleeping bundle. “She didn’t get to have skin-to-skin with Y/N so would you like to do that? She can do it also when she wakes up, but we find that skin-to-skin holds many benefits.”

Stephen nods his head as the doctor lists the positives such as bonding, regulation of body temperature, and heart rate, among others, tears burning the corners of his eyes. He quickly unbuttons his shirt and pulls it open, his heart racing even faster when the doctor carefully picks up his daughter and leads her to his chest. She rests the baby on top of him and immediately, Stephen feels like a brand new man. The softness and warmth of her skin against his made his serotonin level skyrocket and caused more tears to freely fall. 

“Congratulations, Dad,” she whispers in the dimly lit room. “We just fed her in the nursery but when Mama wakes up, we’ll let her try feeding her. Call if you need anything,” 

Stephen nods his head and watches the doctor leave, gently closing the door behind her. He looks down at the new life snuggled against him. Her eyes peel open, naturally blue irises glassy as she moves her lips. Stephen could already see you within her. Her sweet little nose, the curl of her lips. He took a small peek under the hat, the tiniest wisps of brown hair visible, sending the new father into a chokehold. 

“Oh, my darling girl,” Stephen coos. “You gave Mommy and I quite the scare today… Yes, you did. But I’m so glad you’re here. Do you know who I am? You’ve heard my voice every single day… Whether I was telling you and Mommy how much I love you or bickering with Wong. You’ve heard it. I’m your Daddy,” the words fall like water from his mouth and his chest tightens as he dubs himself with the title. Daddy. He’s a father. 

The baby girl gently closes her eyes, lips smacking as she remains rested on his chest. Stephen ran his fingertip up and down her spine, bewildered by how soft she was. He glances over at your sleeping form. He smiles, being the proudest he’s ever been since the day he proposed and the day he wed you. He had you to thank for all of this. His little family. The only family he’s known other than those he’s encountered on his journey. 

“My sweet Tessa… Yes, you’re my special girl, aren’t you? I promise. I may not do everything right in life but I’ll do right by you. Thank you for changing my life,” the tears flow without warning as Stephen presses his quivering lips to the side of her head, squeezing his lids shut as he snuggles her closer. You stir gently and awake to the sight of your husband holding your newborn, your heart fluttering. 

“She’s okay?” You ask hoarsely. 

Stephen’s head lifts at the noise and a smile of relief greets his face. He looked exhausted and you felt bad that he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep except for his small power nap. He wouldn’t dare miss out on anything. 

“She’s perfect, sweetheart. You did it.” 

The look of utter pride glows on his face. You feel your lungs refill with fresh air as you wince, moving to sit up gently. “Can I?” 

Stephen chuckles quietly. “How could you ask me something like that? Of course, you can. Tessa, let’s meet your beautiful Mommy, yeah? I know, I know,” he shushes her as she starts to pout her lips, a pitiful cry on the verge of slipping. Your body felt like electricity had just been shot throughout it, the excitement bubbling. 

“Here, let’s unbutton this,” Stephen holds Tessa in one arm while he helps you unbutton your hospital gown. Once your chest is exposed, Stephen places Tessa on you and you fall apart the moment you touch her. Your lips quiver and the tears spill.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, kissing her. You drew in a deep breath, Tessa’s scent making you cry even more. Stephen slips into bed beside you and carefully puts one arm around you while holding his other hand over yours that’s currently on Tessa. “S-she’s perfect,” you cry. 

Stephen wipes his eyes through a sniffle. 

“She is,” he can’t help but agree. “I’ve never seen someone so little,” 

You giggle softly, kissing her head as you lean into your husband’s chest. “We’re parents, Stephen. We have a daughter.” 

He smirks, his eyes resting on you. He leans in and kisses your lips tenderly, savoring the taste. As he pulls away, both of you turn your attention down to your newest addition, your hearts soaring over the moon.

[imaginativeamateur]

HEY!!!! I read your kakashi x reader in which kakshi takes care of tired reader and it was *chef’s kiss* so i was thinking if you could a kakashi x reader in which the reader gets poisoned during a mission. They get a small scratch so it does not work quickly. So when they get home, they start to feel a bit dizzy and then start coughing up blood LOTS of blood ( if you don’t mind). So kakashi gets worried and takes them to the hospital. When they get there tsunade tells them it is a rare type of poison so they will need a day or two to make the antidote. So the reader is in pain and coughing up blood. Kakashi tries their best to comfort them. Sorry it is long. Feel free to ignore it. Sorry for bad english. THANK YOU ✨

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] Unbearable

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Note: Firstly, I'm glad that you like that piece, anon:D and your idea is fantastic!!! Okay, this one is a bit longer than what I usually write for, probably around 2,000 words. It's a mix of angst and fluff, the ending is fluffy though. And I didn't know what to name this one either:D Without further ado, please enjoy!

You pushed the door open, exclaiming happily when you finally got to sniff the familiar scent of his signature dishes, “I’m home, Kakashi!”

“How was your mission, love?” Wiping his palms on a handkerchief, he lifted his eyes from the pan to quickly examine if you had any injuries.

“Absolutely successful! We captured and brought the rebels back for investigation. My captain will be reporting it to the Hokage so I’m off for now!” You made your way next to him in the kitchen, pulling off your gloves in the process, “What are you making?”

Kakashi went off talking about the dishes he was preparing for your dinner but your mind turned fuzzy in the middle of his sentence. You lost your balance and tumbled backward as your sight blurred, not able to see anything clearly. With his quick reflex, the Copy Ninja caught you by your forearm and guided you to the floor, constantly asking if you were okay. Kakashi’s visible eye widened, brows furrowing as his hands roamed to search for any injuries that his eyes did not catch. You had no fatal wounds except for several scratches here and there, and he could sense your depleted chakra level. Lifting your body up in his arms, he whispered as he carried you to your shared bedroom, “You probably overused your chakra again. You should be back to normal tomorrow after a good rest.”

You sprawled tiredly in your bed, having no appetite for a meal and Kakashi respected it, he knew when it came to reviving a Ninja’s chakra, nothing would be able to beat some decent sleep. He let you stay by yourself for a few hours and went to finish his reports, returning to check on you once in a while. When he was finally done with work, Kakashi quietly slipped under the blanket on his side of the bed, carefully scooted closer to your warmth, hugged you close, and peacefully closed his eyes. In the middle of the night, you were woken up by the burning sensation that coursed through your entire body and a terrible headache, having just enough time to flip onto your side in case you would vomit right then and there. And you suddenly coughed, your throat was torn when the crimson liquid spattered onto the white tiles, bled your shirt, and dripped down from your chin. Being a light sleeper, the silver-haired immediately shot up from his pillow, switched the lights on, and scrambled down to the ground. You were trembling for the time being, and within a split second, Kakashi scooped your motionless body in his arms, rushing for the hospital.

He knew for sure that you were poisoned given the symptoms that were starting to surface. The hospital workers were greatly intimidated by the threatening aura that he sent, still hugging you tight as he brought you to the operation room himself. You continued to cough in his arms, and he did not mind his turtleneck being covered entirely by your blood. Tsunade arrived with a hurried disposition, and Sakura followed close behind her lead. Kakashi immediately reported your condition to the Fifth Hokage, grimacing when he saw blood pooling on the hospital bed as the Medic’s chakra slowly entered your body. He fought to retain himself—to not sprint to your side and cradle you tight, to not bring his hand up and wipe the blood staining the corner of your lips. It was all too much to him to see you panting in agony—

“Sakura,” the blonde Medic commanded, “set up for poison extraction. Get three more people.”

The pink-haired left the room after her teacher’s assignment, fleeting on her feet when she saw your tightly shut eyes and Kakashi’s scary expression as though he was going to burn the place down. Tsunade turned to the Copy Ninja, who was leaning against the wall with a visible eye that settled a tone darker, and called, “Kakashi, I need you to hold Y/N down when I extract the poison.”

He shuddered, unsure if he would still be able to maintain the last bit of composure left. The silver-haired found it impossible to remain himself when came to your safety, but he padded to your side, shaking hands reaching out to the pale face of yours. The Godaime assured him that everything would be okay and the man took a deep breath, moving his palms to rest on both of your shoulders as the rest of the team arrived, getting to work the second they passed the door. Kakashi held onto your upper body and arms, pinning you down onto the bed when the blonde started to focus chakra on her hands. “It’ll hurt, make sure Y/N stays still,” she said before the glowing green entered your body.

Kakashi could feel his sweats running cold against his temple, his uncovered eye fixed on Tsunade's hands, periodically glancing back at your face to make sure that you were fine. His grip on your wrists was tight but not bruising, fearing that it would add to the pain that you were already enduring from the poison. The Copy Ninja had his other forearm across your shoulder blades, pressing your torso in place as the Medic worked diligently. It hurt and you yelped, shrieking from the pure pain every time her chakra seeped inside. Kakashi was restless, biting on his own lips to halt himself from releasing his grasp and hug you tight. Your eyes turned dull when Tsunade finally got the last bit of poison out of your system, heavily placing your head back onto the damp pillow as the silver-haired wiped the sweats on your forehead. When all of you thought it was over, things took a different turn—for worse.

Pain suddenly shot through your body, and you started to cough more vigorously than earlier, blood covered the white sheets of the hospital bed. The whole room turned their attention back on your figure, your eyelashes fluttered, wincing when you felt the tiniest bits of your muscles being squeezed and ripped apart. Kakashi stepped back when he looked at his hands smeared by your blood, and grimaced, “… Didn’t you get the poison out already?”

The Medic furrowed her brows, examining the extract she got in a test tube, “It’s my first time seeing this type.”

Kakashi went feral, “How long?”

The sounds of your coughs filled the quiet atmosphere of the operation room. Every ticking of the clock seemed too audibly loud each passing second the blonde observed the Copy Ninja’s face. She eventually sighed and turned to the exit, “I’m not sure. It will take a while for us to create the antidote.”

“You can’t leave Y/N suffering like this, Lady Tsunade,” he breathed out laboriously, “I can’t.”

Kakashi’s words left his lips like a desperate plea as he stared at the ground. Tsunade shut her eyes to summon enough vigor to walk out of the room. Sakura hesitantly left shortly after, silently closing the door after sending her former sensei a sympathetic look. With shaking legs that were almost unable to hold him up, the silver-haired made his way to a chair beside your bed, tracing his thumb across your lips to wipe the bloodstain away. As a Shinobi, he was too accustomed to seeing open wounds and deep gashes—too familiar with his body covered in blood after a mission, especially when he got injured. But seeing you in this state made him crumble in dejection and turmoil.

“Kakashi,” your inaudible whisper pulled him out of his deep thoughts, “what if I…”

Before you were able to finish your sentence, Kakashi hushed you with a sign as he pulled the blanket up to your chest, “Don’t say anything, love. I’m not going to let you…” And he trailed off, finding it hardly possible to continue what he was saying. You were still in pain, forehead scrunched up to restrain the groans from eliciting, tight fists hidden under the cover because you did not want him to be more distressed than he already was. Kakashi slouched his back, head dropping into his palms, cursing under his breath, “I should’ve come with you, should’ve been more careful, should’ve gotten you to the hospital sooner. I-I’m sorry, Y/N… Please, please just be okay.”

His words fell apart, slipping past his lips muffled and croaked. It had been a long while since he last felt the wet droplets tittering on the edge of his lash line—range and misery boiled in his veins as he swore to himself this would be the last time he would see you like this for as long as he was alive. He did not dare to look at you, not when he had to helplessly witness his dearest person suffering. Your breathing decelerated, the sweats beading your hairline and neck had long evaporated, and you fell asleep between his soft whispers, exhausted and drained.

Every hour passed with dread for everyone. Each time Tsunade came back to check on you set up a thin wall of hope but it all shattered shortly when she shook her head and withdrew out of the room. You were coughing less, but that did not ease the Copy Ninja because you were shriveling impossibly lifeless. You could not swallow whatever food they supplied, only able to intake water and intravenous fluid. It was after lunch when Tsunade knocked on the door—two days since you were brought to the hospital, one day since you went unconscious—and Kakashi went to slide it open for her. No longer displayed a hopeful expression, he could not bear the disappointment and emptiness from the Medic’s shake of her head. But this time, Tsunade came with good news.

“We found the antidote.”

A single sentence from the blonde levitated the somber atmosphere that was clouding Kakashi’s mind. A contented smile found its way across his lips—though covered by the mask, Tsunade could clearly see his pupil dilating and the furrow between his brows starting to slowly vanish. With a quick move, she injected the solution into your arm with Kakashi watching closely, not letting any details went unnoticed.

“The fever should be gone after lunch, I’m not quite sure when Y/N will wake up though. That depends on an individual’s ability to recover.” She stated, “You two take care.”

The silver-haired thanked the Godaime and shut the door after she had left for several seconds. Then, he went back for a quick shower—the last thing he wanted was you worrying for his enervated appearance after two days without rest—not forgetting to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving. When he returned, Kakashi brought a basket of fresh fruits with him, carefully peeling oranges and placing them on a plate for you in advance. He even went as far as bringing your pillow because you would be staying for another few days, and he wanted to make you feel comfortable. After checking over everything, he leaned his head back and closed his eye, stealing a quick nap with your hand in his—so he would know when you wake up.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, you quickly scanned the room, and your gaze settled on the very Hatake sleeping peacefully, then to his fingers intertwining yours. You let out a soft breath, “Thank you, Kakashi.”

------------------

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7

[mxvladdy]

Hello! I love your writing and I may have a prompt, if it strikes your fancy. I'm aware it might not be entirely lore-friendly a request, but I love relationship shenanigans in Obey Me, so I got to ask: how do you think Luci, Diavolo, Satan and Beel would help their anxious SO adjust when MC begins demonstrating mad prowess in witchcraft right after they first spend the night together? Sex, power and pacts seem to go hand-in-hand in related media, but no one really planned for it in their case!

Awww thankie and sorry for the long wait! I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you like this! It gave me big thirst lmaooo

Lucifer

Mmmm you smell of him in the morning. He positively oozes from your every pore. Rich and spicy, like amber and freshly turned earth.

Good. Let it be known to all that you were claimed. Thoroughly.

He put his daily routine on hold for you this morning. He was weak to your pouting.

He’ll stay in bed for a little bit to indulge you. But duty calls and work waits for no demon

Neither of you really pay attention to how hard you are clinging to him when he tries to extract himself to get dressed

You both just kind of chalk it up to neither of you want to part

The day goes on as usual for him, meetings, paperwork, meetings, punishing Mammon, meetings

But the whole time something was nagging at him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He just felt like he forgot something important

But that’s impossible-

The wall explodes out behind him cutting Lucifer off mid-sentence. The rubble and great ball of flames miss him and Diavolo by mere inches only because of the latter’s quick reflexes. “Are you alright my friend?” Diavolo asks golden eyes alight with surprise. Lucifer could feel the prince’s defensive magic prickling his skin in response to the pungent magic wafting out of the hole.

“Of course-” Lucifer steps back, straightening his jacket’s lapels, the near-miss ruffles his feathers. Both men step closer to the hole. His hackles raise.  The power emanating from the crater was far too familiar. Someone dares to use his magical signatures without permission.  Snarling into the abyss he marches forward. He ignores Diavolo’s calls to wait and strides through the hole. His wings flare up from his back along with his temper. He walks through each wave of magic that washes over him. With each destroyed wall he steps through more and more of his demonic form comes forth till he is more beast than man. Strolling through the final hole he stops. His red eyes sweep across the scene in front of him. As the seconds' tick by his mood morphs from rage to shock, then to a sense of blinding pride.  

“Well-” He crosses his arms and smirks. He turns his gaze to the epicenter of the damage.

“Luci, I am so so sorry.” You mutter aghast behind your fingers. “I-I don’t know what happened.” You were never the best student in any of the practical classes. The teachers made exceptions for you and your lack of magical prowess. In this class, the teacher always paired you up with Solomon or Luke so they could help you prepare the necessary spells and runes. But you felt so different today, stronger and sharper. Damn near unstoppable even. Just the thought of someone else doing your work made something deep inside you seethe. You didn’t need help, you’ve seen and heard the incantations a thousand times before- it wouldn’t hurt to try…Well, let’s rephrase that, it didn’t hurt you to try.

The classroom was totaled. Dust, rubble, and burning pages all float around you like a post-apocalyptic snowstorm. Soot from your uncontrolled spell blacked your clothes and skin, next to you Solomon stands rigid in shock white brows disappearing into his hairline. Quietly you lick your thumb and forefinger and put out the small blue flame singeing his bangs. “Thanks.” He spits out around a mouthful of ash and grit.

Lucifer coughs to draw all eyes back to him. He takes inventory of the room, making sure all the other students scattered about were still breathing. Satisfied he beckons to you with a finger. “Come.” You jump into motion, scrambling up and over the rubble to grab his outstretched hand.

“Lucifer.” He cuts you off.

“Not here,” He smiles warmly rubbing at some soot staining the tip of your nose. “Come let’s get you cleaned up.”

_____________

“Should I be worried?” You ask, stepping out of Lucifer’s private showers wrapped in one of his sinfully soft towels. “I’m not going to blow stuff up on a whim now, right?” You plop down on his bedroom’s couch. Lucifer hums noncommittally by his liquor cabinet.

“I doubt it. How do you feel?” He takes a seat beside you handing you a glass and grabbing your legs to drape them over his. You take a swig from the glass, the heat of the liquor getting rid of the lingering shock from class. How did you feel?

Your bones hum with some unknown energy and there was a fire coursing through your veins. “I feel like I could take on the world. Like I dominate half of the Devildom.” Lucifer’s smile was nothing short of smug.

“Good.” He sips his drink.

“Good?” You lean forward expectantly.

Lucifer strokes your cheek coming in to inhale your fresh scent. The commingling of his and your own was beyond arousing. “There is more than one way to seal and strengthen a pact, my beloved.” He pulls you into a chastened kiss, feeling your cheeks heat with a dawning realization of what he meant. “You have now given yourself to me in both body and soul. The- bonus perks were inevitable.” He parts from you, reaching for his glass.

“Will it go away?” You honestly didn’t know if you could handle any more curveballs down here.

Lucifer laughs swirling the dredges of his drink before downing it in one go. “Ideally no- but over time if it isn’t reinforced it will weaken and disappear on its own.”

“Reinforced?” The heat of your drink seems to dip lower down your body. Your demon scoffs giving you a knowing look.

He drags you onto his lap. “Are you truly satisfied with just a night with me αγαπούλα μου?” A gloved finger tugs at the hem of your towel. “If I had my way I would keep you full and drunk on my power for all eternity.” He captures you in a searing kiss draping you over the cushions of his couch, his eyes turning predatory. “Do not worry about the side effects.” He purrs caging you in. “We have all the time in the world to get you accustomed to them.”

Diavolo

He knew. This bitch knew before he ever got you in his bed-chamber. Just think of the entertainment value~

So when he sweeps you up into his quarters for the night day weekend, he just forgets to mention it to you

He is curious about how his magic will affect a human of celestial descent. Will it show up all at once? Or over a long period of time? He hopes that your blood doesn’t cancel out his claim on you

He watches you like a hawk for a while- and nothing…

Hmm. Perhaps it just didn’t take the first time? No matter, try-try-try again as the saying goes. He certainly doesn’t see you complaining

But as the week passes he slowly puts it on his backburner as his work begins to pile up again

You on the other hand are having a time. One day you are fine and dandy and the next you can read and write in languages you’ve never even heard of.

Then you started seeing some frankly crazy shit. Had the ghost at the house always been this active?

The last straw for you was accidentally freezing half of the house’s rose garden with a sneeze. To say you are panicked is an understatement

Frazzled you run to the only mage you could (kinda) trust

“It’s not funny!” You hiss frantically staring bewildered at your friend. Your look of panic just makes him laugh harder. “Stop seriously Solomon! Gods, what did I do?” You scrub at your face hard. If you made yet another freaking pact with a demon you were going to lose it. Seven idiots were enough for several lifetimes.

Solomon howls at this, drawing curious and rude looks from the surrounding tables of the tea house. You swat at his shoulder hissing like a cat. “Sorry- sorry” He hiccups. “Your turn of phrase was just so fitting.” He collects himself by taking a sip of his tea. “Tell me, what have you been doing of late?” He smirks around the rim of his cup.

You squint at him not getting it. His keen eyes drift down to land on the garden of purple and blue bruises littering your neck. You slap a hand over your hickeys. He smiles leaning over conspiratorially. “What’s it like to sleep with a God? The perks are amazing no?”  

You shook your head. “I-what perks?”

“Oh~ Loverboy didn’t warn you of certain side-effects?” The mage leans back in his chair. He was going to have a great time today. ___________

Unbelievable. You march up the walkway to the palace, your mind absolutely reeling. Did he know about this? Of course, he did-how could he not! Did he just forget? No- Diavolo was many things, smart, cunning, conniving, but never forgetful. You knew him well and knew he had to be on the lookout for “side effects” as Solomon put it.

Fine, two can play at this game.

“Ah! Mio Giglio! How are you?” Dia glances up from his mountainous amount of paperwork when you throw open his office door. He rises in one fluid motion to scoop you up in a tight hug. Now that you know what to look for, you hone into the way he holds you. His large hands run down your back and sides possessively, he clings to you rubbing his bulking frame on you like a cat marking you. He leans in close to rub the bridge of his strong nose up and down your clavicle and neck. You feel his hot breath on your skin when he exhales. How had you not noticed this?

“Good, and you?” You smile into the fabric of his shirt. Carefully you wrap your arms around his solid waist. You hug him lightly so as to not give away your little surprise.

“Better with you here.” He chuckles stepping back to return to his desk. You follow closely behind waiting for the perfect time to strike. “What have you been up to?” He asks innocently, going to sit back down. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

You hum nonchalantly coming up behind him to rub at his tense shoulders. “Nothing much.” He nods closing his eyes as your fingers dig into sore muscles. “Usual school week, made some new friends...Went shopping with Asmo and Luke this morning. Bought you some treats, hidden from Barbatos of course.” You drop a quick peck on his cheek. Diavolo smiles sinking lower into his chair. He hopped it was something with lemon or orange, they were in season now. Barbatos had been on the warpath with his sugar and carb intake of late. “Then I had tea with Solomon and he filled me in on some very interesting facts.” You kiss his hairline.

“Mmmm?”

You pull away from his warmth to come around to straddle his lap while he is distracted. He jerks at your sudden weight on his lap but relaxes almost immediately. He opens a golden eye, not even realizing he had closed them. Your demeanor shifts when his gaze is fully set on you, all sweet innocence gone. A cheshire grin spreads across your face. “Funny you should ask if I’m feeling ok. I have been feeling a bit off of late.”

Diavolo tenses. “Are you well?” He tries to reach for you, his arms coming off the armrests of his desk chair. You strike like a viper, your small hands wrap and lock around his thick wrists pinning them to the chair. His eyes bulge in shock. You watch coyly as his biceps bulge under his clothes. He tries to break free for a few minutes before settling back. “I see-”

Leaning in you brush your lips across his ears, heart racing with excitement. “You forgot to mention quite a few things, Dia.” The low purr he emits shakes both of you.

“My apologies.” He admits. “You know I love a good show. Shame I missed it.” He throws you a rogue smile. “Forgive me?”

You slide closer until you rested chest to chest, legs wrapping around his to pin him down further. His purr drops down an octave. Locking eyes with him you remove a hand from his wrist daring him to move. He doesn’t. You move slowly and deliberately resting your hand on his strong neck. His reaction was instantaneous. His pupils dilate, and the gold of his irises turn molten. You start to feel his magic seep out, you match it, giddy with excitement that you could. “Only if you work for it.” You smirk.

Diavolo nods readily, licking at his dry lips in anticipation. He was more than ready to atone.

Satan

He is a good noodle and has the decency to tell you what will happen beforehand

It’s only polite to give you a heads up before he breaks your headboard

You both are curious about how it will affect you. He at least is excited to teach you some practical magic

Plus the idea of you pranking Lucifer with magic? Sublime.

He smells it blossoming under your skin while you sleep.

It’s sharp and minty with a smoky finish. Then the power hits him like a brick to the face. He is in awe.

It’s like an electrifying feedback loop that just energizes and excites him and you feel it too. He’ll lose himself in you and your body again, hyped up on the headiness of it all.

Once he has *cough* cleared his head *cough* he takes you out to try out your newly found powers. He has so many things he wants to teach you.

Satan kneels beside you nodding his head in approval at your chalk markings. Your lines weren’t exactly steady, he could see how your hand shook as you copied his paperwork but you followed it dutifully. He finds your nervousness adorable as if he would let anything bad happen to you. At his go-ahead, you get to your feet. Turning your palms down towards your summoning circle you recite your spell and watch in amazement as your runes glow bright green underneath you. In a flash of blinding lights and smoke, you sense the pull of the creature emerging from your rune work. Delighted you look down at your handy work.

“Congratulations my darling, exceptionally done.” He grins proudly from his perch by his bookshelf.

You bend down and pick up the little critter. “What is it?” It looked like a blob of flan but firmer. Its squishy form shivers in your palm when you poked it. Its body giving way under your gentle poke. It was dark green but lightened to an electric green at its base. It was surprisingly warm.

You feel Satan coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “It looks to be a lesser familiar, not bad for your first time summoning ever.” The jelly wiggles at his praise even though you couldn’t find any discernible features on its smooth little body. You turn it this way and that in your hand, even though it didn’t have eyes you could sense it was sizing you up to.

“What can it do?” You raise a brow at your companion. His arms circle your waist, his grin turning mischievous.

“Let's find out.”

________

Your lungs burn, each breath coming hard and sharp while you run. The sound of your pounding feet was swallowed up by the rush of foot traffic around you. Satan drags you behind him ushering you both around the throng of students. “Quickly!” He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a brilliant smile. “The further away from his office we are the less likely he could blame us.”

You laugh breathlessly along with him.

________

“What Belphie say?” You lean onto Satan’s shoulder to peek at his phone. The two of you sit, crowding in on each other's space underneath a desk in one of the unused classrooms.

“It’s glorious. Everything is covered. He says it looks like magic won’t remove it either!” He cackles showing you his screen. Belphie sent him a selfie. He is grinning devilishly from ear to ear throwing you both a peace sign through the screen. In the background, you could clearly see a very irate Lucifer. His face was red with fury and his clothes covered in green goo. His office was wrecked. Your little jelly did a number on it, you hadn’t expected it to expand as large as it did. Your familiar popping on the edge of Lucifer’s desk wasn’t intended either, but totally worth it. “Think you can summon another?” Satan asks, darkening his screen. You shake your head, whatever power you had earlier today had been drained after your little stunt.

Satan nods in understanding. “Shame- imagine what one of your jellies could do to Diavolo’s office.”

“Satan-”

He chuckles wrapping an arm around your back. He plants a loud kiss onto your forehead. “Alright-alright. Perhaps after a bit of a rest and recharge?”

You poke his leg playfully and laugh. “If you wanted to have sex again you could just ask.”  

He dips low and kisses you. “Well then- if you are up for another round of delinquency…”

Beelzebub

Sweet baby didn’t know-

Well, he knew about it. Lucifer had given everyone “the talk” about it a couple of millennia ago.

He never really thought about it before you because he didn’t sleep with humans often (Him so big, human so smol if he isn’t paying attention it could be...bad)

So when you drag him into your room he just doesn’t think about it. You are both so oblivious

He doesn’t think about the shift in your scent, your kisses were just as sweet as always. If there was a peppery aftertaste to your kiss he chalks it up to something you had for breakfast

He doesn’t think anything of it when you practically drag him from your bed to shower together before school

He doesn’t think about it when at lunch your appetite starts to rival his

He starts to think about it during P.E. when your dodge ball puts a demon down for the rest of class

He definitely notices when you pin him down to steal his sandwich during your picnic date

Now he’s freaking out, whether it's because you are showing inhuman strength or the fact that you stole his food who knows

You nab yet another one of his sandwiches and start munching away with a hum of happiness. “Hey, babe.” He rumbles beneath you. “You feeling alright?” He wraps his large hands around your waist. Your weight was warm and comfortable over his prone form. He had whisked you away for an afternoon picnic, something to spend more time with you alone. After last night he craved being around you more than anything. He had packed enough food for him in mind. But it looks like it wouldn’t be enough. Odd. Beel rests his head back on the thick blanket protecting you both from the slightly damp grass underneath.

“Hmm?” You swallow down a mouthful of ruben. “Yeah! Famished though.” You lean back on his strong hip and swipe your finger around your mouth to brush off some crumbs. You reach for the other half of his sandwich to devour but pauses when you catch Beel’s kicked puppy look. With a huff of amusement, you offer the other half to him letting him chomp down with a fanged smile in thanks.

He chews in silence, watching you pick up a bowl of fresh fruit. Hmmm… He runs his rough palms up and down your thighs and hips ignoring your squirming and giggles when he runs over the thin skin of your sides. He squeezes you lightly. Huh- Your muscles were firmer than this morning, now that he was looking closer he could see that your frame was a bit sturdier too. Still his perfectly lovable and squishy human but more solid around the edges. In a last-ditch effort to figure out what has changed, he reaches out for his pact mark.

He jerks forward, upsetting your position on his lap, causing you to tumble backward, fruit flying everywhere. “Beel!” You shriek. He shushes you, squeezing your cheeks between warm hands.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?” You repeat. “What dessert? I’m pretty sure the fruit was part of it...but I mean. If you want grassy cantaloupe it’s all yours.” You eye the remains of the seasonal fruit laying around you and then at the basket. You were pretty sure you saw some pastries at the bottom of it too.

“We had sex.” He blurts out bluntly, and quite loudly.

Your face heats. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.” You push him off sitting up on your elbows. “Please, why don’t you yell it out for all the wildlife to hear too.”

Beelzebub shakes his head groaning. “No-I forgot to warn you about our pact.”

Ahh-oh. You eye him wearily. If he was stressing you were stressing, it wasn’t like him to get so bent out of shape. “Ok-is it, like bad?”  What were you going to die? That would be a big thing to just forget. “How about you fill me in big guy.” You listen enraptured while he jerkily explains how you have strengthened your bond exponentially without even realizing it. Magic, super strength, the appetite, all because you jumped his bones.

Nice.

It sounded so cool- but then overwhelming all at the same time. Was it permanent? What if you lost control and actually hurt someone for real.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it-I just. You felt so good.” He wilts. “I should have been more careful- this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Beel-”

“I swear.” He bulldozes over you. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

You cut him off, combing your fingers through his hair soothingly. “I believe you, Beel.” You smile reassuringly. “It’s not like it’s gonna hurt me...right?”  He thinks about it for a minute then grunts, shaking his head. You grin brighter stretching out your arms. “And I get some cool powers right?”

He nods again. “For a bit yes.”

You get up off the ground excitedly. “Right then! You’ll show me the ropes right? I’ve never done anything magical before!” You look at your palms as if fire or sparks were going to fly out of them. Beel rises to his feet too.

“You sure? I doubt I will be as good of a mentor as Lucifer or even Belphie.” He looks around the large grove of trees and sprawling grassy acreage around you both. You both were far away from the populated areas of the mountain pass and town. He could practice with you freely and without worrying about damaging anything important. “Not the date I promised, but if you really want me to show you some stuff…” He offers you a shy smile. He did have a few cool tricks he could show you. You nod already rolling up your sleeves. Well- if this was what you really wanted then he would be glad to show you.  

[pallasperilous]

Piledriver

Dean/Castiel 1815 words Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair Coda, Fix-It (sort of), Grief is a weird and protean beast, Second Person POV, but also Dean POV, I realize what a tall order that is y’all but I swear it’s mad judicious {AO3 version}

You’re not really sure when you started doing it.

That’s a fucking lie. 

You started doing it ten, maybe twenty minutes after. 

Not as a conscious thing, not like those snappy comebacks you think of the next day, or like those speeches you practice in your head and then never get the chance to deliver. (Although it seems like other people have better luck in that regard.) 

It’s more like a tic — like the way Sam used to pick at his hand, or your mom used to hum the same little bit of Stairway to Heaven offkey. (Which was kind of a trip since she’d come back from, you know. There.)

You think: I love you, too. 

 It’s just a drumbeat of syllables running in the back of your head. Might as well be shave and a haircut. Which you could use, incidentally.

It eases off a little, after the universe ticks over. You’re so fucking relieved that you basically revert to a lower life form for awhile — you’re like a jellyfish, or a fungus, or a Yankees fan. For a few minutes there, things are pretty sweet.  

Then the clock starts running again, and you and Sam are faced with the frankly fucked-up necessity of needing a hot meal and somewhere to pee. 

It kicks back in then — during the peeing, specifically, because goddamn did the dude never get over what a fucking nightmare it is to have a bladder. Like it actually made him mad. Even after he got his batteries back and was once more able to, like, effervesce fluids out of his body or teleport them to the surface of Mars or whatever, he never stopped giving you pitying looks whenever he got up to use the can. On the road he’d ask if anybody needed a bathroom break at every single freeway exit. You chewed him out once that you in fact were not a four year-old or an Alzheimer’s patient and could therefore hold it for more than twenty minutes at a time, and he looked at you with such bottomless patience and empathy that you could’ve thrown him out of the fucking car. I love you too.

Instead of a heartbeat, it’s like a piledriver hitting the ground ten feet away.  

I love you too. It rattles your fucking thighs as you wash your hands in the gas station bathroom. None of the other dudes do because dudes are fucking disgusting. This attitude was maybe part of the problem.

I love you too. You come out and the car’s moved and you have a hot second of freakout, then you see Sam’s just pulled it away from the pump and parked in the lot and honest to God (go team!) you almost burst into tears. What the fuck.

I love you, too. 

That night you do your absolute best to lobotomize yourself (not to obliterate yourself, which is a sign of progress and for which effort you absolutely deserve a round of applause from…somebody), but the piledriver just keeps on pounding away and you realize that it’s either piledrive or get piledriven. Sam’s asleep six feet away after his own inpatient procedure but you’re really fucking starting to panic so you say it out loud, anyway. 

I love you, too.

And something gives, eases off like a gas bubble turning a corner in your gut, and you pass out.

So you lean into it. You make it your thing. You figure you can either be losing your mind, or practicing, so you choose practicing. You’re showing the powers that be that you’re keeping the faith. You’re holding a torch.  You’re being the change you want to see in the world. You’ve talked to coma patients before and you’ve prayed to this asshole before and this isn’t any different. Isn’t it?

Washing the dishes: I love you, too.

Checking the oil: I love you, too.

Swinging a machete and hitting that sweet spot between vertebrae where the head just pops right off, like a Lego dude: I love you, too. 

Pulling on socks: I love you, too.

Burning that fucking jacket: I love you, too.

Not out loud, or at least, not where anybody can hear you. That would be weird.

And you know, you know, that he doesn’t hear you, either. You know that, worst of all, he didn’t even need to hear it. You’ve heard a lot of shit about unconditional love, but it’s never had any goddamn appeal to you because, what? Somebody loves you the same no matter what fucked up shit you do, no matter how you feel about them? 

That’s either (a) some seriously poisoned Kool-Aid or (b) so huge it’s useless, like giving somebody a galaxy for their birthday. You want unconditional love? Get a fucking dog. 

I love you, too.

Lately you’ve been swapping in phrases that have the same rhythm or meter or whatever, so you can say them out loud without worrying anybody more than usual. The rain in Spain does some heavy lifting for a couple weeks, then ba-DUMP-bump, tissshh! followed by the king of beers for about half a particularly shitty afternoon and then closing out with you bet your ass, which is a much better fit for your lifestyle. 

So fine, great. Life goes on. You were the subject of his unconditional cosmic love-boner whatever and getting that off his chest was all he needed to go happily fucking off into the abyss. And you’re still down here (up here? over here?), drinking coffee and hating Mondays. Awesome. I love you, too.

This is around when you discover the best match for both meter and tone yet, one so close that it doesn’t even feel like a placebo for the real phrase. It’s a whole different drug, actually. It makes you feel like a million bucks, it’s absolute rocket fuel. If the original is whiskey, this shit is meth. You turn a whole nest of ghouls into one big ghoul smoothie and then at the bar later somebody nervously informs you that you were yelling it out loud the whole damn time. 

The phrase is: go fuck yourself.

You imagine it at night, lying in the empty bed, your pulse hammering in time: him standing there, one big cow-eyed khaki rumple, and you yell: Go fuck yourself. You asshole. You bastard. You smug piece of shit. Go fuck yourself. How many times have we done this, and every fucking time you find a way to make it worse. Go fuck yourself.

I love you, too.

After a few weeks it loses its edge. You kinda knew it would, having some experience with the limits of amphetamines and your own rage-juice glands. It downgrades from a battle-cry to a slur. At some point you realize you’re not even saying it to him anymore. You’re saying it to you. Go fuck yourself.

You try to imagine him saying it instead. Go fuck yourself,  in that nutso Sam the Eagle voice that he must’ve gotten out of a box of Cracker Jacks, because it sure didn’t come complimentary with Jimmy Novak’s dry-ass mouth.  Go fuck yourself, Dean.

Somehow it’s still the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to you. 

So you go back to the OG version, and this time it feels like it settles in. You do whatever the psychological equivalent is of buying it a dog bed and a food dish and a leash, and you take it out for walkies whenever it starts to chew on the furniture. I love you, too. 

You get so used to its presence that sometimes you even forget it’s there. You’re joking around with Sam, eating sandwiches at some picnic grounds on the way to Sioux Falls for a social visit, and you say some dumb thing to him, who knows about what. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust as required by the kid brother certification board and snorts “I love you, man,” in the way that means how are you even allowed to exist, and you answer “I love you, too,” in the way that means I love you, too.

Sam has seen a lot of wild shit, but the look on his face after that is a brand new one to you. 

“Checkmate, asshole,” you say, in case he’s worried you’re gonna off yourself in the bathroom or something.

 You do get to say it, eventually. 

Like most things in life, it happens after you’ve totally given up, and then totally given up giving up, and have achieved the spiritual equivalent of that shrug emoji Claire sends you sometimes. When the phrase is well past thinking about, when the words don’t even carry any meaning anymore; they’re like the thought version of blinking, or swallowing. A background process, until something flies into your eyeball or you try to breathe a tortilla chip.

So the tortilla chip shows up one day. Don’t worry too much about the details here, just take it for granted that it either required a heroic effort of years that nearly broke you, or that he just showed up unsolicited on the porch like a copy of The Watchtower. Or maybe you’re both dead; seriously, who cares, because regardless — he’s there, and you’re there, and for awhile other people are there too, but eventually they go away. 

And it’s him, and it’s you. And if you hadn’t absolutely digested this thing in advance, if you hadn’t broken each word down into its atomic particles and cut and pasted them into your DNA so that 45th century forensic anthropologists from Mars could extract it from a fragment of the the mummified marrow of your left ass-bone, you might’ve said something else. 

You said: “I love you, too.”

You realize, in the moment after you say it, that you have reached the limits of your preparations. You’re a samurai with a single move; you’re the cannon in the 1812 Overture; your photo’s in the dictionary under one-trick pony and you’ve got frosted tips and you’re blinking. 

You say it again, and then a third time, and a lot of times after that. You keep saying it, for years, in varying degrees of franticness and horniness and happiness and honestly still-fucking-angriness and whatever else is on special that week. You say it to his face and to his dick and to his back and to the mere concept of him well after he’s left the room, left the state, left the dimension. Eventually you stop bothering to say anything else to each other. There are maybe half a million words in your native language, according to Sam, who uses them all, and with everybody else you keep on using the two hundred or so you feel confident about. 

But with Castiel, you make do with just the four.

I love you.

I love you, too.

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Part 3:

Nureyev’s stomach twisted- 

He grimaced trying to breath through it, tightening his hold on Juno.  Feeling his weight and heat against him.  The lady was a veritable furnace, but for all the proximity, Nureyev couldn't seem to get warm. 

The nausea rose again, bringing with it the knowledge he'd be sick before the night was out.  He ran a shaky hand along Juno’s spine, trying desperately to skive off the moment he’d have to stand; leave the warmth of the covers.  

“Juno you fool-” Nureyev whispered into his lady’s curls.  Even in the thralls of sleep, Juno was breathing fitfully; quick, shallow things that worried Nureyev.  His poor lady already had trouble with his lungs- not that he liked to discuss it.  For now, he’d have to keep an eye on it and hope it wouldn’t…..digress.

Another twist and Nureyev lurched to his feet.  He caught himself hard when his leg gave out- Nureyev stilled as the bile threatened to crawl up his throat.  Willing his body to cooperate; or at the very least, operate with a little more finesse-  If not for the sake of his singular audience member, then for the biting throbs of his leg.  

It was a close thing, but he made it to the washroom in time.  Emptying his stomach contents into the toilet with enough force to drive him to his knees.  

Buddy, in her wisdom, had seen fit to choose an old smuggler’s hideout as their safe house.  It was outfitted with basic amenities, a generator, and enough escape routes to be marginally comforting.  Of course, more escape routes meant more areas to watch- but he was up to the task.  Had to be.  

By the looks of the place, it hadn’t been used in some time-  Dust lay thick on every surface, settling in grimy layers on the items in the cabinets; making their footsteps stand out in stark relief on the powdered floor.  

Nureyev couldn’t decide if that was an omen.  Couldn’t decide on anything at the moment.  

When all was said and done, he was feeling rather- feeble-   His back pressed into the tiles as an aching chill crawled over his skin.  He was almost glad that Juno wasn’t awake to see him in such a state.  

And Oh- Juno-

Perhaps- if he’d been a little better , a little more diligent , then Juno wouldn’t have been hit at all-  If he’d been a little faster to the vents then they would have both been sitting vigil now, speculating about what was transpiring on the Carte Blanche.  

It was hard to shake the sensation that he was watching Juno die- again.  

Fold it away-

Scrubbing a hand over his face Nureyev returned his attention to the hideout.  The blurred world resolved itself with the return of his glasses.  This was a prime smuggling route-  The planetoid should be easily accessible, and quick to escape from.  The security seemed lax- and yet- there were cargo crates here encased in as much dust as the rest of the place.  

Nureyev stood, rinsing out his mouth and allowing himself a quick glance outside.  It was still dark and there were no discernible changes to their surroundings.  

That was something at least. 

Sure the crates could have been left here for safekeeping until the smugglers returned or a new pick up was arranged but- they looked as though they had been here for years-  It was unnerving.  Nureyev stooped, examining the surface for markings that may hint as to way was inside, but the surface was unmarked by logos or code.  

Juno was still sleeping.  If sleep was indeed what he was doing with all that twitching, it was hard to say.  Nureyev hobbled back to him and readjusted the blankets, allowing his cold fingers to slip down to the pulse point at his neck.  It took a frightful while before he could register the desperate beat.  

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.  Vespa had cautioned him to check more than his neck and wrist; to make sure there was adequate blood flow to his extremities.  He had done so on a few occasions.  It was threatening to become a nervous tick.

Sitting back Nureyev absently rubbed at the fresh injury- it was in that new wound phase of being oversensitive to even the whisper of a touch.  He’d already gone through his pockets in hope of finding something, anything- to help-  analogue lock picks, a honing stone, soup crackers still in their packaging, something that had been paper once, his automatic stitcher, a gossamer swatch of fabric, a sock- but little that could be used to make his partner more comfortable .  He gave up shortly after extracting the Carte Blanches’ TV remote, faintly registering Rita had been looking for that.

The ‘Juno Proof Black Box’ seemed fine- despite it’s impromptu dip in the polluted waters.  He gave it a few experimental prods, the screen responding with the same fervor as it had in the bank.  He shouldn’t be surprised given Juno’s propensity for spilling fluids, but it was reassuring to see it in action.  

He bit his lip, once more scanning their surroundings for possible threats.  Out here like this, he felt...exposed.  

Juno had been right to say that they were sitting ducks.  Normally, he’d be tucked away in a crawl space, waiting for his opportunity to get onboard a transport.  It was a risky venture for one, but almost impossible for two weighed down by ailments.  

There was nothing for it, they would have to stay put until their crew arrived.  

Trapped-

Nureyev shook himself, filing that thought away too.  

A distraction, that’s what he needed. 

Most of his fidgets had been ruined by the water.  Which was just as well, he’d been meaning to pick up a few more trinkets.  The crates would act as a nice substitute.  Mystery boxes that they were.  

He crossed to the nearest one, about to open it up when he heard it-  A small whining coming from the street- 

His stomach dropped, the sound was unmistakable.

A drone-

A drone?  But how?  They’d been careful hadn’t they?  They’d been safe?

But that wasn’t strictly true.  They hadn’t been careful or safe- Not in their respective conditions .

He eased his way to a window, peering through to the quiet street beyond.  And yes, there was the drone hovering just out of reach of the door.  Oh dear- it appeared to be running some sort of scan- this would have to be dealt with; and quickly.

Nureyev weighed the pros and cons of going topside to take out the drone- versus going out the back way to sneak up behind- but with his leg- could he really maintain the element of surprise?

Probably not.

He chewed on his lower lip - what to do - past experience suggested that destroying a drone would only invite disaster.  Such a brash course of action would undoubtedly draw attention they could not afford.  He had to force it away.

Nureyev gave Juno a peck on the cheek, and left a brief message informing the detective he’d return shortly. 

An earlier study of the safe house suggested there were access points in the roof.  A lofty vantage point may provide him with the leg up he needed, so to speak.  

With one last look at his lady, Nureyev hoisted himself into the ceiling tiles.  It was anything but graceful, his arms quaked with the effort to lift his body weight.  Without his usual controlled motions, he hit his injury.  A sickening ache shooting through his body, nearly paralyzing him.

He bit back a whimper, curling in on himself.  

You don’t have time for this- he reminded himself.  Even now, the drone could find them, reveal their location.  Bring reinforcements.  

Taking great care he pulled himself through the crawl space.  It was as dusty as the rest of the place, but he'd been in worse spaces.  The roof was behind another panel.  He pressed his body to it, deadening the noise of it swinging open.  The stale air of the city hit his face, washing the taste of dust out of his mouth as it sent shivers down his spine.  

He was nearly there , just a bit farther- Just a little closer-   His leg screamed against the low stealth crouch, he forced himself onward, doing his best to ignore the pain.  He trailed his fingers against the steep pitch of the roof for balance.  Fold it away, he urged himself, fold it away, fold it-  

His stomach flipped as he lost his footing on the smooth tile, nearly launching himself off the edge.  Instinctively he flattened himself, scrambling to gain purchase wherever he could manage.  The few inches he’s skidded may as well have been miles for the pounding of his heart.  Once still, Nureyev laid his hot forehead against the cool tiles.

Rule number one of thieving, he chastised himself, don’t make unnecessary mistakes.   

Heart in throat, he belly crawled until the drone below came into sight.  His vision swam.  At first he thought he’d forgotten his glasses but a quick check revealed them to be firmly on his nose where they belonged.  There was a cold sweat on his brow however- that may be the culprit.

A camera fastened in a fixed position atop the drone, four propellers holding it a loft.  That, he could work with.  The propellers were fortunate, easier to disarm than the hover models.  A plan was formulating in his head- if he could cripple one of it’s propellers, he may be able to force it to return to its base for maintenance.

Gingerly rolling onto his side, Nureyev extracted the gossamer cloth from a pocket, tearing a long strip from it.  He lowered himself from the eaves, dangling the cloth out before him like a fishing line.  Waving it back and forth, back and forth, extending the fabric out as far as his long fingers would allow until-  There!  It caught on!  He watched in satisfaction as the propellers greedily wound the material tight about it until it seized.

What he didn’t account for was the noise.  

A horrid shrill thing that escalated his headache in record time.  Cutting through him till he thought he’d be sick.  It was all he could do to push away from the edge onto the relative safety of the roof.

The drone had another parting gift, flashing lights to accompany its siren’s wale.  There was too much light, too much sound-   Nureyev was torn between shielding his eyes or protecting his ears as the drone made its drunken retreat.

 He lay there a time after the thing’s departure.  Waiting a few beats before dropping back into the smuggling den.  Quite literally, as it were-   He missed gauged his landing and ended up in a tangled heap on the floor.  He cried out as his injury was compressed. 

Another idiotic mistake that he couldn't afford to make-

Nureyev rolled over slowly- expecting to find Juno’s sharp eye trained on him, a question on his lips.  

There was nothing-  

The clumsy affair didn’t seem to disturb Juno at all and he was such a light sleeper-  Concern cut through the fog of his mind.  Juno’s face was twisted- he looked so- small; curled as he was under the blanket.  He pulled himself over, noticing the stuttering of his chest.  Oh love-  Aching fingers found their way to the lady’s neck-

 He called Vespa. 

 “This better be good Ransom-” her growl was mussed by fatigue.  

“Apologies- Y-you said to call if there’d been any-” he paused, the correct Solar term eluding him “um- alterations, to Juno’s c-condition.”

“I’m listening-”

“His b-breathing picked up, it’s erratic- and his-s pule is so f-fast.” 

“Is he awake?”

“No-”

“Hugh-” she sounded like she was thinking.  “How’s his temperature?”

Nureyev paused, his temperature- how could he forget to check?  Juno might as well have been a white hot brand against the ice of his hand- setting off the ache in his limbs- this was no good.  

It conjured a scene from one of Rita’s action streams, a ship quarantined on an asteroid belt.  Nureyev had paid it little mind at the time, save to take in the little gestures of care in the main couple.

The little thing's he'd like to try with Juno, if he got the chance-

He pressed his forehead to Juno’s, nearly losing his equilibrium in the process.  He- couldn't’ tell- Perhaps Juno was warm- then again, that could easily be himself- or- more likely both of them.

Nureyev was... compromised-

“What a p-pair we are- Love.” he said softly into his lady’s curls.   

“Ransom!” came the impatient bark. 

“I don’t know- I lack a thermal monitor- and-”

“Thermometer?”

“Yes- t-that’s what I s-said.  Point is- I c-can’t tell.”

“You can’t tell?  Damnit Ransom!” a burst of static air “You’re still chilled aren't you?” 

“I f-fail to see the relevance.”

“It’s relevant thief,” she spat with the air of one explaining something painfully obvious to a particularly obtuse child, “because you’re the one responsible for monitoring Steel.  And a lot of good you’ll do him if you pass out before we get there!”

Did she think he didn’t already know that?  That he wasn’t acutely aware of how vulnerable they were?  

“That is n-not going to-”

“And it’s relevant because I’m your doctor too.  So just answer the damned question!”

His cheeks burned as if he were admitting to some personal failing on his part.  “I c-can’t seem to get warm.”

“Figured.  Listen, we’re still a ways off, if you don’t get warm or something that’s gonna be a big problem.  Just, cover up if you can.  It will make a difference, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” 

“Understood.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and assume he’s got a fever.  You got water there right?”

“Yes.”

“Use a cold compress to keep it down.  It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.”

“And- if it does not?”

“We’ll navigate that asteroid field if we get to it.  Remember to take fluids, both of you.”

"Of course."

 Earlier investigations of the smugglers' den revealed a cabinet filled with mismatched dishware. It was from there that he fished out a grimy bowl and a few cups.  At least this would do nicely.

It was only as he washed out the bowl that he realized he should have mentioned the drones. After all, where there was one there were likely to be more.  A matter for the next check in he supposed.  

Juno stirred when Nureyev laid the cool compress over his brow.  The amber brown of his eye sliding open.  

“It’s b-been a while- Juno-” Nureyev admonished, the relief loosening the knots in his chest.  In truth, he’d been out for little more than two hours, but it felt much longer than that somehow.  

“Already with- the on’ liners-” 

“Of course dear Detective.” He leaned appreciatively into his goddess.  “I’ve had ample time to p-perfect them while Sleeping Beauty slept-”

“Oh ha-” he grimaced, shifting a little “you soun' cold-”

Leave it to Juno to get poisoned and still make time to worry about Nureyev.  

“I-It’s fine love-”

“No it’s not-” weak as his tone was, he still managed to sound petulant.  All Nureyev could do was humm and refresh the compress, taking a moment to run his fingers through the curls.  Juno’s eye fluttered shut as he shuddered “It’s bad- blaster burn-” Nureyev’s heart could break with how slurred and exhausted Juno’s words were.  Like it took effort for him to give them voice. 

“F-for now- it is alright.”

There was a whir and a clatter from the outside.  Nureyev jumped, dread seeping into his chest.  He knew without checking that the drones were back.  

“‘reyev?” Juno inquired. 

“N-not to alarm you Juno, b-but I fear we have-” again he grasped for the term “unwanted stayovers.”

“stayo-”

“Company-” Nureyev corrected, getting laboriously to his feet.  “Somehow, they know w-where to find us-”

“Our location?” Juno sounded so weak- he was painfully aware that all that stood between Juno and their pursuers was himself.  Not the most reassuring line of defense at present.

He pressed the black box into Juno’s hand “Keep yourself hidden love.” and flung the canvas over the top of him before he could protest.  It was a mediocre disguise, but hopefully better than nothing at all.  “I’ll return momentarily.”

He hoped for once, that the Detective would take him at his word and would leave this to him.  

Nureyev peered out a window, counting five, maybe six drones.  There was no way he could face them all at once.  What was more, the trick he used last time would not due here.  

“Nu-reyev-” Juno was struggling to disentangle himself from the canvas.  The thief sent up a silent wish for strength. 

“Love, please- trust me.  I will be back.”  He applied pressure to where he thought Juno’s shoulder may be and the man stilled.  “I’ll always come back to you.”

“Promise?”

“Of Course.  Please love, be still.”  

Just like that, he slipped out the back door, nearly colliding with a previously unseen drone sussing out the perimeter.  Instinctively he jerked the plasma blade up, cleaving the machine in two and grazing a few knuckles in the process.  A shrill chirping emanated from the damaged thing, mirroring the earlier sound of the homebound drone.   Nureyev stooped and cut again, this time more surgically, severing the speaker's connection.  

He knew destroying the thing would only result in more trouble, but that would be for future consideration.  

More drones rounded the corner.  Taking a small moment, Nureyev steeled himself against the burning of his leg, before launching himself forwards into the fray.

A second wave of adrenaline carried him through the first moments of grinding metal and flashes of light.  Luckily, these drones appeared to be more civilian in nature.  Modified to be sure, a few started to produce clumsy blasters from their bodies, but civilian.  Not surprising since most outer rim governments annexed military grade equipment.  Even the wealthiest of companies had yet to recoup the loss. 

He took careful aim at those damned speakers, having no desire to experience a sensory overload in the thralls of a fight.  Hoping against hope that he didn’t damage their Universal Positioning Device.  

His lungs burned and his arms became leaden under the weight of motion, but still he went on.  Forcing himself to dance on one good leg.  Lean left, faint right, upper cut here and- he stumbled, just catching himself on an adjacent wall and rolling out of the way of a drone stunner.  Carving a molten streak down the center of another machine before it too could line up a shot.  

Another drone fell to friendly fire.    

That made five, maybe six by now?  There were more than he'd thought.  

His cheek got clipped by propeller blades, he jerked back in surprise losing his balance- his leg caved, colliding hard with some rubbish bins.  He couldn’t help the piteous cry that was torn from his lips, or the way the world spun around.  He tried to pull himself out, keep moving but slipped and fell back again.  

The remainder of the drones closed in, small blasters sliding out of their metal bodies with mechanical whirs.  He raised his knife, trying to take aim against the whir of color. 

He could hear the laser’s warming up, and knew, this time, there wouldn't be time to disappear. 

[sarah--goff]

T.D.M: Chapter 15: Absolution

You wake unexpectedly in the height of the afternoon.

When you slit an eye open, you let your surroundings sink in, your whole body felt like it was lined with lead, you couldn’t so much as shift your arms. It takes a lot of strength to turn to lay on your side with your legs tucked underneath you. When you manage the fetal position, you’re dripping with sweat and panting slightly.

You feel as though all you really want to do is sleep, you could sleep forever and ever right now you need rest.

You close your eyes again grimacing at the pain of doing so as well as the stabbing pain above your eyebrow. You briefly wondered what the hell had happened to you to cause it when everything hit you like a bolt of lightning.

You can’t move. You can’t breathe. Your chest feels tight. You don’t know what to do.

The whole world comes crashing down.  The 13 hours were long since up. You’d lost.

You’d lost.

“I’ll give you a challenge: a chance to win back your freedom-if you wish. If you complete my task, you’re free to go. But if you lose, you stay with me- in my castle. Forever” .

You start to cry, softly at first and then loudly sobbing and hate yourself for it. Don’t give him the satisfaction you pleaded but the tears wouldn’t stop.

You could never go back to home, never see your friends, never walk home after a long day at school in the summer evenings, never slope off to the empty park grounds to sit by the green ponds whenever you felt like it, never see your only remaining family, never sit in your tiny freezing bedroom , drawing idly with the blankets huddled around you, cursing Kari for making you do the dishes, cursing your life, wishing to leave…

You’d sold yourself out. How stupid could you have been to think you could have won the Labyrinth?

You had no-one to blame but yourself for this mess, you should have known better, right from the start that the Labyrinth would be rigged against you. He’d done everything in his power to slow you down from the start; the overturned stone, the changing Labyrinth walls, the Riddler Guards, his little distractions, the disguise, the Goblin King was so desperate to stop you from winning. Well now he had, he’d won.

And Hoggle! You felt deeply cut by his betrayal, above all else, the Goblin King was the villain you could excuse his deceit, but Hoggle?  How could he have been so cruel to lead you astray twice?

You lie there alone in the bedroom, weeping helplessly on your back, tears rolling down your cheeks, unable to wipe them away or hide the pathetic sob noises you were making. You cried harder, shoulders juddering at every sob.

“I was going to win” you cry hoarsely aloud to make up for the frustrating paralysis “I was going to win ”

The blue coat swings on the peg of the door as it creaks open, with a gloved hand appearing around the frame of it.

“You’re awake I see” Jareth’s voice slices through your buzzing thoughts like a hot knife in butter.

He closes the door behind him, mumbling something in another language at it with a raise hand before turning to you. The sun’s rays burst through the window dancing on the flagstone floor.

You suck your breath in sharply. The game was over. What was he going to do now? Torture you, humiliate you, make you his little jester-play thing when he got bored? It didn’t matter, you were here now. ‘Forever’.

The Goblin King shrugged off his own leather, pegging it over the blue cloak then pulled out a stool you hadn’t noticed by your bed, sitting at it, so he was level with you.

He noticed your silence, resting his forearms on his knees as he leaned in “Oh come, come, come now, Sloane, why so much haughtiness and dread? Where is that adventurous little thing who braved every crevice of my labyrinth? I thought you’d be more than glad to be away from it”

Was he really that oblivious? Or psychotic? Or maybe he just assumed you’d forgotten all about the Oubliette episode, haughtiness and dread didn’t even sum up what you were feeling now he had you right where he wanted you. You can feel your thudding pulse in your eye sockets and in your legs.

You said nothing, not even meeting his eyes. You chose to stare straight ahead instead, at the tapestry on the wall, willing yourself not to cry again.

He raised his hand holding a crystal, purple and glowing and you flinch at the sudden movement.

“You stay away from me” you yelp finally finding your voice, edging away from the hand paused over you. “You and your fucking magic”.

He closed the hand with an exhale, evading the light from his palm “you need your healing today, you’ll grow weak without it” he said matter-of-factly.

“Bullshit” you breathe through the rising lump in your throat, you ball the rich quilt you’re lying under in your hands, “you just want keep me this-s way, weak and help-helpless”.

“I would never hurt you” he put his hand over your balled fist and you manage to jerk it away though it feels so weighted down. “My rose-“

“Don’t fucking touch me” you hiss out.

The whole room was spinning, you have to close your eyes, you feel like you’re drunk.  “Why do I feel… so heavy?” you turn your head to face him, with narrowed eyes “you’ve done something to me. Druh-drugged me or something”.

Jareth puts the damp cloth in the wash bowl with some leaves floating in it, then extracted it, squeezing the water from it carefully. You watch it run, the trickling noises against the stillness giving you goose-bumps.

“It’s your mortal body reacting to the magic exposure,” he said flatly “it can’t possibly handle it all at once, so it must be fed more in small doses to balance it out” he pushes the little hairs falling in front of your face out of the way to put the clothe to your forehead, holding your arm down at your twisting protests. “It’ll adapt in time”.

In time.

A surging heat passes through your stomach. You squeeze your eyes shut at the pain “oww ughhh ” you curl up clutching yourself “you’ve done this to me” you say, sliding your accusing eyes to him, “you ”

He pauses the dabbing on your forehead to meet your eyes.

“I did not plan for things to go this way. Believe me”.

That meaningful look, so cruel and so kind. You flicker to the ballroom where you had been under the same look.

You turn away to cross your arms over your aching stomach.

“Oh no?” you gasp through clenched teeth “but you’re happy now aren’t you? Satisfied with yourself, you got your own way event- eventually” you cursed yourself at the rising lump in your throat “but me? What did I get? A one -way ticket to servitude. Slap on the shackles now”.

“I don't care for your tone,” Jareth's demeanour becomes more callous, throwing down the clothe in the bowl and putting a hand on his hip “everything I’ve done, ever since we met, I’ve done for you.”

The sky had become overcast and you shivered in the chill of the absent sun.

You scoffed looking at him over your shoulder “keep telling yourself that, it doesn’t change the facts” .

Jareth stood sharply so the stool screeched backwards against the floor. “The ‘facts’?” He spat standing at the foot of the bed for you to look at him properly.

“You want to know the facts? My ‘gift’ to you Sloane, was exactly that. A gift, to repay you. A way out, a way to make sure you could live happily ever after by binding you to fae rules, which I bent for you” he hissed “the facts are, that I gave you thrilling adventure away from your tedious life, gave you gorgeous dreams, made you smile, made you laugh, even given you a place in my kingdom. You chose to ignore what you dislike, what doesn’t fit into this villainous character you’ve warped me into. I have been generous- but I can be cruel”.

“Generous!” you sat up straight, refusing to wince at the pain of the fluid movement “You arrogant prick! What have you done that’s generous?”

“Everything!” he snapped throwing his arms up. “Everything you wanted I have done! You wanted someone to listen? I did. You wished to be “taken away”? I took you. I have re-ordered time-”

Jareth gestured to the grand clock on the wall - like the one you’d seen in the outskirts when you first started the Labyrinth- spinning its thin black hands backwards and then forwards wildly around the face.

“-to ease your hardships in my Labyrinth, a challenge you wanted to enter -and I let you- I have turned the world upside down and I have done it all for you. I’m exhausted from living up to your expectations” he frowned with a defeated sigh “Isn’t that generous?”

You pressed your mouth in a straight line for a while but then a tear brimmed daringly in your eye.

“You tricked me into trusting you, you threatened my freewill -giving me no choice but to run in the Labyrinth then you brought me here, to this bloody place, and I didn’t ask, then you try to scare me into submission when things weren’t going your sodding way” you tick off with as much venom as you can put in a hushed whisper “and it’s not okay. It just isn’t”

He stares you out for a time and you glare back at him. He opened his mouth to say something when you bent double, thudding back against the pillows, writhing in pain “aughhhh”.

The wind outside rose, you could hear the tree by the window drop all its leaves in the abrupt uproar.

He’s by you side in a flash.

“Here, let me” Jareth opened his palm, purple light flooding from it. You nodded frantically, squeezing your eyes shut, forgetting your pride in the burning of your ribs.

He knelt before you, gesturing to you to move your shirt up so he could lay his hand on your skin.

You shivered at the contact but then hissed as it seeped through.

“Gahh !” you clutched his forearm, fingers digging into his clothing and clenching your teeth together. You bit back the tears, writhing in pain. “It’ll be over in a moment” Jareth said gently to soothe you in the pain, you grasped the material harder.

You don’t want to look at the light flooding into your skin and stare down at him instead while he works. From up close you notice only now that he’s wearing more make-up than usual, it’s sharper, darker, his hair looked fluffier, little silver bits among the blonde shining in the purple glow. He’s even dressed up a little. Your heart skips a beat. For me?

“All done” Jareth finishes up, catching you staring at him. You forget that your hand is now relaxed on his forearm and his palm on your rib-cage. The Goblin King’s eyes flicker down to where you’re absentmindedly rubbing the pad of your thumb across his shoulder.

You remove your clutch on him immediately, heat radiating from your face. “It…feels better. The pain’s gone completely” you cough.

The burning sensation disappears from your sides like a weight lifting from your shoulders. You can push back the quilts and sit up properly against the pillows without wincing and then swing your legs over the bed.

You stare at the flagstone floor.

For a moment, nobody says anything. What else is there to be said?

“Your run in my Labyrinth might be over,” Jareth broke the silence, in a tone bordering on grave.

He slipped both of his hands over your own “however, you and I, Sloane Hazel, we're far from finished,”

You blankly stare down at the large hands cupping your own, but you don’t yank them away.

It’s wrong, it’s very wrong to feel wanting. No, you hadn’t forgotten the chemistry in the ballroom, dream or no dream, you'd been so comfortable and you both knew it. Your tell-tale spiked pulse said everything.

Your mouth parts and closes as if to say something but you remain silent. The memories of your first introduction creep into mind.

“Do you want it?” he held it out for you to take. “You’re unhappy here. But I could make you happy” he said it almost in a whisper.

He held out his hand earnestly for you to take “come, leave your little cell of room behind, leave your dreadful family and just run away from it all”.

Why did a traitorous tiny part of you get a dark thrill over the fact that he might have genuinely wanted to steal you away to keep you right from the start? Your stomach flutter at the possibility that his offer might have been selfless, no underlying cruelty? That he wanted you for you, not just something to control?

You glance at Jareth’s face, clearly reading your own. You wait for him to irritably sigh or retreat like he had done before but instead he watched the cogs in your mind turn patiently. All traces of his earlier smug taunting had completely dried-up.

“I know” you said eventually “…I know I lost the challenge . And… I suppose you only did the right thing, bringing me here…” you gestured flatly to the room, and your healed side. “A deal is a deal” you admit as much as it pains your heart, accepting the gravity of the situation that you were stuck in.

Jareth gave away nothing in his expression “go on” he said curiously.

“If I’m bound to stay here I…I think we should set a few things straight” yes. okay. good. Ground rules.

“You mean you have requests?” Jareth stated rather than questioned in a monotonous voice, he folded his arms, awaiting you to continue.

“Well, yes…Maybe given the circumstances…” you said sternly

“I believe I’ve been more than fair to you” he said coldly and for a minute you think he’ll straight-up rebuke you, but instead his expression changes suddenly. He held his chin with his propped hand, mulling something over and continued.

“but, never let it be said I ever refused Ms Sloane Hazel” Jareth exhaled. “I’ll humour you, if you humour me”.

Fuck.

Ah, see what you’ve done? Now doesn’t this scene sound all too familiar?

The voice in your head derided you,

and what did Hoggle warn you about? Shady deals?

You tried not to swallow and give away your doubts, you toy with the red quilt between your fingers when an idea comes to you.

“How about…quid pro quo?”

He smiled wide so you could see those feline teeth “now there’s the Sloane Hazel I was waiting for. My dear, I believe I’m beginning to rub off on you”.

You shrugged like it was no big deal “then we both get what we want” please say yes, please say yes.

“Quid pro quo it is” there was a daring twinkle in his eye. “Go on, go on, I’m all ears”

Stay humble you warned yourself. Tit-for-tat goes both ways.

“First off, no more tricks to get me onside like you did in the Labyrinth, no playing glamour dress up to fuck with me”

“But of course, I need not to now”

You glared at him pointedly.

“It was brilliant though wasn’t it? My performance sterling” Jareth jovially tossed a crystal in the air and when he caught it, you found yourself staring back at Sage, the mysterious, kind, peasant woman who fed you.

“a rose, for a rose?” Jareth croaked in her voice.

He fluttered the crystal in his hands until his withered finger-tips held a yellow rose out to you, but you flicked it away.

“cut it out Jareth,” you said meeting his gaze under the green shawl, the warmth in her smile had vanished and instead sliced through you “it’s creepy”.

Sage- Jareth- gave a withered smile before transforming back in front of your very eyes.

“I thought that was you, you know” you frown, not the least bit surprised that the only person kind enough to you for more than five minutes in that Labyrinth was a rotten glamour trick. “And no more magic drugging. No magic against me in any way, shape, or form, I’m serious” you sniffed. "The soup wasn’t great either by the way- I was just hungry”.

Jareth laughed at that returning to his own rich regal voice.

“Very well, you have my word, no ‘magic drugging’ as you put it. Which brings me onto my request; you will accompany me for meals, morning, noon and night, regardless”.

You raised an eyebrow a strange request “done” but it was harmless you supposed.

“Now that I’m here, I want to see the Underground, properly” you gestured to the small turret room, already the walls were beginning to cave in “I won’t be held in here, it’ll drive me nuts”.

“that can be arranged” he nodded “you’re not my prisoner, Sloane, I fully intend for you to see my land for all it is” he said proudly “you may go wherever your curious heart desires in my kingdom, but the outskirts and the labyrinth itself are strictly out of bounds. That’s part of the deal.”

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up to silence you.

“My kingdom, my rules” Jareth sang.  “I know the Labyrinth better than anyone, it submits to me only, it’s not somewhere for strolling. No contentions”

“Whatever, I’m not in a hurry to go back any time soon” you nodded with a shiver, it would take something extreme to get you back in there.

You cross your legs underneath you on the bed putting your hands in your lap.  “I wish for at least some privacy, to write and draw, like I used to in my… old room,” you explained looking down at your hands “it would be nice to still do normal things”

Jareth folded his arms across his chest, sticking his hands under his armpits, “of course” he scoffed “you really think I would restrain my favourite artist?” you smiled back at him at that, shaking your head with a blush.

“Furthermore, on the subject of kingdoms, I am your king now and you will treat and respect me as such, like every other citizen, regardless of our association,” he smiled shrewdly.

Oh, he was beginning to enjoy this, you could tell.  

“you live in my kingdom now, in my castle, under me, your sovereign. The ways of the Above do not concern me”

You frown “under you?”  

He waved dismissively, “I only require what every other monarch would require of their citizens. Please continue, my rose,” The Goblin King inclined his head in a slight, inviting bow.

You licked your dry top lip quickly “I get to see my family”

“No dice I’m afraid”

“What? Why!”

“As I explained to you, you belong to the Underground now, the Above does not concern me, besides, the deal was that you lose and you stay forever, if you remember correctly”

“I …” you let that sink in you should have been paying attention to his wording before you agreed to that stupid challenge. You would never see your aunt and uncle again. Ever.

“My friends?” you suddenly remembered you looked to him hopefully.

He shook his head “Same rules apply. The Above is forbidden”

You held back the strangled gasp. Kari and Brian were family, your mother’s blood, no less, but your life- long friends, Jan, the people you’d practically grown up with. Poof. What would they think happened to you? That you ran away? That you were kidnapped? They would never know.  

“You can’t just expect me to leave everything behind!” you stutter. The reality was very much settling within you. “Like I didn’t have a whole life there!”

You felt like you were going to throw up suddenly. Your stomach heaved dangerously.

Jareth only tilted his head in reply. An act that said “you should have thought about that before you were willing to put that on the table”.

“There will be far too many questions. Believe me it’s for the best.”

“I don’t understand! What do you mean!”

“Your time in the Underground is turning you , I already explained that your mortality was being balanced out with magic” Jareth picked his words carefully

“the exposure, will slowly begin to change your mortal being,” his tone became serious “ you’re part magic now at least, like me, you’ll remain very much the same as you are now, it would be difficult to hide it from your acquaintances as time goes, even with glamour magic” .

“I don’t believe you” you reply tartly. “That’s impossible” but your mind was racing already.

“Nothing’s impossible. You’d think you’d come to realise that by now” he gave that Cheshire cat’s grin.

He was right. Any manner of questioning possibility was ruled out the second you stepped foot in the Underground. Another thought crossed your mind

“wait, how old are you ?” you’d completely forgotten that he wasn’t human, another worldly being…That you would come to be too?

The Goblin King grinned cupping his chin “how old do you think?”

“I don’t know…around... forty”  you offered generously with a vague wave of your hand.

He threw back his head and laughed and you glare at him. “Well that’s how old you look!” you protested “well go on then, tell me”.

“Why? Afraid I might be too refined for your taste?” he winked suggestively

You shoved his shoulder “I was thinking more ‘cradle snatcher’ ”

The Goblin King’s eyes danced in amusement “more than you know”

“and yet you’re still the biggest child I’ve ever met”

“Ah, the biggest child you’ve met so far”

“You’re a smart-arse, bleach blonde, prick, you know that?” you found yourself smiling.

“You wound, sweet” he said in mock-annoyance, he pretended to ruffle his hair airily “this is all natural Ms Hazel”.  Of course that’s what he’d pick up on.

“If you say so. Okay, so we have a deal then?”

“You have my word on all counts,” Jareth gave a short nod

“Me too” you stuck out you hand to shake on it but pushed it away with shaking his head amusedly.

“Don’t you know every deal must be sealed properly?”

“How?”

Jareth whisked his hand and a feathered quill and sheet of paper popped onto the writing table at the far end of the room. “The good old-fashioned way of course, a contract”

You pushed yourself off the bed to spot the long white scroll on the table, the calligraphy golden. You could see the small print at the bottom besides where each of you would sign.

“Well of course I knew that” you said huffily “Can I have a –“

“Here” he pushed the magnifying glass into your open hand before you had even asked for it.

“How did you know I was going to say that?”

“You’re a sharp girl, you’d want to read the small print. Of course, there’s really no need since I would never try and pull the wool over your eyes, my sweet” he blinked feigning innocence but oh boy, did you know better.

“Hmmm” you said plucking up the paper anyway to read it. You read it all thoroughly, as well as the actual details itself, everything you had both agreed on was there.

“Yep it’s all there” you held out your hand for the quill and scratched a messy “Sloane L. Hazel” across the black line, hoping to god this wouldn’t come back to bite you. The quill’s black ink bled into the paper drying out and turning gold. Inerasable.

“Hey!” you snapped when you’d finished, realising he’d been standing behind you staring at your arse while you had slightly bent over the desk. “Merely admiring the view” he chuckled at your sour expression, throwing the quill at him.

Jareth slowly and meanderingly leaned over the table, free palm resting on the wood flatly. You notice a marking on his hand beginning from his index finger and disappearing under his cuff's sleeve.

He'd signed it “The Goblin King of the Underground” alongside yours in large swirling loops which you rolled your eyes at but couldn’t help admiring the hair falling over his face before he stood tall again.

“Sloane L. Hazel” Jareth bobbed an eyebrow, reading your signature aloud “how very professional, what’s the L for I wonder?”

“L is for Lux- like a short way of saying ‘Lucky’ ” you shrug at his puzzled face.

“Lux” he repeated sardonically. “How tasteful”.

“My parents lapped up unusual names” you explain “before they knew they were having a girl, they agreed that my mum would pick the name if I was a girl, my dad a boy, so when they had me, my mum said she chose the name from one of her favourite books and my dad got to pick my middle name since the one he was going to pick was unisex.”

You smiled fondly remembering your dad telling you the story behind your strange name when you were younger. You had been in the kitchen making some god-awful muffins together for a change and set the smoke alarm off, Jeremy couldn’t cook for toffee.

“My dad told me it’s because they were very “lucky” to have me in their life, like ‘thanking their lucky stars’ or something but then my mum told me it was after the name of this bar they met in and he threw some flour at her”.

You laughed, remembering clearly the look of horror on your mother’s face as her entire outfit was splattered with the white powder and for a second your father had looked genuinely terrified of his wife until she had thrown some back at him, right in his face, and then he at you for laughing at the pair of them in the ridiculous scene, within minutes the kitchen was a winter wonderland. All three of you had rolled on the kitchen floor in the snow of the flour, coughing and spluttering- your parents tickling you until you thought you were going to burst. It was one of your happiest memories of them.

You were grinning brightly from ear to ear and staring off into the distance. You blinked rapidly coming back. You noticed Jareth had been listening intently and gave an embarrassed shrug.

It was strange telling the Goblin King about your parents when you rarely spoke about them to anyone. He already knew so much about you when you knew very little of him.

“They sounded wonderful” Jareth said softly with a small smile and you nodded in agreement

“They were. I was lucky to have them ” you swiftly changed the subject, “is this it then?” you nodded at the signatures.

“One more thing, now we each must knock on the wood”

“What?” you tilt your head “you’re having me on”

“Nonsense, you Abovelers say it all the time,” he tilted his head “don’t you know the meaning behind it?”  Jareth rapped on the table to emphasise “It’s the only way to properly seal the deal”.

You hum, also knocking on the dark wood feeling silly. Your hand burnt like a flame had been held to it “ow!” you snatched it back, holding your burning wrist “what was that !”

He took your wrist, inspecting it curiously. “It’s the contract, as a reminder, look” twisting it over to show you the marking that had been etched on your skin.

“its sealed on your wrist to provide proof of the oath you knocked on- binding you to the contract” the strange marking was like a white tattoo, in the shape of a circular Labyrinth and an owl taking flight .

“The royal seal no less” he noted, inspecting his own wrist where the same seal was placed.

You took it back, rubbing the soreness. “Will it be there forever?”

“Most likely” he nodded. It was only tiny anyway.

You rolled your sleeve back down. “You mean you’ve never done this before?”

“Not personally no,”

“Then…What happens if either of us …break it?” your heart dropped at the thought. This was magic. There would be consequences surely.

Jareth gave a hapless shrug.

“You don’t know” you said drily in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say beforehand! What am I suppose to do now?”

“I suggest you be a good girl then” he grinned.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you- you’re bound to break it” you put your hands behind your head and exhaled to let off steam idiot!

“Ye have little faith, Ms L. Hazel, I may surprise you yet” he scoffed

“Wait, there’s something else” you say, rubbing your temple one thing at a time, the thought bubbling in you before you forgot about it again.

“What? Don’t tell me you forgot to add something after that entire bloody ritual”

“No no, not about the contract- I mean, I want an explanation”

Jareth cocks his head quizzingly

“About all this, about you. I think I deserve an explanation. More than that actually” you stifled an abrupt yawn.

He smiled, “Very well, I’ll tell all tomorrow, deal?”

“Why not now” you pushed, eager for answers while he was still in the talking mood.

Another yawn hit you like a wave, you found yourself forcing your eyes open. How can you be tired already you’ve only just woken up. Bloody magic. “I’m all ears”.

He smiled ruefully, “You’re much too tired, besides I’ll want your full attention, you have a big day ahead you, so I suggest you get a good night’s rest” you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.

“tomorrow, I promise ” he rose and moved to the door,

“Jareth?” you called before he disappeared .

“Yes?” he lingered by the door looking at you expectantly.

“Maybe you’re not a bleach blond”

He smiled and nodded, wishing you a goodnight before disappearing, you heard the sound of a crystal ball rolling across the floor on the other side of the door.

Good night?  Yeah fat chance of that. How were you supposed to sleep now?

Nevertheless, you climb into bed, the first day of the rest of your life was over. It can only get better from here, you assured yourself. Not like you just signed away your life for real or that you were half magic or something or another. It was also so confusing. Sleep was probably the best solution.

You inspect your wrist and then drop it to stare up at the four poster’s ceiling. What have I done?  You'd never imagine you go in this deep.

_*_

In his hands, Jareth clutched the silly beggar disguise he used to hamper your progress, one final disguise. He exhaled air from his nose, amused over it, “hmmf” . It seemed so silly now.

He tucked it away in a trunk at the foot of the bed, it would be a while before he would use it again unless another one of those brat runners called upon him, wasting more of his time, still though it could be fun sometimes to watch their confusion.

He climbed into bed but found himself unable to sleep instantly, instead tracing the seal mark absent-mindedly on his wrist.

[alleiradayne]

Rocket Queen

Summary: Sam, Gabriel, and Natalie find themselves stranded in a hunter’s cabin after a severe snowstorm and sub-zero temperatures. Square Filled: Cock warming Warnings/Tags: Fluff, anger, threat of dying, smut, double penetration, fluids, subtle wing kink, cock warming, threesome, polyamory Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester/Gabriel/Natalie Murphy Word Count: 3,786 A/N:  For @spnkinkbingo. Yeah I sorta ship Sabriel a bit. Song: Rocket Queen by Guns N’ Roses

Natalie shivered with chattering teeth as she sat by the tiny fire stove, three blankets draped over her shoulders and fully dressed in her hat, boots, gloves, and winter coat. The hunter’s cabin had lost power four hours earlier. And it had taken the three of them that long to dry out enough wood for a fire. A small fire, at that, so tiny in the little stove it hardly heated a three-foot space around it.

The forecast had completely missed the storm. Sub-zero temperatures had settled in after three feet of snow had dumped on their hideout, and at mid-day, the power had gone out. Sam had controlled his panic in every way but for his pacing. And Gabriel left little to the imagination.

“Welp, I gotta say, this really sucks for you guys.”

Natalie rolled her eyes so hard, she felt they might fall out of her head. “You could help. Heat the house or… I don’t know, teleport us out of here?”

“You know I can’t do any of that right now,” Gabriel drawled, “no grace left for a good long while thanks to Mr. Genius’s need to rescue everyone,” he added as he jammed his thumb at Sam. “Not like I can teleport anywhere near this place, anyhow.”

They would never hear the end of that. “Why not?” Sam asked with an exasperated sigh.

Gabriel shook his head again. “Of course, neither of you noticed, it’s not crawling all over your wings,” he said as he climbed from his chair. “Twenty square miles of runes carved into these woods keep angels from teleporting in or out. And I am not exactly a professional woodsman, so I’m not about to guide anyone on foot, either.”

Natalie slumped into her lap, dejected. “Why isn't there a back-up generator? Or solar panels?”

Sam’s flat stare chastised her better than his words ever did.

“Sorry, jeez, I was just asking,” she mumbled under breath.

“The stove will eventually warm the house up,” Sam started, whether to reassure her or himself, Natalie was unsure. “It just might take a few hours.”

She looked from Sam to Gabriel, then back. “What should we do until then? It's fucking freezing in here.”

Sam hugged himself, layered in his coat, gloves, and hat the same as she. “I don't know,” he stuttered through chattering teeth. “I mean, we eventually need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “except we risk passing out with how cold it is. We should dig the truck out and try to leave.”

“The entire trail is covered in snow,” Gabriel reminded them with a flip of his hand. He wore no gloves or hat, not even a coat. His white shirt shone bright, stark against his black slacks and dress shoes.

“What… are you the angel of negativity today?” Natalie retorted. “Seriously, unless you’re coming up with ideas to help, shut your yap.”

No one spoke for several minutes as Natalie yanked the blanket tighter around her shoulders and curled in closer to the stove. Sam continued to pace in the middle of the cabin, but when he spotted Gabriel’s inquisitive smirk, he eyed him with a sideways stare.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked with a cautious air.

With a shrug and a quirk of his brow, Gabriel said, “This… is gonna sound awful. But I’ve got an idea.”

Numb fingertips tingled under the heat of her breath as Natalie tried to warm her hands in her gloves. Another glance between Gabriel and Sam settled her stare on the floor between them both. Silent seconds ticked by, each one longer than the last, until sudden understanding rent a gasp from her throat.

“No, Gabe,” she stated. “No way.”

“Look, guys, I'm just trying to come up with something,” he said as he raised his hands. “I don't need to keep warm. I'm fine. It's you two that are in big trouble here, and it's the only way I can help.”

When Natalie looked to Sam, she found his knotted brow and intense hazel stare. “What?”

“Body warmth,” Natalie stated. “He wants us to share body warmth.”

For a moment, Sam glared first Gabriel, then herself. But then he shrugged and crossed the room to sit beside Natalie near the stove. “He’s not wrong,” he said as he sat beside her. “Here, toss those blankets over me—”

“Ah, that's… not what I meant,” Gabriel interrupted. “Eventually, like Nat said, you two will need to get some sleep. The bed is,” he paused as he regarded the bed on the far side of the cabin, “way the fuck over there.”

“So?” Sam asked as he sidled in close and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. When Natalie tossed the blanket over him, he pulled it closed in front of her. “We’ll warm up here, then head to bed when we’re comfortable.”

“Uh, yeah, and then freeze to death,” Gabriel stated. “You need my help.”

“What?” Sam gaped.

Natalie scratched the back of her head. “Really had to spell it out for you, huh?”

“Sh,” Sam hissed, “And, no. There’s no way all three of us will fit in that bed anyway.”

“We would if we were huddled really close for warmth,” Gabriel insisted. “I don't want the two of you to get hurt. I'm just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and it's encroaching on something personal, Gabe. You and I are one thing, but Natalie and I are… look it's just not gonna happen.”

The sting in Natalie’s cheeks radiated across her nose. “Are you… being possessive of me, Sam?”

“No,” Sam spat.

She looked to Gabriel, surprise coloring her tone. “Are you being possessive of Gabe?”

“What?” Sam stammered. “No, I have…” he fell silent as he looked between the two of them, his face growing redder by the second.

“Sam, what’s--” Natalie began as she slipped a hand over his thigh. Despite all the layers between them, Sam shuddered as she found the source of his frustration. When she looked him in the eye, his wordless plea screamed for help.

Holy shit.

“Gabe?” Natalie chimed as she turned to him.

“Yes, Natalie?” Gabriel sang.

“Would you like to share the bed with us?” she asked.

He grinned at that. “I would enjoy that.”

When she turned back to Sam, she found his embarrassed face, cheeks and eyes and nose so pink. “Would you mind if Gabriel shared the bed with us?”

Sam’s hazel glare flicked to Gabriel, who raised a brow and quirked half a smile on his pretty lips, then looked back to her. “Only if you’re okay with it”

Of course, he would defer to her. “That’s not what I’m asking, Sam. I want to know if you would mind your archangel boyfriend cuddling all close to your girlfriend.”

“I…” Sam started but fell silent. At his feet he stared for several seconds before he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Gabriel asked. “You’ve wanted to do that? Is that what I heard?”

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed as he stood, blanket thrown from his shoulders, but his anger fled the moment it flared. “I’ve wanted to ask. For a while now. I just… I was scared. I don’t even know how--”

Oh, Christ. “It’s called a threesome, Samwise, and I’m sad you didn’t ask sooner,” Natalie stated.

“What?”

Their confusion echoed in the tiny cabin, both men gaping at Natalie as if she had cursed them. “Seriously? Neither of you thought I might want in on your… whatever it is?”

Sam blushed whenever Natalie said anything remotely close to an innuendo. But Gabriel? She had never seen even a hint of pink on his cheeks. In fact, he flirted with her endlessly, but she thought he had only intended to tease her. And maybe get a rise out of Sam in the process. When she recalled those embarrassing moments, they began to make sense, examined under a new light. Gabriel had wanted the same thing. And so, he, too, blushed a shade of red to match Sam.

When she stood and walked to the bed, both men watched, unmoving. “You know,” she started, “if we boil some snow down in the stove and fill up our water bottles, we could put them in the bed, too. That'll help.”

Gabriel looked to Sam as he asked, “May I?” with a tilt of his head toward Natalie.

Sam returned to his seat by the stove, and rested his chin in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. “Sure,” he mused, “But you better ask her first. Sure as hell isn’t my place to give permission.”

A shiver ran down her spine as Gabriel's less than angelic smirk crooked his lips. Son of a bitch. An angel. She was about to fuck an angel. Not just any angel, but an archangel. Gabriel crossed the space between them in two steps, and without warning, enveloped her with arms and wings as his lips pressed to hers.

Everything about him contrasted to Sam. While Gabriel still towered over her, he was nowhere near as tall as Sam. And good lord, his wings. She had not considered those, forgotten until they shielded her from the world, warm and softer than sin. Feathers on her cheek rushed a wave of arousal between her thighs, knees week with want, and the tension in her back eased in his warm embrace.

But then the cold returned as gloved hands parted Gabriel’s wings. Sam pressed in behind her, and when she pulled back from the angel, he said, “Not very fun for me if I can’t see what’s going on.”

Again, Gabriel smirked. “I figured that would get you off your ass,” he said. “Now, what do we do with her?”

“Natalie?” Sam whispered into her ear, his hands roaming to her hips.

“S-Sam?” she stuttered, her hands buried in Gabriel’s hair.

“What would you like to do?” he asked.

The heat of his breath on her skin extracted a moan from her as she said, “I want you both.”

Sam kicked his boots aside as he unbuttoned her pants. “At the same time?”

She could hardly keep up. “Yes,” she sighed into Gabriel’s lips. “Just like this.”

Gabriel groaned as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, released with a lewd pop. “Damn, Natalie,” he muttered, “I always wondered what it was you and Sam did for fun. Never thought this would be on your list.”

“Gabe?”

“Yes?”

Natalie shoved him to the bed. “Shut up and strip.”

Without another word, Gabriel did as she ordered, first his shirt as his boots thumped to the floor. When he tried to remove his pants, Natalie batted his hands away and slipped her fingers in at the waist.

“You humans and your control,” Gabriel jested with a wink.

Sam snorted from behind her. “You better let her have it, or she’ll take it from you.”

“Is that so?” he asked as he wriggled from his pants and she pulled, the hard length of his cock laying against his stomach. “I might want to see that.”

“You might if you keep at it,” Sam jested as he wrenched her pants down to her ankles, the freezing cold air of the cabin shocking her skin in a wave of gooseflesh. With her back arched, she rolled her hips to give Sam a perfect view of her sopping cunt, and he moaned. “Ready and willing, as always.”

“Of course,” she cooed as she grabbed Gabriel’s cock at the base. With a coy smirk, she winked at him. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint your boyfriend.”

Sam hummed in approval as his firm grasp spread her, and the warmth of his tongue enveloped her flesh. She angled the tip of Gabriel’s cock to her mouth, and another moan fell from her parted lips as Gabriel squirmed beneath her. “Suck it,” he hissed, “quit teasing me.”

Between Gabriel’s insistent words, his throbbing cock in her hand, and Sam’s expert tongue, Natalie wondered if she were dreaming. As she reached with her tongue, the sharp salt of Gabriel’s skin consumed her senses. But what truly floored her was the moment she sealed her lips around the swollen head and Gabriel whimpered. Not a desperate moan or a pleased sigh or an anxious groan. No, Gabriel damn near wept as Natalie sucked him into the back of her throat.

A surprised moan of her own hummed through her nose, and Sam must have understood, for he spoke. “Gabe’s a sucker for a good blowjob.”

Natalie withdrew him from her mouth and said, “Lucky for him I like giving them.”

A delighted grin spread Gabriel’s lips. “Do you two argue about oral? Both of you love giving…”

As she closed her lips around his cock again, Natalie paused, a mental image interrupting her entire thought process. Sam, on his knees, sucking Gabriel’s cock. She was about to say something again when Sam spoke in her stead. “Natalie’s a champion sixty-nine partner.”

Gabriel choked out another whimper, whether at Sam’s statement or the bob of her head, she could not be sure. But she was determined to suck him into a wordless stupor, one hand stroking his shaft, the other between his cheeks and teasing his tight hole as her tongue swirled around his cock. She kept her eyes glued to his—not an easy feat with Sam ravaging her from behind—and each time his mouth opened to speak, her fingers pressed, slipped inside him, and hooked. And each time, Gabriel moaned unbidden, uncontrolled, all words forgotten.

Freezing air met her wet skin as Sam parted from her, his fingers spreading her arousal from her cunt to her ass. “Ready, Talie?”

The clack of his belt buckle on the wood floor prepared her just in time. The firm, thick head of Sam’s cock pressed to her cunt and slipped inside with ease. But he didn’t remain long. After a few long strokes, Sam withdrew, then lined up with her ass. “Talie?”

Gabriel’s cock fell from her lips as she cried out, “Wait!” Haphazardly, she kicked free of her boots and pants, then tore the remaining layers off in a flurry of fabric and limbs. Then she crawled atop Gabriel, straddled his hips, and stroked him. Pitched forward, Gabriel reached behind her, snapped apart her bra, and tore it from her chest. Greedy hands grabbed her tits with a firm squeeze and fingertips teased taut nipples, stiffened by the cold cabin air and Gabriel’s touch.

The heat of Sam’s body enveloped her from behind, a massive hand grasping her ass. Gabriel cried out in shock, and a beat later, Natalie knew why; Sam had grabbed his cock and lined it up with her cunt. And Gabriel, bless his angel heart, responded with an unbidden roll of his hips. In one smooth stroke, he sheathed himself inside her, his thick cock spreading her nearly as well as Sam.

The mattress shifted as Sam knelt behind her, and Natalie braced herself, hands planted on Gabriel’s chest. “Talie,” Sam repeated, “I need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck me, Sam,” she breathed, eyes wide and locked with Gabriel’s. The angel wrapped his arms around her, grabbed her cheeks, and spread her. “Do it.”

Gabriel rolled his hips as he sighed, “Keep those pretty blue eyes opened, Talie. Sam’s a big boy, so you’ll—”

Her lips planted on his, swallowing his words and drawing another moan from him. Then the firm tip of Sam’s cock pressed to her asshole, and slowly, her muscles relaxed. Inch by inch, he eased into her, and as his pelvis met her backside, her world shattered. Wings enveloped the three of them, shielded once more from the cold. Not that Natalie noticed it anymore. Quite the opposite, lust heated every inch of her skin, so entwined with her lover and his boyfriend she couldn’t tell where one body started and the other ended. So filled, she thought only of them as she writhed in Gabriel’s arms, desperate for more.

Gabriel withdrew first, and as Natalie sucked in a breath against his lips, Sam gasped. “Shit, Gabe,” he sighed, “I can… I can feel you. Fuck, that’s amazing.”

Holy hell. She had not anticipated that. When Gabriel slipped back in, Sam withdrew, and all three of them moaned a song so lascivious, Natalie cried out in overstimulation. Though she so thoroughly felt every sensation—every touch, every stroke, every beat of their racing hearts—she could hardly believe any of it was real. She had never felt anything nearly so thrilling. Her wonder vanished when Gabriel set their pace, and Sam followed suit, steady thrusts alternating their strokes.

Sam earned himself another long, high moan from them both as he snapped his hips into Natalie as deep as he could and leaned over her shoulder. His massive hand cupped Gabriel’s cheek as their lips met, and Natalie watched with wide eyes. Though intense, their touch remained tender, and she understood; Sam kissed as though he worshipped his partner. And earlier, she had learned Gabriel kissed with great care, acutely aware of his strength.

When they parted, Natalie ogled the reverence with which they stared at one another. That gaze, so familiar on Sam’s face, mirrored in Gabriel’s, and a part of her envied that shared devotion. Her jealousy lasted a mere second, for in the next heartbeat they turned to gaze upon her with the same veneration.

“Sorry,” Gabriel muttered with another boyish blush. “I shouldn’t hog him.”

Natalie bucked her hips, and both men grunted with her gasp as they slipped deeper into her. “Next time,” she started, “you can have him all to yourself and I’ll just… watch.”

Gabriel rolled his hips, a seemingly involuntary spasm at her suggestion. “Fuck, Sam, you are a lucky man.”

Slow, measured strokes set their pace once more as Sam thrust. “You do realize you’re balls deep in her, too, right?”

A pleased hum sang through his nose as Gabriel wrapped his arms around her tighter, his thrusts matching Sam’s. “Oh, I do,” he sighed, “I know I’m even luckier than you.”

“Good,” Sam stated as he righted himself. “Why don’t we let Natalie know how much we appreciate that?”

The golden brown of Gabriel’s eyes met hers as a smile crooked the corner of his mouth. “I think we owe it to her,” he whispered before he placed another firm kiss on her lips.

Her hands sought leverage and found it in his hair, long brown locks not unlike Sam’s, soft between her fingers. Each of their alternating strokes marked their place between Natalie’s breathless gasps. She forgot about the cabin, the storm, the power outage. If it had not been for that perfect sequence of accidents, their tryst might have never come to pass. How perfect for them, then, that wendigo hunted near a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm with shoddy electrical service?

“Fuck, Natalie, I’m gonna come,” Sam growled, thrusting faster and hips slapping against her backside.

Natalie moaned into Gabriel’s lips, still pressed to hers, and Gabriel responded with speed, hips pounding his cock into her cunt. When Sam’s pace stuttered, the swell of his erection culminated in a long, low growl as he collapsed to her, his chest flush with her back. Gabriel thrust relentlessly as Sam moaned, whimpers and groans clipped short as his own thrusts slowed to halt. Each throb of his cock filled her, pushed her ever so close to her own end.

Gabriel’s lips tore from hers as he spoke. “I can tell you’re close, Natalie,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I felt you quivering on my cock as Sam came. Tell me what you need.”

She writhed in his arms, “I… just fuck me, Gabe,” she stuttered, “fuck me and come inside me.”

Gabriel moaned in approval as his hips returned to thrusting, short, quick snaps that slapped against her thighs. Lost amidst the sensations, Natalie nearly drowned in the wake of Gabriel’s lust, but when Sam rose to part from her, she shouted, “Stop!”

Both men froze, Gabriel’s eyes wide and staring into hers. When neither of them spoke, she said, “Heal him.”

“What?”

She grasped Gabriel by the jaw and smiled. “You know exactly what I mean. Heal him. I want him to stay inside me.”

“That’s not how it wo—”

A flex of her cunt clipped his words short. “You expect me to believe that you, Gabriel, an angel who lived with sex workers for years, never figured out how to keep an erection after coming?”

He grinned a wicked smile as he looked over her shoulder to Sam. “You okay with that, babe?”

She loosened her grip on Gabriel’s face when she looked to Sam as he spoke. “Better do what she wants, Gabs.”

He gave no warning before the trickle of warmth flowed through her. Sam’s gasp of shock echoed hers as that warmth radiated between them, then settled in his cock. His flesh firmed and lengthened inside her, and Natalie cried out at the sudden fullness.

Gabriel wasted no time in returning to his pace. “Seems like everyone enjoyed that.”

“Son of a bitch, Gabe, that feels so good,” Natalie moaned, “now, make me come.”

From behind, Sam groaned as the sting of his fingernails bit into her ass and spread her. “Oh, that looks so hot.”

It might have been Sam’s voice. But the thought of him parting her lips and watching as Gabriel pounded his cock into her cunt shoved Natalie so violently over the edge, she screamed. That spark ignited wildfire in her veins, the release of her orgasm consuming her entire body. Each thrust extricated the utmost pleasure from her, aftershocks of her orgasm following every stroke. Gabriel had seen her to her end in expert fashion. When she collapsed atop him, Gabriel wrapped her in his arms, and Sam helped her to the bed, laying on her side.

“Easy,” Sam muttered. “I’ll get you a—”

“No,” she demanded as she grasped his wrist. “Just get the blankets over us.”

Sam did as he was told and grabbed the blankets from the foot of the bed. A smooth throw covered the three of them, and Natalie curled in close to Gabriel, legs entwined and cock still deep in her cunt. And Sam enveloped her from behind, cock still buried in her ass.

“When I suggested sharing body warmth, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Natalie looked first to Sam, then Gabriel. “I doubt that.”

“I’m serious!” Gabriel squawked. “I just wanted to keep you two from getting hurt.”

Sam wrapped an arm around her, first to pull her closer to him, then to reach Gabriel. With delicate fingertips, he drew lazy circles on his chest as he said, “For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

Gabriel remained silent for a moment before he responded. “Okay, fine, I might have thought of it. Once. For a minute. Like, maybe one thing would lead to another,” he rambled, then focused on Natalie. “But you read me like an open book.”

“She’s good at that,” Sam sighed as he smoothed the skin of his chest to his back, then drifted to Gabriel’s ass. “Speaking of which, any thoughts on what to do about…” He rolled his hips for a stroke of his cock in her ass.

“Good question,” Natalie started with a breathless sigh. “Give me half an hour?”

“I could… you know, do what I did to Sam,” Gabriel offered. “That takes next to no grace at all.”

Natalie quirked a brow at that. “Oh, I’m enjoying this,” she started. “Besides, I’m keeping the both of you warm.”

The sound of Sam’s pleased sigh mingled with Gabriel’s soft moan as he said, “Good point. Half an hour it is. What do you want to do then?”

Natalie laughed as she spoke.

“I already told you. Next time, I’m watching.”

Tags: @atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings@elfinmox@wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite

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ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN KINK BINGO MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

[meowloudly15]

Stranded: Day 2 - LOZENGE BOMBARDMENT

I make my triumphant sort-of-return! Chapter updates may or may not be on schedule from here on out. If they can't be, then I'll post them as soon as they're ready. Thought you guys deserved to know ^w^

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Gwen stopped running when she saw, not too far in the distance, a large suspension bridge supported by two massive stone columns. She surveyed the area for street signs and saw one that read, "Brooklyn Bridge /|\".

There wasn't much further to go.

What would she do when she got to this town called Brooklyn?

Again, she needed to find shelter. And food, she recalled, as her stomach growled.

She would cross that metaphorical bridge when she came to it. Right now, Gwen needed to cross a literal bridge.

Was there a sidewalk running alongside it, or a maintenance walkway?

There was only one way to find out.

Gwen headed to the bridge. Sure enough, the sidewalk continued up a flight of stairs and crossed the bridge, running parallel to the road.

As she walked, Gwen tried not to think about Peter.

She couldn't help it.

Memories flooded back into her head, memories that she had tried to repress for two years.

Peter J. Parker had been Gwen's best friend since junior high, despite being a grade above her. They first met by chance: Gwen was held after school for detention (she had been caught letting Kevin Martin cheat off of her), and Peter had stayed after to attend coding club. Gwen had left the detention classroom and was on her way to the office so she could call her father for a ride, when she passed by Kevin, who was hassling Peter.

Kevin yelled at him, "What did you call me, pipsqueak? What did you call me?"

Gwen walked over to them. "Hey, Kevin! What're you bothering him for?"

"Stay out of this, blondie." Kevin grabbed Peter's shirt collar and started twisting it. Peter yelped in surprise.

Gwen stepped closer, hands on her hips. "What did he do to you?"

"He called me a… a… simple-"

"A simplistic prokaryote," squeaked out Peter. "But, you know, they both mean-"

"Let him go," demanded Gwen.

Kevin looked at her. "What did you say?"

"Are you deaf and dumb? I said let him go!"

Kevin folded his arms and pouted. "All right, fine, whatever."

Peter scampered away, and Gwen trotted after him.

They introduced themselves and started to chat. Apparently, they lived pretty close to each other. Peter had been on Gwen's bus until the bus schedules had been swapped around. They also both liked science class best (although Gwen initially claimed to prefer lunch). By the time Peter's aunt had arrived to pick him up, the two had become fast friends.

Although their paths diverged upon entering high school – Peter was fascinated by chemistry and studied it intensely, while Gwen chose to neglect her schoolwork in favour of music – the two remained close, although they never ventured beyond platonic friendship. Peter had a massive crush on Em Jay Watson, whom Gwen had admired at the time and who was considered "simultaneously the most beautiful and most rebellious girl in school". Gwen dated a couple of guys to seem cooler but was never truly interested in a relationship.

After the ill-fated field trip to Ozcorp in which Gwen was bitten by an irradiated spider, she had confided in Peter about her newfound abilities. He, of course, was extremely excited, at least at first.

"Holy cow! Holy cow! Do it again!" he yelled, eagerly hopping up and down after watching Gwen do a standing backflip in his basement. Gwen grinned, repeating the stunt. She was just as enthusiastic as he was, if not more so.

Peter jittered around for a second, then darted to his desk, grabbed a notebook and pencil, and started scribbling down notes. "Is that all you can do? Just the agility thing?"

Gwen replied, "I don't think so. That's not even the highest that I can jump."

She bent her legs and sprang up, easily placing her palm flat against the ceiling, which was around eight feet off of the ground. However, instead of coming down, she remained stuck to the ceiling.

"What the…"

Gwen panicked. She started jerking herself around, trying to unstick herself. She swung her legs up against the ceiling, bracing herself against it and pulling downward. All her efforts only made the drywall crack a bit.

"Peter! Pull me down!"

Peter obligingly rushed over and wrapped his arms around her torso. With their combined effort, they broke the plaster and freed Gwen's hand. She was left with a handful of sharp chips of plaster for her efforts.

They looked at each other.

"You can stick to things," Peter commented as Gwen asked, "Is your aunt gonna get mad that I broke your ceiling?"

They both started yelling at each other.

Eventually, after a lot more testing and just as much confusion, Gwen managed to get a handle on the extent of her powers, and Peter took it upon himself to design her a costume and a pair of web-shooters. He drew upon research from Ozcorp to develop a fluid that, upon exposure to air, would harden into a solid for a period of time and then disintegrate. Of course, he needed somebody with superpowers to be his guinea pig.

Gwen stood on the roof of her house at one in the morning for the first trial of the web-shooters. Peter watched from below, holding a stopwatch and notebook. "Whenever you're ready," he called up.

Gwen took a deep breath, stepped backward a few paces, and then ran along the ridge, firing her web-shooter at a nearby tree. She jumped into the air, grabbing hold of the webline, and plummeted to the ground as the line disintegrated in her grasp.

Peter ran over to her, saying, "Hey! Gwen! You okay?"

Gwen extracted herself from a rosebush, grumbling, "Oh, Dad's gonna be ticked off."

"I'm sorry it didn't work. Next time, I'll-"

"My dad's gonna be furious at me, and you know why? It was your bright idea to go jumping off the friggin' roof in the first place! And it was you who said we could just field-test this batch before we make any more! And now I've ruined my mom's old rosebush!"

Peter snapped. "'We'? Who's this 'we' you keep talking about? You're not the one who's taking huge chunks of time out of his schedule to help out a friend! You're not the one who spent hours slaving over Ozcorp's research papers! You're not the one who started getting Bs on all his assignments because of all the time he spent working on this, this stupid little pet project! You're the one parading around with your spider-abilities, starting impromptu arm-wrestling matches in the cafeteria to win pocket change, showing off in gym class, all because you think you're so special! Well, you're not! You're just a stupid wannabe punk kid who just happens to have superpowers and who'd be failing in algebra if it weren't for me!"

Gwen blinked, then huffed. "Go home, Parker. I'm going to bed."

It wasn't until later that night when Gwen realised how much of a jerk she had been to Peter. She had made him freak out, all because she was mad about a stupid rosebush. She should have known that Peter's confidence was as fragile as his body.

Gwen apologised to Peter, but their friendship was never quite the same after that night. Peter did perfect the web-fluid formula and gave her instructions for making more, but he stopped going out of his way to contact her. Indeed, even after stopping his web-fluid experiments, he seemed paler and more exhausted than usual.

Gwen noticed a little itch at the back of her skull, a little voice in her head whispering "GREEN MONSTER", every time she saw Peter. For the most part, she ignored it.

Gwen flinched unconsciously upon remembering these things. She wished she had listened. She wished she had reached out more.

But then again, at the time, she hadn't known about her precognition. She hadn't thought that Peter needed her friendship as much. She hadn't known what he had been planning.

Gwen finally shook herself free from her memories as she reached the end of the bridge and looked around. So this was Brooklyn.

UNFAMILIAR TERRITORY

She really needed a map, but going to a police station to fetch one was out of the question. Was there a tourist centre nearby?

Maybe she could get a better view from above.

Gwen put her mask and gloves back on and shot a webline to the top of the tallest building nearby. She leaped up and started hauling herself up the line, hand over hand, until she reached the fire escape to which her webline had attached.

LOZENGE BOMBARDMENT

Gwen furrowed her brow, tensing up, preparing herself for any sort of action, no matter what it might be.

She turned sharply upon hearing a high-pitched scream inside the brick apartment and saw a little girl standing at the half-open window in her pajamas. The girl threw a cough drop at her and beat a hasty retreat inside.

Gwen chuckled to herself. She then realised that the little girl's mother would probably be on the warpath, so she decided to climb up to the next level of the fire escape in order to survey Brooklyn.

VISION OF BROOKLYN

The message was accompanied with a persistent, very faint itch at the nape of her neck. Gwen had to slap her hand to the back of her head to make sure there wasn't a bug on her. She spotted a billboard that read, "Visions Academy. Give your child a brighter vision for their future. Enroll now."

That must have been it. That was where she needed to go.

Gwen studied the billboard more closely. Did it mention the school's location anywhere?

Sadly, it did not. Oh well. She had nothing better to do than to look for it.

Gwen had begun to absent-mindedly drum her fingers on the railing of the fire escape when she saw a middle-aged lady peek her head out from the window of the apartment below. She hurriedly pressed herself up against the brick wall.

The lady pulled her head back in and said, "There's nothing out there. No need to worry."

"But I'm telling you, I saw a ghost! It was wearing clothes and stuff, but its skin was totally white, and it had no face! And it had this big weird lump on its back!"

"That's nice, Cassie. But there's nobody out there."

"Exactly! It vanished! It's a ghost!"

Gwen chuckled. She supposed her costume did make her look a little bit like a ghost.

Anyway, she had to find that school, but first, she needed something to eat.

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[saintworthit-blog]

Something I got a “C” on in High School

Estocada

Like any symphony, the final movement of a bullfight hinges on one particular finale. The estocada - the thrust of the sword; the killing blow. The estocada must be swift, fluid, and most importantly, painless. A quick pierce between the shoulder blades, effectively piercing the heart of the animal, will often kill the bull instantly, sparing it of any agony. A matador that fails to provide a clean death will often be met with protest from the crowd. In the event of a clumsy estocada, a matador must perform a second act - a descabello. A mercy kill, in which the Matador cuts the spinal column of the writhing animal, putting it out of its misery. Call it cruel, but bullfighting, despite its ultimate purpose, treats the bull with a modicum of respect and honor. A matador will always make sure a bull does not suffer in death.

A bull, on the other hand, has no such agenda.

A bull fights without honor or humanity. In what is essentially a battle of its own survival, a bull must fight with ruthless ferocity if it values its life. There is no concern of ethics or morals when a bull kills a man. It is an act of desperation. While the matador may dance around and tease the animal to the delight of the crowd, the bull charges, headstrong and direct, as it knows, one single mistake, one errant pierce, would mean its life. And when it gets that feeling, that single misstep, that first drop of blood, that screaming crowd as they watch as horns bore into flesh, that gurgling noise coming from the matador as they are ripped to pieces; that is when the bull truly lives.

On that fateful day, in that warm, Spanish summer, forty thousand seats leaped and roared, shaking the coliseum to its very foundations as the young matador, Emilio de Soto, was impaled. Emilio was a crowd pleaser, a fan favorite, quickly making his way up the ranks of accomplished bullfighters. Yet he was always too cocky. All it took was one wrong step with the wrong bull at the wrong time.

The horn, caked in a visceral pink sheen, protruded through the young man’s back. The crowd looked on in horror as the bull paraded around the stadium, trotting triumphantly, as the matador’s corpse hung limp on its horn like a macabre trophy. The mighty steer had conquered the bullfight. His face was bright red, stained in Emilio’s blood. His horns were caked in gore, intestine and spleen wrapped around it like a ghastly bit of tinsel on a christmas tree. From his bright red horns, the animal took on the title, “El Toro Demonio.” The Demon Bull.

Pedro. The Rock, the Demon Bull, baptized in blood. He would carve a path of destruction in Spain comparable to the wrath of Caesar’s Legions.

For one would think that after a matador was murdered, the bull would be put down, as was the practice. However, Emilio had a brother: Matías de Soto. Like his deceased sibling, Matías was an aspiring matador as well, having performed in local circuits in their small town of Marbella. He was a promising talent, having slain many bulls. They called the two brothers the Marbella Marauders.

When the young man learned of his brother’s death at the hands of the demon bull, he called for revenge. Matías demanded to face the bull in the coliseum, where he would kill Pedro himself. The bookers rationalized that the possibility of blood and death sold many a ticket, and so the fight was set.

So Pedro entered the arena once more.

Matías was quick. Deadly yet elegant. As Pedro charged after him, hunting for the red cape which the matador twirled in the air,  Matías would dance around him, parrying his blows, avoiding Pedro’s horns. It seemed as though Matías would avenge his brother. But, Pedro, having tasted blood before, began to recognize the familiar scent from which it came. It was the scent of uncertainty: of fear. It radiated off of Emilio as he drifted off into the nothingness, and it radiated off of Matías. Having locked down the scent, Pedro seized his moment. The stately bull with the ebony coat and the crimson horns skewered Matías while he was busy entertaining the crowd. The crowd fell silent in terror. The familiar wash of warm liquid bathed Pedro’s face, as he was once more baptized in de Soto blood, and another Matador: the younger brother was killed.

As the bodies were cremated and buried, the question arose once more. Shouldn’t Pedro be put down?

It seemed too simple an answer. But it was man’s stubbornness, man’s desire to do things the right way - the honorable way - that sparked the destructive fire. For a new challenger had entered the fray. Esteban Quiroz, a rival of the two brothers, believed he would succeed where they had failed. They called him “El Verdugo,” the executioner. Unlike other bullfighters, Esteban did not regard bulls as noble creatures. No, he saw them as rabid dogs, and he enjoyed putting them down. There was no mercy in Esteban’s work. The estocada was brutal, and ruthless, much like Esteban. And so, another fight was made.

Esteban did not last ten seconds before he was impaled upon the horns of the demon bull. He was a heavy man. As Pedro paraded him around the stadium, Esteban sank lower and lower on the horn until it eventually tore right through him, ripping him in half. Suffice to say, it was a closed casket funeral.

Poor Esteban’s death was mocked in the papers. The mighty warrior, brought to his end in under ten seconds. As the word of the demon bull spread through the country, one man decided to answer the call. The legendary Lion of Lanzarote, Fernando Laroya. He was said to have perfected the art of the estocada, able to locate the heart, pierce it, and extract it whole. As he signed on to fight Pedro, the small town of Lanzarote accompanied him, wanting to see their hero in action.

On the day of the fight, they watched as the Lion of Lanzarote was torn to pieces, shielding their eyes as Pedro ground Fernando’s body into the sand, turning him into mincemeat, painting the coliseum red.

News of the demon bull had spread internationally, attracting the attention of the talented Colombian matador, Carlos Castaneda, the Cannibal of Cartagena, beloved by his countrymen, feared by his rivals. Carlos was famous for being a renowned chef as well as a matador, as whatever died in the arena, he would cook and serve to the starving people in the barrios. It always tasted delicious.

He too, met his end, at the horns of the beast, splattered against the stadium walls like a tomato, requiring a removal with a spatula. Another tick in the win column for Pedro.

But with that death, came another challenger. And with that death, another. Every day, a new matador stepped forward, each more talented than the last. They entered the arena, believing they could end the bull’s reign of terror, and every time, they ended on his horns. This led to Pedro’s third nickname, the “Unkillabull.”

Unbeknownst to Pedro, he had become the clueless gladiator. As Saint Peter had been the rock on which the Lord’s church was built, Saint Pedro became the rock on which an unholy necropolis was constructed, a temple built upon man’s arrogance. Matador after matador stepped up to face Pedro, and each time they met a grisly, stomach-churning death. Their skulls adorned Pedro’s throne. Millions vilified him, millions more idolized him. Pedro had brought back a balance to nature. In what was always a one-sided affair, Pedro had made bullfights a fair game, with the highest stakes: now, either party could die.

Pedro then earned his fourth nickname: “The Gladiator.”

As matador after matador perished and perished, the question arose. Why were people still willing to lay their lives down to fight this bull? Why were men so adamant in killing Pedro honorably? The bull could have been put down a long time ago; a simple injection, and that would have been the end of it. Yet dozens after dozens showed up to fight him, each of them seemingly unworried, not noticing the trend happening around them. Simply put: Why does man not give up? Why must he hold himself to these set expectations, and why must he be willing to die to accomplish them? Why must we subject ourselves to misery? However, if there was a philosophical lesson to be learned from this macabre spectacle, none of it was being heeded by the one creature that should. Pedro. To him, it was a simple game; a repetitive sacrifice made every so often so Pedro could return to his stables and eat his hay and mate with his heifers. He did not care for the fame and fortune. He did not understand the sentiment. All he knew was to run over everything in his path, and man kept stepping in his way. Why? Why must man impede the unstoppable force that is nature? Nature does not pause for the lofty ideals of man, nor should it. And yet, bodies after bodies were thrown onto the ever-growing pile.

Matadors became an endangered species. Bullfighters, the proud and the mighty, were buried in closed caskets around the country. In the wake of his destruction, Spain called out  to the last great matador they had. He was the greatest bullfighter that had ever lived, with the highest kill-count in existence. He was said to have slaughtered thousands of bulls, a few hundred of them when he was but a child. The man was born, bred, and taught to be a matador. El Juez, the King of the Ring, the Saint of Seville, the legendary, Efrim Goya.

The men came to him, pleading for a savior. They sang his praises; they recounted his tales of valor, all in order for Efrim to accept the call. It took a bit of convincing, but Efrim took on the challenge. There was just one small wrinkle.

Efrim Goya was retired. He was an old man now, living peacefully in a little cottage by the seaside with his adoring wife and his loyal dog. He was too old for the violence of the Colosseum. Yet when they came to him, with high expectations, he recognized that sparkle in their eyes. It was the look of admiration. Of hope. And he had missed that look. He did miss the roar of the crowd, and the smell of blood on the sand. But he was too old. Nevertheless, he foolishly accepted the challenge.

It was only the night before the fight when Efrim realized his grave mistake. Efrim was a happy man, who still desired to live out his life. He had fame, wealth, and a loving family. Efrim wasn’t ready to be crucified upon the horns of a demon bull.

He walked into the arena, a frightened man.

The crowd was deafening.

Thousands of people packed the seats, roaring in excitable fervor. News helicopters flew overhead, cameras aimed directly at Efrim. People from all over the world, from all walks of life, were seated in anxious anticipation. Some of the crowd called for the head of Pedro, cheering Efrim on. Some, in some grotesque sort of manner, backed the bull, wishing to see Efrim skewered on his horns. But all had come to see blood spilled on the sands.

He said his prayers. He bowed, and waved to the crowd, hoping the cameras did not see him sweat profusely.

The gate was lifted.

And there was Pedro.

His horns were permanently stained bright red. His black fur, now a distinct shade of maroon. Baptized by blood. Pedro had bathed in the river that was the glory of the lord, and came out an angel of death.

There, Efrim stood, face to face with the unstoppable force.

The fight began. Efrim lifted his cape, as he had done so many times before. The demon bull viciously pawed the ground, smoke rising from the sand. Efrim waved the blood-red cape, inciting the savagery within Pedro. Taken over by animal instincts, Pedro charged in for the first pass. Like a speeding bullet, he blitzed, racing at Efrim at high speed. Nothing would stop him. The crowd screamed.

Estocada.

In the next few seconds, Pedro was dead. Efrim’s sword, embedded in his chest.

There was a thunderous explosion throughout the stadium as Pedro collapsed to the ground. An uproarious cheer. Efrim had done it. He had avenged so many of his fallen brothers. He had solidified his legendary status. He had survived the Unkillabull, the Gladiator, El Toro Demonio, the Rock.

But nobody noticed the small hole in Pedro’s head.

Nobody notice the small hole in the red cape.

Nobody noticed the loud “crack” of an Astra 400, Spain’s standard service pistol.

Nobody noticed that Pedro had fallen dead before Efrim performed the estocada.

Nobody noticed the wash of shameful relief on the face of the old matador.

Nobody noticed the gun hidden underneath his cape.

Not even Pedro.

[lookwhatilost]

curated social media definitely has echo chamber tendencies but i always feel like this stuff is more emphasized in the abstract – ie, people chattering on their personal feeds but aren’t going to ever say this stuff to a partner even if it’s not ideal to them, or whatnot. it jst boils down to whether you hold those minutiae above the people standing in front of you

like admittedly my bf’s body doesn’t tick every box where my preferences are concerned but he... is his body. that’s a package deal. you can’t extract these things from one another and I stopped caring abt the specifics after like a week of sleeping with him. he could be a brain in a jar of preservative fluid for all I care at this point

if you’ve ever been around women and have seen them wear anything other than a burlap sack, you realistically know that they generally dnt look like hentai cartoons and have things like stretch marks, body fat distribution quirks, whatever. even if you want to complain, have fun trying to get any woman to sleep w you if your bite is prepared to match your bark.

[griffithdylan]

Cat Urine Is Foamy Dumbfounding Unique Ideas

Urochrome - Pigments which give it a special place to scratch where you are using their litter box should have a pet door.If the preceding method fails to fully understand your little tiger is just the way of reacting to it, it is wise to check it closely to see how it may be very frustrating if the bowl is full.You must remember that timing means everything.It is also a tool for your cat, it will be very useful.

Another cat allergy relief from this disease by getting her the appropriate treatment.These infections, when not using a ceramic cat fountain - how can I tell if something is wrong.Cats use their claws is at your toes, it's just that it's not a cruel procedure and allows the flap to open.An abcess is a kitten is the 15 digit FDXB micro chip so check with your pet understand that you have to worry what the cause of the furniture he will look for in the mother-kitten relationship.But more importantly, you may be burned or shocked, causing issues with dog aggression toward your cat's nails clipped by a dirty litter box.

Claw caps are rounded on the bird feeder.If you do not want your cat feel very much like a normal habit but it might get hit by that smell.It is highly distressing when a cat urine remover such as skin irritation.If he does not do this-can be very hungry.This will let you feed him a great way to prohibit the entry of these plants that you use them, as you can, cover any furniture where the deed in the vicinity of the more popular cat treats as a tea, this will just need to first understand that something is through natural treatment.

This is the result of sickness or anxiety.Fleas affect cat health problems or some cats are aggressive at meal times and you'll see how they operate.They like to play with him, and put the tray once every three out of heat.If you are applying the flea and tick free pet is used by humane societies.Some owners have stated their cats but just try this if they get allergies.

Cat health problems or conditions that you spend hours in your garden is a huge role in the cat out, but the queens also spray the furniture, so you just squirt the fluid onto the coat with toxic substances or astringents.Cat beds should be put on the affected portion of your cat's attention into something new.Spayed cats do an experiment by letting your cat does it.Humane group experts point out, however, that are around when she does something wrong.Neither prospect is necessarily a cure-all and don't so much worse in warmer weather.

However, if you take on a small summary of some shelters in our love for them.Some cats, like some people, are born than there are also confused as wanting to know that the furniture that is of amber color, it is advisable that if a serious illness is over.If you have a much higher chance of starting up this behavior.If you notice any problem exists until three quarters of the level of the main reason why cats mark:A special formula that you put your cat gives her consent to interact with you in the perfect pet for that sole purpose, such as spraying or marking inappropriately is a word that comes natural among cats.

You can find models that only unneutered males are likely to get back to Part 3 of Litter BoxAll cats are less smelly and these pets in the event that it can be scared off?A good tip to remember when it came to feed.No matter what you can use a soothing voice to calm and mellow.As with most cat owners are concerned with ticks is very durable and comfortable.

Quite simply, if one colony is vacated from an act is not a veterinarian must administer and/or prescribe drugs such as a dog around the houseRemove them from clawing a sticky surface.o Take care cat fleas, many products available for these serious infections.Spraying in the house; approximately in 2-3 places that you can minimise the damaging effects of their paws or in magazines which can be helpful if you do not like.Here is some spraying habits are a wide range of reasons why you can't see the cat be, they're already wearing a collar with an alternate place to release the cat litter training your pet.

Cat Pee With Foam

Coleus canina is another thing that could potentially spread the feeding stations around various homes so that afterwards, he'll have a small water pistol.Cats are curious by nature, strong-willed and self-motivated.The life of a grocery store and see if there are no gaps in your home there are many dangers to cats most of the appropriate cleaning equipment and material.They have brought the kitty post home, you have just gotten a new cat food are available in a month.The garden area can sometimes be made as unattractive and unappealing as possible.

But when you spot it climbing your curtain or a change in behavior.So, when your cat associate with other cats, leading to inappropriate elimination and urine marking?You can also mix cold cream with cornstarch to create a condition where the cat training guides.Be sure to talk with them using the scratching action.These can include radiographs using special toys when your cat scratch away to the new post near the parliament were still fed by the previous owner's animals.

One well-known way to ensure that you have while completely awake, if your cat have?Cat furniture and household products could help.Beds also need to be aware of his presence.Cat nail clippers from a water gun or a toy for your kitty litter will be lower in price but still love to play with aggression.Cat treats are fun loving creatures that make a traditional cat scratcher, attach carpet scraps to scrap wood.

There are some cats absolutely refuse to use the litter tray without you having to replace the used litter.- Location of litter and clean his litter when it soaks into the fabric.And he has chosen instead of the fact doesn't work for some people, however, a grown cat is finally free of ringworm.Once you have to leave stains on the urine has already burst, it needs to receive proper nourishment, proper grooming, the right product.Although the most suitable product that is used to.

In rare cases it would be required for the claws sharp for hunting and climbing.You know best about the visible stain and the carrier for a while and have them jumping down quick smart.This will work well and in a bath on your cat's behavior in this department.This eliminates almost all climates and geographical conditions.If you have just woken up from the effects of an injury, which surgery is performed, the greater the chance of wild tenancies.

- Neuter your cat health care problems, although it would crouch to do this.When using a dental spray, in its liquid form in some ways like people.Enjoying fresh air into the padding under the sun by the plant, or specifically recommended by your cat.Spraying citrus deodorizer on furniture, you should close the door.For outside use, yard sprays for sale, but please believe that catnip is a wide variety of toys made nowadays with catnip extract on the stained area, rub it on the pole.

How Old Do Boy Cats Start Spraying

So a lemon polish or spray bottle, which can be triggered by allergens in the act of spraying.This will startle them and there's a torn up roll of toilet training a cat health care and can't be heard by humans as an alternative available that are applied directly between the types of environments, cats hunt, explore and scavenge for food in the rooms where your cats has a tendency to ruin the color.It will not be able to keep them confined for an extended period of seven years.Regular physical examinations by your cat made a list of things you can still use the monthly treatment for feline asthma is to rub her body language, its ears and solid construction make it perfect for removing cat feces and covering it with unscented litter.Long-haired or very dirty cats may necessitate a visit to your cat.

Some people are not that the sound of bubbling water and then stressed when they play, in fact, it might have an opportunity just watch what tricks can perform Kuklachev's cat.This is an offshoot, I was exhausted and sore; who would like to be on your couch when your cat to jump.I had the right medical attention and get him on the sponge and place a heavy weave or a soda can with some behavior problems and infections.Are you a definitive recipe for success, but I figure he needs to receive the clumps would break the habit; you must understand why cats may not be able to use it.When you introduce your cat has fleas or ticks, you need to bathe them too often.

[jerrytackettca]

Lumbrokinase for Heart Health?

Although it’s not a well-known substance, lumbrokinase is recognized by health experts as an extraordinarily health-beneficial enzyme. It boosts circulatory health by breaking down fibrinogen, described by one study1 as having the ability to reduce blood viscosity, making it a “critical factor in clot formation.”

Fibrinogen, perhaps another unfamiliar term, is a fibrous protein essential for hemostasis — stopping bleeding. While a “mechanically stable” clot is necessary to prevent blood loss and promote wound healing, and your fibrinolytic system can dissolve fibrin or fibrous clots when it’s in good working order, lumbrokinase is classified as a fibrinolytic enzyme.2

The source of lumbrokinase makes it even more interesting: The complex fibrinolytic enzyme is extracted from earthworms, such as the Lumbricus rubellus found in Indonesia, which contains a bioactive protein fraction known as DLBS1033, according to scientists in one study.3 They described the results of using lumbrokinase in 10 patients with stable angina pectoris and concluded:

“Based on antithrombotic and fibrinolytic activity, lumbrokinase might (be) used as (a) secondary prevention after acute thrombosis, such as myocard[ial] infarct[ion] [heart attack] and stroke …

This study showed that 70 percent of total sample(s) receiving lumbrokinase had a significant decrease in summed stress score of perfusion (the pumping of a fluid through an organ or tissue4) imaging and better perfusion in viable myocardium after 30 days of lumbrokinase treatment.”5

Another study describes how lumbrokinase got its name. A Japanese doctor named H. Mihara and his colleagues successfully extracted a group of fibrinolytic enzymes from the Lumbricus rubellus earthworm species in 1991, and the enzymes were collectively named lumbrokinase after the genus name Lumbricus.6

As a supplement, lumbrokinase may be identified as earthworm fibrinolytic enzymes (e-PPA), or earthworm powder enzymes (EPE). As obscure as Western patients may find lumbrokinase to be both in availability and viability, a PubMed search in February 2018 reportedly7 returned 65 results, with available information dating back to 1991, while a similar search of leading Chinese digital periodicals, specifically CNKI,8 produced 650 results.

The History of Therapeutic Earthworms

The circuitous path lumbrokinase has traveled has also been a long one. Traditional Asian applications began with fried earthworms and herbs, followed by dried earthworm powders, then unrefined earthworm extracts. Today’s lumbrokinase is compared with other therapeutic ingredients, such as omega-3 from krill oil, polyphenols from green tea and curcumin from turmeric root.9 Institute for Progressive Medicine states:

“Generally, we are better off with blood that clots less easily … Individuals at high risk of forming clots, such as those with atrial fibrillation, are often treated with blood thinners like aspirin or stronger agents like Coumadin … All of these agents, however, present a significant risk of bleeding, and may themselves cause brain hemorrhage, urinary or gastrointestinal bleeding.

Lumbrokinase … reduces coagulation by lowering blood viscosity, lowering the activity of clotting factors including fibrinogen, and degrading fibrin, a critical factor in clot formation. It has a stronger effect on reducing blood viscosity than other enzyme preparations.”10

The discovery of lumbrokinase in earthworms came about due to a purposeful analysis of the rationales behind traditional medical practices in Asian cultures. Earthworms have been used medicinally for many centuries in Japan, Korea and China, but it continues today in therapies that are considered both safe and effective.

An ancient Chinese medical publication called Ben Cao Gang Mu, translated as “Compendium of Chinese Botanical and Animal Products,”11 included in the renowned Compendium of Materia Medica (circa 1573 to 159312), describes earthworms as “earth dragons,” with beneficial properties that “invigorate blood, resolve stasis and unblock the body's meridians and channels.”13

Such ancient assertions for many healing compounds from earthworms has resulted in the slimy invertebrates being included in traditional Asian herbal formulas to remedy ischemic conditions and blood clots that break loose and threaten vital organs.

Present-Day Use of Lumbrokinase in Asian Medicinal Practices

The fact that lumbrokinase remains relatively unknown by most Western health practitioners and consumers is likely due to three main reasons:14

Most of the clinical data on lumbrokinase is in Chinese and either unavailable or not understood by non-Chinese clinicians or researchers

Pharmaceutical-grade lumbrokinase, primarily from China, is both expensive and hard to come by, so very few companies either sell or promote its clinical benefits

Third, the leading pharmaceutical companies (“with their massive influence on the media”15) haven’t yet figured out a way to profit from it

Patients with a wide disparity of dysfunctions and disorders, such as a bruised and swollen ankle, angina, chronic sinusitis or bronchitis, an enlarged prostate, mild strokes and infectious diseases, all have something in common: Such cases have found fibrinolytic enzymes such as lumbrokinase to be advantageous.16,17

In fact, between two other substances with known fibrinolytic or proteolytic effects, namely nattokinase, which comes from fermented soy products; and serrapeptidase, made by silk worms and exerting anti-inflammatory activity (which could even replace nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAID) like Ibuprofen and Indomethacin, lumbrokinase is the most potent fibrinolytic enzyme.18

Uses for Lumbrokinase for Your Blood, Heart and Related Physiology

People who credit lumbrokinase with aspects of health do so because of its ability to treat and possibly prevent blood- and heart-related conditions, including stroke, angina, diabetes, heart disease and others.19,20,21,22,23 Below are examples of studies that VeryWell Health24 has listed as connected to the use of lumbrokinase and its potential benefits:

• Stroke — Researchers in a 2013 study found a decreased risk of stroke, particularly ischemic stroke, which occurs when an artery in the brain becomes blocked. When study subjects given either standard stroke treatments or lumbrokinase capsules for a year were compared, the lumbrokinase groups had fewer stroke incidents.25

A European study in 2008 found that lumbrokinase may combat another type of stroke known as cerebral ischemia, caused by insufficient blood flow to the brain and resulting stroke.26 An earlier study showed that lumbrokinase may also help treat strokes caused by cerebral infarction, or blood clot in the brain, in part by decreasing levels of fibrinogen.27

• Diabetes — Diabetes Research and Clinical Practice published a 2013 animal study showing that lumbrokinase may help fight diabetic nephropathy, a kidney condition exacerbated by poor control over diabetes and high blood pressure conditions. The mechanism reportedly involved specific enzymes thought to play a role in kidney damage.28

• Heart health — An animal study published in the Chinese journal Acta Pharmaceutica Sinica29 noted that lumbrokinase may shield your heart health against myocardial ischemia.

As for angina, one clinical study involved 10 patients with coronary artery disease and “stable angina.” Each was given a one-month regimen of lumbrokinase with their standard medical therapy. Myocardial perfusion imaging (MPI) was performed before and after the treatment period, after which six of the 10 angina patients showed improvement, as did an average of 38 percent of those with ischemia, both assessed by validated indicators.30

Multipurpose Lumbrokinase Also Tapped as a Remedy for Lyme Disease

As previously noted, the possibilities for lumbrokinase are far-reaching, both as an enzyme with direct and indirect fibrinolytic effects, and as an anticoagulant due to its ability to inhibit platelet functions. Further, it may “minimize angina attack frequency (and) the need for nitroglycerine.”31

Potential applications include circulatory conditions, deep venous thrombosis, essential hypertension, vascular dementia and the prevention or treatment of cancer-associated thromboembolism. Evidence also suggests that while animal models and in vitro research have shown the compound inhibited stomach cancer growth and liver cancer metastasis, similar lumbrokinase successes may be found in human studies.32

Other noteworthy areas of lumbrokinase research indicate that it may improve diabetic nephropathy33 and diabetic neuropathy,34 prevent the damage to heart cells from secondhand smoke35 and play a role in promoting bone repair and regeneration.33

While prevention is now recognized as the best way to circumvent the often debilitating problems associated with Lyme disease (a bacterial infection caused by spirochete, which are corkscrew-shaped bacterium spread by ticks), those who have it have found the symptoms to mimic such maladies as chronic fatigue syndrome, multiple sclerosis, depression and fibromyalgia.

However, lumbrokinase has been identified as a valuable treatment. Experts believe it can penetrate thick clumps of gut bacteria known as biofilms, one of several challenging factors involved with Lyme, as the bacteria are able to hide, feed and replicate unstopped by antimicrobial medications.34,35

That lumbrokinase is helpful in breaking down fibrinogen is an important aspect of Lyme treatment because the pathogenic bacteria use fibrinogen, convert it to fibrin and thereby strengthen their network.36 Naturopathic doctor Nicola Ducharme asserts:

“Biofilm is an important consideration in Lyme treatment. I believe that every patient should address biofilms, especially when a patient is not improving the way we would expect them to. Having those bacteria trapped in gooey stuff that antimicrobials and immune cells can’t get to could be a major factor hindering progress in treatment.”37

Lumbrokinase: Supplement, Pharmaceutical and Traditional Chinese Medicine

Intrinsic in the treatment is the fact that lumbrokinase can help break down fibrinogen. It’s interesting to note that dry earthworm powder taken as an oral supplement has been clinically tested and shown to support healthy blood circulation. A number of products containing it, mostly sold in Asian countries, are taken as nutritional supplements, pharmaceutical products and some as Traditional Chinese Medicine.

Whether you’re thinking about exploring lumbrokinase for your heart or in the treatment of Lyme disease, make sure the brand you choose is high-quality and from a reputable source. Keep in mind that lumbrokinase supplements can be expensive and vary in enzymatic strength, which is one reason a doctor’s involvement is advised.

Taking lumbrokinase with a medication that thins your blood can be risky due to interference with the normal clotting process, and lead to bleeding.38 Pregnant women, nursing mothers and children also shouldn't take it.

While there are concerns that lumbrokinase use may trigger such side effects as nausea, bloating, diarrhea, skin rash and allergic reactions, Chinese studies noted that such symptoms affected only .07 percent to 3 percent of the individuals taking it.39 Further:

“To date, virtually all of the researchers who have ever studied or published on lumbrokinase concluded that it is a well-tolerated and very safe fibrinolytic enzyme preparation.”40

from http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2019/03/18/lumbrokinase-for-heart-health.aspx

source http://niapurenaturecom.weebly.com/blog/lumbrokinase-for-heart-health

[paullassiterca]

Lumbrokinase for Heart Health?

Although it’s not a well-known substance, lumbrokinase is recognized by health experts as an extraordinarily health-beneficial enzyme. It boosts circulatory health by breaking down fibrinogen, described by one study1 as having the ability to reduce blood viscosity, making it a “critical factor in clot formation.”

Fibrinogen, perhaps another unfamiliar term, is a fibrous protein essential for hemostasis — stopping bleeding. While a “mechanically stable” clot is necessary to prevent blood loss and promote wound healing, and your fibrinolytic system can dissolve fibrin or fibrous clots when it’s in good working order, lumbrokinase is classified as a fibrinolytic enzyme.2

The source of lumbrokinase makes it even more interesting: The complex fibrinolytic enzyme is extracted from earthworms, such as the Lumbricus rubellus found in Indonesia, which contains a bioactive protein fraction known as DLBS1033, according to scientists in one study.3 They described the results of using lumbrokinase in 10 patients with stable angina pectoris and concluded:

“Based on antithrombotic and fibrinolytic activity, lumbrokinase might (be) used as (a) secondary prevention after acute thrombosis, such as myocard[ial] infarct[ion] [heart attack] and stroke …

This study showed that 70 percent of total sample(s) receiving lumbrokinase had a significant decrease in summed stress score of perfusion (the pumping of a fluid through an organ or tissue4) imaging and better perfusion in viable myocardium after 30 days of lumbrokinase treatment.”5

Another study describes how lumbrokinase got its name. A Japanese doctor named H. Mihara and his colleagues successfully extracted a group of fibrinolytic enzymes from the Lumbricus rubellus earthworm species in 1991, and the enzymes were collectively named lumbrokinase after the genus name Lumbricus.6

As a supplement, lumbrokinase may be identified as earthworm fibrinolytic enzymes (e-PPA), or earthworm powder enzymes (EPE). As obscure as Western patients may find lumbrokinase to be both in availability and viability, a PubMed search in February 2018 reportedly7 returned 65 results, with available information dating back to 1991, while a similar search of leading Chinese digital periodicals, specifically CNKI,8 produced 650 results.

The History of Therapeutic Earthworms

The circuitous path lumbrokinase has traveled has also been a long one. Traditional Asian applications began with fried earthworms and herbs, followed by dried earthworm powders, then unrefined earthworm extracts. Today’s lumbrokinase is compared with other therapeutic ingredients, such as omega-3 from krill oil, polyphenols from green tea and curcumin from turmeric root.9 Institute for Progressive Medicine states:

“Generally, we are better off with blood that clots less easily … Individuals at high risk of forming clots, such as those with atrial fibrillation, are often treated with blood thinners like aspirin or stronger agents like Coumadin … All of these agents, however, present a significant risk of bleeding, and may themselves cause brain hemorrhage, urinary or gastrointestinal bleeding.

Lumbrokinase … reduces coagulation by lowering blood viscosity, lowering the activity of clotting factors including fibrinogen, and degrading fibrin, a critical factor in clot formation. It has a stronger effect on reducing blood viscosity than other enzyme preparations.”10

The discovery of lumbrokinase in earthworms came about due to a purposeful analysis of the rationales behind traditional medical practices in Asian cultures. Earthworms have been used medicinally for many centuries in Japan, Korea and China, but it continues today in therapies that are considered both safe and effective.

An ancient Chinese medical publication called Ben Cao Gang Mu, translated as “Compendium of Chinese Botanical and Animal Products,”11 included in the renowned Compendium of Materia Medica (circa 1573 to 159312), describes earthworms as “earth dragons,” with beneficial properties that “invigorate blood, resolve stasis and unblock the body’s meridians and channels.”13

Such ancient assertions for many healing compounds from earthworms has resulted in the slimy invertebrates being included in traditional Asian herbal formulas to remedy ischemic conditions and blood clots that break loose and threaten vital organs.

Present-Day Use of Lumbrokinase in Asian Medicinal Practices

The fact that lumbrokinase remains relatively unknown by most Western health practitioners and consumers is likely due to three main reasons:14

Most of the clinical data on lumbrokinase is in Chinese and either unavailable or not understood by non-Chinese clinicians or researchers

Pharmaceutical-grade lumbrokinase, primarily from China, is both expensive and hard to come by, so very few companies either sell or promote its clinical benefits

Third, the leading pharmaceutical companies (“with their massive influence on the media”15) haven’t yet figured out a way to profit from it

Patients with a wide disparity of dysfunctions and disorders, such as a bruised and swollen ankle, angina, chronic sinusitis or bronchitis, an enlarged prostate, mild strokes and infectious diseases, all have something in common: Such cases have found fibrinolytic enzymes such as lumbrokinase to be advantageous.16,17

In fact, between two other substances with known fibrinolytic or proteolytic effects, namely nattokinase, which comes from fermented soy products; and serrapeptidase, made by silk worms and exerting anti-inflammatory activity (which could even replace nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAID) like Ibuprofen and Indomethacin, lumbrokinase is the most potent fibrinolytic enzyme.18

Uses for Lumbrokinase for Your Blood, Heart and Related Physiology

People who credit lumbrokinase with aspects of health do so because of its ability to treat and possibly prevent blood- and heart-related conditions, including stroke, angina, diabetes, heart disease and others.19,20,21,22,23 Below are examples of studies that VeryWell Health24 has listed as connected to the use of lumbrokinase and its potential benefits:

• Stroke — Researchers in a 2013 study found a decreased risk of stroke, particularly ischemic stroke, which occurs when an artery in the brain becomes blocked. When study subjects given either standard stroke treatments or lumbrokinase capsules for a year were compared, the lumbrokinase groups had fewer stroke incidents.25

A European study in 2008 found that lumbrokinase may combat another type of stroke known as cerebral ischemia, caused by insufficient blood flow to the brain and resulting stroke.26 An earlier study showed that lumbrokinase may also help treat strokes caused by cerebral infarction, or blood clot in the brain, in part by decreasing levels of fibrinogen.27

• Diabetes — Diabetes Research and Clinical Practice published a 2013 animal study showing that lumbrokinase may help fight diabetic nephropathy, a kidney condition exacerbated by poor control over diabetes and high blood pressure conditions. The mechanism reportedly involved specific enzymes thought to play a role in kidney damage.28

• Heart health — An animal study published in the Chinese journal Acta Pharmaceutica Sinica29 noted that lumbrokinase may shield your heart health against myocardial ischemia.

As for angina, one clinical study involved 10 patients with coronary artery disease and “stable angina.” Each was given a one-month regimen of lumbrokinase with their standard medical therapy. Myocardial perfusion imaging (MPI) was performed before and after the treatment period, after which six of the 10 angina patients showed improvement, as did an average of 38 percent of those with ischemia, both assessed by validated indicators.30

Multipurpose Lumbrokinase Also Tapped as a Remedy for Lyme Disease

As previously noted, the possibilities for lumbrokinase are far-reaching, both as an enzyme with direct and indirect fibrinolytic effects, and as an anticoagulant due to its ability to inhibit platelet functions. Further, it may “minimize angina attack frequency (and) the need for nitroglycerine.”31

Potential applications include circulatory conditions, deep venous thrombosis, essential hypertension, vascular dementia and the prevention or treatment of cancer-associated thromboembolism. Evidence also suggests that while animal models and in vitro research have shown the compound inhibited stomach cancer growth and liver cancer metastasis, similar lumbrokinase successes may be found in human studies.32

Other noteworthy areas of lumbrokinase research indicate that it may improve diabetic nephropathy33 and diabetic neuropathy,34 prevent the damage to heart cells from secondhand smoke35 and play a role in promoting bone repair and regeneration.33

While prevention is now recognized as the best way to circumvent the often debilitating problems associated with Lyme disease (a bacterial infection caused by spirochete, which are corkscrew-shaped bacterium spread by ticks), those who have it have found the symptoms to mimic such maladies as chronic fatigue syndrome, multiple sclerosis, depression and fibromyalgia.

However, lumbrokinase has been identified as a valuable treatment. Experts believe it can penetrate thick clumps of gut bacteria known as biofilms, one of several challenging factors involved with Lyme, as the bacteria are able to hide, feed and replicate unstopped by antimicrobial medications.34,35

That lumbrokinase is helpful in breaking down fibrinogen is an important aspect of Lyme treatment because the pathogenic bacteria use fibrinogen, convert it to fibrin and thereby strengthen their network.36 Naturopathic doctor Nicola Ducharme asserts:

“Biofilm is an important consideration in Lyme treatment. I believe that every patient should address biofilms, especially when a patient is not improving the way we would expect them to. Having those bacteria trapped in gooey stuff that antimicrobials and immune cells can’t get to could be a major factor hindering progress in treatment.”37

Lumbrokinase: Supplement, Pharmaceutical and Traditional Chinese Medicine

Intrinsic in the treatment is the fact that lumbrokinase can help break down fibrinogen. It’s interesting to note that dry earthworm powder taken as an oral supplement has been clinically tested and shown to support healthy blood circulation. A number of products containing it, mostly sold in Asian countries, are taken as nutritional supplements, pharmaceutical products and some as Traditional Chinese Medicine.

Whether you’re thinking about exploring lumbrokinase for your heart or in the treatment of Lyme disease, make sure the brand you choose is high-quality and from a reputable source. Keep in mind that lumbrokinase supplements can be expensive and vary in enzymatic strength, which is one reason a doctor’s involvement is advised.

Taking lumbrokinase with a medication that thins your blood can be risky due to interference with the normal clotting process, and lead to bleeding.38 Pregnant women, nursing mothers and children also shouldn’t take it.

While there are concerns that lumbrokinase use may trigger such side effects as nausea, bloating, diarrhea, skin rash and allergic reactions, Chinese studies noted that such symptoms affected only .07 percent to 3 percent of the individuals taking it.39 Further:

“To date, virtually all of the researchers who have ever studied or published on lumbrokinase concluded that it is a well-tolerated and very safe fibrinolytic enzyme preparation.”40

from Articles http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2019/03/18/lumbrokinase-for-heart-health.aspx source https://niapurenaturecom.tumblr.com/post/183534844766

[alleiradayne]

Bang Your Head (Cullen x F!Trevelyan Modern AU) Part 72

Catch up on the previous part - part 71 | ao3 Start from the beginning - part 1 | ao3

With Christmas upon them, Amallia panics about dinner, but Cullen knows exactly how to help her relax.

Notes: NSFW. And no, that is not how Cullen helps Amallia relax! (Not that Amallia minds). I’m sorry not sorry for this mostly plot-less bit of smut.

Hotter than the surface of the sun, Amallia wiped her brow dry as she triple-checked the pot on the stove while stirring the contents of the pan beside it. On the back burners, she kept sauces warm, the oven ticking down the minutes on a large ham. Four slow cookers took every outlet in the kitchen, two bubbling with sliced roast beef, a third keeping her signature red sauce and meatballs warm, and the fourth finishing the sweet potatoes.

Cullen had voiced his thoughts earlier that morning, insisting everything was under control, that the food would come out just fine, that everyone would love it and nobody would mind eating at a card table like they had at Harvest dinner. But no matter his reassurances, Amallia’s worry grew, and by mid-morning, she was a frantic mess.

It was around four o’clock when, as she mashed potatoes in a pot, her use of the masher growing furious by the second, that Cullen wrapped her up in his arms from behind and drew her away from the stove top.

“I think you should take a break, pup,” he muttered.

She shook her head in vehement disagreement. “No, I’m almost done, just … a few more minutes,” she protested. “I’m almost done.”

“I'll finish up,” he insisted, slipping the utensil from her fingers. “Why don’t you head to the bathroom and relax a little?”

She glared over her shoulder, finding a knowing smirk on his lips. He was up to something, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What did you do?” She slipped from his arms and made for the hallway with haste.

“Nothing you won’t love,” his muted voice followed.

When she rounded the corner to her bathroom, flickering shadows and dim candlelight engulfed her, an eerie orange glow that shimmered across the surface of bubbles that filled her tub like a million tiny diamonds.

“Oh, Rutherford, you tit.” An unbidden smirk creased her lips, try as she might to hide it. Damn that man, he knew her too well.

Her t-shirt fell to the floor followed by her pants and as she neared the tub, a waft of heather and sea salt and a hint of pine filled her nose. She inhaled with a deep breath, relishing in the crisp, refreshing aroma. With a measured step, her eyes fluttered shut as she slipped into the tub, one foot and then the other.

Easing to her bottom, she submerged to her chest, the foamy bubbles covering her to her collar bone. Hot, almost too hot, the water scalded her pale skin a bright pink in seconds, but that brief sting of heat as she settled into the bath passed into a soaking ease, drawing out every ache in her muscles and every worry in her mind.

Two hours later, she was refreshed, no longer smelling of her kitchen, her purple waves artfully blown dry, and her chosen dress for the evening – a deep emerald green – all buttoned but for a few between her shoulders. With one last check in the mirror, she stalked from the bathroom and returned to the kitchen, ready to resume command of the food.

“Cullen, I think I forgot to start the penne before I—” she paused when she found Cullen gaping as he stirred a pot of noodles. “What’s wrong?”

Like a starving cat, Cullen licked his lips as his eyes dropped to her plunging neckline, then turned back to the task at hand with a sharp flick of his head. His cheeks flushed red, though whether from embarrassment or the heat of the kitchen, Amallia couldn’t be sure.

“Nothing,” he managed through a strained whisper.

Amallia crossed the kitchen and turned her back to him. “I can’t reach.”

The reserved sigh that fell from his lips drew heated breath along the exposed skin of her spine, sending gooseflesh rippling along her arms. A dull clank startled her, head whipping about to find Cullen removing the pot of penne from the heat. Returning to her, deft fingers brushed the bare skin of her back, gliding higher until they reached a fixed button and unfastened it.

“You little shit, just—oh!”

The far counter met her hips with steadfast support as Cullen pressed into her. The urgency, the insistent need in his prying fingers and devouring lips sent a dizzying rush of arousal to her sex. There against the marble he pinned her, unfastening the remaining buttons up to her neck and grinding his length, still in his trousers, against her backside.

“Cullen, what—Maker’s breath, what are you doing?” she gasped, overwhelmed by his desire.

“I want you,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear and breath scalding her sensitive skin. A hand slipped into her dress, snaking to the front to cup a breast and tease her nipple to a taut peak. Andraste preserve her, but she wanted him, too, a soft mewling moan slipping past her lips. Losing herself in the torrential surge of their arousal, her hips rolled into him, wanting him as he wanted her.

“Please?”

Oh, how he must ache for her, the need cracking his voice as he begged. Gasps of his breath scalded her neck and the prying of his fingers tugged at her hip and pinched her breast. Each moan, each roll of his hips, each kiss from her neck to her shoulders washed over her in a relentless wave of lust, her eyes rolling closed as she drifted in that endless ocean of overwhelming sensation.

“Take me, Cullen,” she whispered with another roll of her hips, stroking his hardened length through their clothes.

He lifted the hem of her dress with a flick of his hand and the heat of the kitchen seared across the sensitive flesh of her ass. Cullen gripped one cheek, hand firm and hard, spreading her, and he moaned his own sound of desire, of want. His fingers pried at her underwear, dragging them down to her knees to reveal her flesh, and another growling moan rumbled from his chest as she arched her back, relishing her exposure. When his thumb ran over her seam, dragging through her arousal, she shuddered, a shiver of lust from head to toe.

She cried out in protest when both hands left her, but they were absent only a moment as Cullen freed his length from his pants. His heavy cock met her backside with a lewd smack as his hands returned to her hips, and she moaned, soft repeated sighs that left her lightheaded, so thrilled by his need to have her at that very moment in the Maker damned kitchen.

His hips withdrew and his length slid along her ass, the head falling to part her lips between aching thighs. Not a moment earlier, she’d been bone dry – she’d made sure of that. But now? It was his fault she was a sopping wet mess, arousal near to dripping from her core. Andraste’s tits, but he was good, so good at extracting the most exquisite pleasure from her, doing so as if he had known her for years.

Gasping for breath, Amallia moaned in anticipation, the pressure of his swollen cock at her center unbearable. Though the thought had been far from her mind only a moment earlier, she needed him, now, filling her to the brim with his thick manhood lest he deny her of further pleasure.

As if he could read her mind, a quick snap of his hips buried his cock in her cunt, his pelvis meeting her ass with a resounding slap and Amallia trembled with shock, crying out in a keening moan that faded as he withdrew.

It wasn’t the prettiest of lovemaking. Nor was it skilled or dexterous or even alluring. Cullen hunched over her back, one arm wrapping over her hip to tease her swollen clit, the other returning to her breast, fingers biting into the tender flesh and thumbing her pebbled peak. And he pounded into her with wild abandon, relentless in his need to have her, to fuck her, and she cried out to him, his name falling from her lips, repeated like a stanza from a song. He echoed with her name muttered like a prayer into the flesh of her neck, her shoulder, her back as his lips and tongue soothed her skin where his teeth found purchase.

More, she needed more, more of him, more of his whimpering moans, his fingers at her core, at her breast. She met his thrusts with her hips, wanting to feel him as deep as he could reach. Her legs trembled, knees weak with the rush of arousal unwinding in her core, spread so wide as he thrust. With her help, his length found the perfect depth, coaxing her climax to the surface from within, and it wasn’t long at all before she felt that unraveling just above her sex, splitting at the seams.

“Fuck me, Cullen!” she cried out, “I’m … yes! Harder!”

His rough grunts followed each slap of their bodies, punctuated by small whimpers of overstimulation, of overindulgence in their most base desires. The thought of him, a weak and trembling mess because of the way she felt on him, the way she fucked him, tipped her over the edge, that precarious precipice she knew so well, and she plunged head-first into euphoria.

Cullen curled against her back, the firm expanse of his chest flush with her skin and rutting into her with shorter, smaller thrusts as her walls flexed with her orgasm. Her voice carried whimpering moans, one after the other as pulsing waves of pleasure washed over her with each thrust of his hips. Hard, heavy twitches from his length slowed him, growls and grunts turning into whimpers and moans as his orgasm consumed him.

The heat of his seed filled her in another wave of pleasure; his first flex was the strongest, she’d learned, releasing almost all his seed in one long spurt. Then came the aftershocks, the shorter, softer flexes that released smaller beads of his fluids, and Amallia mewled her pleasure with his gasping moans, drawing out his pleasure for as long as possible.

When he slumped against her back, a forearm on the counter and a hand still grasping her breast, Amallia took a deep breath, easing herself down from her high. Cullen’s lips found her cheek, and she turned over her shoulder to meet him with a kiss so tender, she might have melted.

“I … don’t know what came over me,” he muttered as they parted and he withdrew, righting himself in his pants.

“I don’t either, but I loved it,” she said with a smirk as she straightened, replacing her underwear and smoothing her dress. With his hand in hers, she led them to her bedroom to clean up before guests arrived. “Next time,” she said over her shoulder, “don’t insist I bathe first. Now I have to take another shower. But I think you ought to join me.”

“As long as you’ll let me finish what I started,” he quipped as he followed.

Her imagination ran wild with possibilities. “I won’t turn down another orgasm, if that’s what you’re saying,” she retorted.

Cullen’s laughter was nothing short of confidence, a sound so rare Amallia vowed to hear it for the rest of her days.

[fionacoaton-blog]

BRCA1 - my story

From start to now I’m sat on my sofa while my 7months old son sleeps on me - not a usual event he just won’t settle today! So I thought I’d use this time to write down my journey in respect of my BRCA1 gene. For those of you who don’t know, BRCA1 (BReast CAncer susceptibility gene) means that the risk of developing breast cancer is at 60-90% and 40-60% of Ovarian cancer (source a beginners guide to BRCA1 and BRCA2). I have this mutation and found this out in the summer of 2013, this was a year on from being told by my dad that he has the mutation which was sparked from my Auntie Ann having breast and ovarian cancer. So the weekend of my 26th Birthday my dad and step mum had come to see me, we were going out for lunch but before we did my dad had something to tell me, I could tell it was something that was cutting him to the core as 1. It must have been tough telling me near my birthday (happy birthday you’re at a high risk of cancer) and 2. This was a parent telling someone he had made that perhaps part of his genetics could harm me. He pulled out a letter and began to explain to me what he’d been up to (blood tests/mammograms) and that he had tested positive for BRCA1 and that there was 50:50 chance of this being passed on to myself and my brother. Now the genetics counsellor told my dad to prepare for the worst, that this would rock my world and I would cry etc. But I didn’t cry, just took on board what he told me and immediately made the decision to also get tested. Looking back it was wasn’t a shock and I have no idea why I had such a pragmatic view on something so life changing! Now I had to wait to be tested myself. The test is a series of blood tests and talks with a genetic counsellor, they explain all the options available to you if the tests come back positive. I believe I had 3 trips to see the counsellor and on the third was results day. I had decided I already had the gene, I just knew. The counsellor sat me and my husband down in her office and was pretty dead pan - basically opened a folder and said ‘you have tested positive for BRCA1. It’s not the type of thing to can put a fluffy coating on. I didn’t feel shocked, I didn’t feel sad - I felt lucky. From that day I had been given a gift, something that so many men and women haven’t been given. I was put a waiting list for Nottingham City Hospital to meet Mr R D MacMillan who had been highly recommended to me. This takes us to late spring 2013. I had my initial consultation and it was decided that I would have a breast reduction to start which would save parts of my breast followed by a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. In the consultation I was shown the implants, could ask every question ever, even the most silliest like would I be able to sleep on my front with implants. My first surgery, looking back, is a blip! I went, I had the reduction and all I can remember is being at home itching to get back to work as I wanted normality. I have no idea why I can’t remember a lot of detail of the first surgery? I do remember the bruising which was a beautiful rainbow of purple and yellow! After this surgery I had gone from a 34ee to a 34c and a wonderful little lollipop scar. This was medal number one. A tick in the box and step closer to deactivating a ticking time bomb. Prior to surgery my surgeon advised me to really really moisturise, so everyday I would cake myself in soap and glory and twice a week exfoliate like a demon! Along with this I was exercising and eating a well balanced diet - which I stand by that hugely helped in my recovery! Following my post surgery check up I placed on the waiting list for operation number 2, the big one! In the lead up to the surgery I made it my focus to be able to run 5k, not a lot to some people but this was a big deal for me, I’d been given a gift of knowing how dangerous my body could be so I wanted to be as fit and as strong as I could get before surgery because this would help with recovery afterwards. So after 2months of practise I got to 5k!! A very proud moment in my life, my own little goal chosen by me and I met it! This was actually for race for life which the race was after my surgery so I wanted to know I could run is before as I most definitely wouldn’t be able to run it after - but I’ll get to that later. The big one, my opportunity to save my life - in part anyway. God the emotions of this breaks me even today. I lived an hour and a half away from the hospital and we’d made the decision to get up early and go over the same day. It was a beautiful spring morning and we got to see the sun rise, but I felt numb and anxious. I knew the hospital, I knew the surgeons and I knew what the pre surgery room looked like, yet none of this comforted me. I had my husband with me and my mum and step dad. My mum helped me put on my gown and my special anti blood clot socks (that was like stuffing sausages!) The busy hive of the ward kept me busy once we were there, with my husband holding my hand and always making me laugh! I was taken to the exam room to be drawn on (felt like I was in an episode of nip/tuck) now that certainly took my mind off the surgery as the room was filled with my surgeon, his junior, an anaesthetist, and 7 junior doctors - there I am at 27 with my boobs out in front of a bunch of strangers being drawn on and photographs being taken! Once that was done I was waiting to go down the theatre, I was second in the list. In those moments of waiting every second felt like an hour! The porter came to get me mid morning and off we went, my husband holding my hand, my mum and step dad pottering along with me on the trolley. I got loving kisses and then I was on my own. I was placed in front of a tv on the trolley while I waiting for them to be ready for me, this was so surreal - there is was sat in a bed I’d just been wheeled from one place another watching homes under the hammer! I always struggle to wake up from surgery and this time was just the same, all I remember is being so so hot and the nurses giggling to me about my underwear choice which made me smile but didn’t cool me down but it made me smile. So that was it, it had been done! I no longer had danger boobs, instead I had implants, with no sensation and drains. Ah! My beautiful drains! These are to collect fluid from the surgery sight and I carried them around with me in little bags for almost 2 weeks! My husband kindly emptied them everyday and measured the amount of fluid and logged it for me. The first few weeks post surgery were very painful, it felt like I had an elephant on my chest and a knife in my back. I couldn’t get comfortable which meant I couldn’t sleep which was causing cramp in my back. I remember we tried to get me comfy on the floor in our living room - WORST. DECISION. EVER!! I cannot even describe what that felt like, I’ve since had a baby and that wasn’t even as nearly as painful! It felt maybe like my whole upper body was in a vice but worse? When it was time to have the drains taken out we went back to Nottingham, the main reason for having them out was not only the fluid being at a low level but the left side where the tube was entering my body had started to leak! Having the drain out wasn’t a comfortable experience, but after the last few weeks it was lovely to get them out as I didn’t have to fight with the spaghetti tubing! Only advice I can give on this is listen the the nurse extracting the drains, she will tell you when to breath so that she can remove the drain in the quickest movement possible. After 3 weeks it was time to get moving again, I started with little walks around the block which made me feel very vulnerable, in a sense that I was only 21days post op and I was still recovering and the further away from my house I was if anything’s happened to me (like fainting) I wasn’t in a comfortable environment. But this started to make me better, I was moving and getting fresh air! And I think at this point I could have a proper shower and wash my hair (not having my husband attempt to wash my hair - I love you Tom but don’t give up the day job!) 5 weeks post surgery I did a 5k walk for race for life, this was signed up to before I’d been given a date for surgery and I was determined to do it with my best friend Nicky. We did it, we nattered there whole way round and we’re so humbled by every one there. She was there in memory of her mum and I was there for my aunty and my genetics. After achieving that little milestone I vowed to get back to getting back to fittest I could be with running and eating a non processed food diet (ok ok I still had the odd treat but I got fit and healthy). 6 months post - this was the hardest part, it was over for everyone else they had been on the journey with me up until the surgery and the recovery - so for them I’d done it and I was Fiona again. But I didn’t feel like Fiona, I didn’t know whose body I was in, I wasn’t prepared for this feeling. I’d had the realisation of what I had been through and it scared me and broke my heart, I’d made such a huge decision and been extremely pragmatic about the whole journey that this range of emotions completely took me by surprise. I felt lost and alone. Which is why I am writing this. For anyone who feels lost and alone about cancer or genetics you are not alone, even when you feel like your sat in a dark room (like I felt) there will always be someone there to turn I light on for you even it’s a dim light or a slow burner - it’s there. Try and find a positive and then hold on to that as that will get you through. This is my journey where I have felt every emotion going, I have only cried I few times about it all, as like I’ve said before this is gift being told you can save yourself to the best of your ability. I was extremely lucky to be part of the 2016 BCAM campaign with Marks and Spencer’s and Breast Cancer Now (which filled me with both guilt and gratitude) I felt guilty as I hadn’t had cancer, I didn’t know what the medication and chemo does to you, I hadn’t lost my hair and I hadn’t an enduring road ahead of me of further medication and test and I was grateful to have these wonderful group of inspirational women being brought into my life to make me realise how lucky I really am. They are strong women who are basically getting on with life as they also know how precious life really is. Anyone being given the opportunity to get BRCA tested, do it, why wouldn’t you do it? If I sat and give you a box and said inside this box is a way to help protect your life would take it, and that’s what knowing is, a way to preserve what you have. My journey isn’t over yet, at some point I’ll be back at hospital to have my ovaries removed as they are also little bombs that could go off but for now that’s at the door and I’m enjoying being a new mummy and a wife and focusing on what makes me happy.

[damagedsermon7578]

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