#i don’t feel like i can justify sending anyone home :|

[lil-quinnie]

When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.

part i part ii part iii

Stepdad!Eddie x F!reader

Warnings: STEPCEST, AGE GAP (Eddie's midles 40s and Reader is middle 20s), lil angst, penetrative sex, oral sex, dom!eddie

Summary: After all these months you're over Eddie, aren't you?

w/c: 5977

picture of Eddie by: @edzmunson86

Eddie rushed inside the house, he swear he have climb the stairs in just one step trying to avoid a close door, trying to reach that fucking key, trying to reach the ticket of his freedom.

His fists were the first thing to bang at the door, loud and scary was the sound of Eddie's knuckles smashing against the thin wood of the door.

"open this damn door Nadia, i swear to god! this is crazy, even for you!!" the man shouted with all lungs, twisting and pulling the door knob.

"I give you the key and what? you are gonna run after my fucking daughter? MY HUSBAND AND MY DAUGHTER? What is wrong with you Eddie?" she shouted back, angrily. 

"YOU!" he shouted louder, his head resting at the door while his fists slid through the cold wood of the door. He could feel all his muscles trembling inside his body, the hot anger crawling up his throat. The small hallway felt cold, felt big, felt crowded and empty at the same time, everything was turling around the man;

"I can't Nadia, I can't do it anymore, you took everything from me." he said with tremble in his voice. "My pride, my dignity... what else do you want?" His body still glued to the door, pushing with all the strength his slender body had. "I give you everything, anything you want... just let me go, please Nadia, i beg you"

"WHY HER? YOU FUCKING PSYCO! WAS IT SOME KIND OF SADISTIC REVENGE FOR THE TIME I CHEAT ON YOU?! FUCK YOU EDWARD, YOU ARE DISGUSTING." The woman opened the door, making Eddie fall inside to the bedroom's floor. "I hope you and that little whore burn in hell for all the harm and humiliation you are making me pass." 

The woman walked past her (ex)husband, looking on with disdain as she dropped the key into Eddie's lap. "Tell her that she doesn't have a mother anymore".  Eddie jumped up off the ground, consumed by the rage and hatred stored in his chest from so many years of abuse, his hand circled the woman's wrist, handling it like a doll, tucking her against the thin bedroom wall. "Like she ever have had a mother before that" he spad

"Leave her out of this" "Let me go your bastard" Nádia screamed full lungs now "if it weren't for her it would be anyone else who spends even a little time with me." he admitted  "This was all your fault, your fault you hear me!? I tried SO hard to be who you wanted me to be…" Eddie pauses his words, thinking carefully about his next words. “I tried everything for you but in the end Nadia, any other man willing to get in your pants was better than me.”

Eddie let go of his wife's arm and walked through the living room , taking one last look at the house he called home.

Nadia remained static, pressed against the wall without any reaction. She didn't try to deny it or justify herself, she just let the tears flow as she listened to her ex-husband going down the stairs. “I will send the divorce papers, don’t worry, I don’t want NOTHING from you” . That being said, he slammed the door and turned the car on, driving as far as he can from the bad memories.

-

Four months, that was the time it took for Eddie to begin to act like the man Wayne always wanted him to be, he thought.  In four months Eddie hasn't allowed himself to think about you, even when the fresh smell of your shampoo clung to the pillow he took the night he left. 

He didn't think about you when some old car passed on the street and made the same noise as your car, he also didn't think about you on lonely nights, where he went over and over again the last time he saw you.

Eddie didn't allow himself to think about you, but it was the only thing he did outside of automatic.

Now, four months later in some other small town not so close to Indiana, Eddie was starting to feel at home again.

He got up every morning at 6 am, smoked a joint while still making coffee in his boxers, a cold shower and a cigarette before driving to tom's shop, some maintenance and oil changes, on a busy day, a flat tire perhaps...

Eddie liked the peace, the calm that this unknown city brought, it almost felt like home, almost...

Every night before going to bed, Eddie would try to occupy his mind with whatever hobby would keep him from thinking about you, strumming a few notes on his guitar, wasting time at a random bar, watching some bad movie... but as soon as his body snuggled into the mattress the tightness in his heart appeared.

The image of your pink face, flushed from crying flashed in his head, the sound of your trembling voice echoed in his ears. 

He could taste the gall of your kiss burning on his lips every night before he went to sleep, Eddie's last thought before his body shut down was always you, you and where you were, if you were okay and if you thought about him as much as he thought about you.

The older man needed a new hobby, one that took longer than an evening to bore him.

"back to reading" he thought as he went through his morning routine.

-

Across town, you weren't doing much better than your ex-stepdad. 

After that night, you drove nine hours back home, through the sea of tears that fell from your eyes. 

You didn't believe that someone could die from having a broken heart but you could have sworn your whole body ached, your head was spinning and you could feel every piece of your heart breaking with every good memory that popped into your head like pop-up in a website of dubious origins.

You could understand why Eddie chose your mother.

Damn!! they've been married for years... 

The most frustrating thing of all for you was that you let the fantasy go so far, "too far" you think.

The nights since then were all sleepless, you were lost in a tornado of feelings, anger, fear, hate, loneliness...

Loneliness, on nights like this you dreamed of being in the arms of your abominable stepfather.At the same time you wanted to grab the collar of that stupid leather jacket and shake it until he gave you an answer, a way out of the whole situation he helped create. 

Anything to feel his touch, one last time. Between sighs and tossing and turning in bed, sleep came and took all your sadness with it.

10 AM, the warm morning sun broke down in rays as it met the windowpane, you could see specks of dust look like confetti dancing in the sunlight and instantly disappear into the icy shadow of another shelf.

The greatness of small things began to be part of your day-to-day life, the coffee smoke and the way it clouded just the left lens of your glasses, how the roof tiles creaked in the wind…

Today's distraction was an old oak floorboard right under your foot that made an irritating noise every time you made any movement. Convinced that fixing the squeaky floor was more important than actually doing your job, you didn't bother getting up to answer the gruff voice coming from the other side of the counter.

"Science fiction and fantasy?" the voice asked prolonging the last syllable of the sentence, "aisle 7, teenager left shelf and adult right, although I can't see the difference" you said and he could feel your mocking tone "a hard-ha" the voice said from further away from your counter.

You couldn't have cared less for the tone of the grumpy customer, too focused on the loose floor, well… the fixed floor now.

You pushed your cart full of boxes with new books by the corridors, this was the most anticipated moment of the week for you. Discover the new titles that will grace the shelves for the next few weeks.

Lately the task has become more and more difficult, your back started to hurt whenever you squatted down, your energy seemed to have been drained and the wobbly legs were part of the routine by this point.

Lost among the books, sorting boxes by genre and author, a forced cough diverted your attention to the back of a customer who had already gotten on your nerves. With a box in your arms you hurried to meet the tall man "Sorry sir, sometimes I get stuck on my own..." the sentence died in the back of your throat when you saw those same brown eyes already burning through your skin.

"Oh! fuck no!" you said throwing the box on the floor and running behind the nearest aisle of shelves. 

Your head was spinning and the air wouldn't enter your nose, you could physically feel your throat closing with the urge to cry. Ringed fingers circled your wrist, drawing your attention back. Those big brown eyes reflecting your own expression through his glazed eyes. 

No words were exchanged for a few moments, tears running freely down your face, out of shame and guilt. You tried to release your arm from his embrace "stop" he pleaded low, holding you tighter.

This just made you pull his arm away more fervently "let me go Eddie" you shouted, causing him to speak louder "I SAID , STOP", making you stop immediately, never having seen him angry.

"What the fuck? I'm not a monster, you don't need to run from me" Eddie said, letting go of your arm slowly, never taking his gaze away from yours.

"I don't know if I agree with that" you said under a sigh, making the man step closer. His perfume was just the way you remembered without the usual weed smell, hair in a loose bun and the typical work suit, you miss him. 

Every part of your body was drawn to his body heat, and like a moth you found yourself orbiting in the light that was Eddie Munson in your life.

"Let's talk,'' he pleaded with his eyes, but his voice was always firm. "Let me tell you wha…" "No eddie'' you said, cutting the older man's sentence in half. “I have to go back to work." 

The look in his eyes made you feel like a prey, he walked to the front door and locked it, flipping the sign to “close”. 

"I'll deal with your boss later if I have to," the man's voice was gruff, sending shivers down your spine.

"So…" he said, leaning his elbows against the counter that barricaded you from him. "Let's talk?" throwing that smile of someone who knew he had won the first battle.

"Okay" you said between sighs, "but not here" you looked around the bookstore, without a soul inside "I can't lose this job" you finished the sentence with your eyes glued to the piece of paper you were fiddling with fingers.

Eddie felt a sharp pang in his heart, seeing you so vulnerable and scared like that, reminded him of that look. 

The look that has haunted him for the last who knows how many days.

"Sure, sure babe, I mean…sure, yeah" 

Eddie wrote down his new address on a piece of paper lying on the counter, touching his fingers to yours as he handed it to you. "What time do you close?" he asked, not looking away from your face.

You brought your hand back close to your own body quickly, pretending not to notice how his warm touch on your skin made your heart burn; 

"6 pm" 

"deal"

 he said, turning his back and walking away without giving any explanation.

The rest of the day dragged on without you knowing if that had really happened or if it was just your mind playing another trick on you. It wouldn't be the first time.

In the first few months after he broke your heart, you saw Eddie everywhere… in the market, in the movies, between the shelves of endless books and in your deepest dreams, he was always there.

A few other customers, books lined up alphabetically bringing that kind of instant peace, the rumble of cars driving down the busy avenue and soon the sun had almost gone down.

You followed your routine religiously, as if a certain metalhead didn't exist, like you had all these months.

5:20 pm You put on your jacket and took your hair out of the bun that trapped the blood circulation in your head.

5:30 pm You turned off all the lights and turned off the computers one by one. adjusting the chairs and some magazines in the children's area.

5:50 pm you played with the paper that your stepfather gave you, you looked in the mirror, fat tears ran down your tired face, remembering everything you went through because of such a forbidden love, deciding that you would not go through with it again, deciding to go home. Nothing he could possibly say would change the course of this whole situation.

6:10 pm three blocks away from your work, walking through that freezing early evening wind making the sensitive skin of your face flush and all the lights turning into rays by the refraction of your tears, making it even more difficult to see ...

The familiar roar of Eddie's pick-up engine rumbling caused you to stop in your tracks, the weight of his ringed hand was what made you turn around, looking directly into those deep brown eyes for the first time since back that night. 

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart", his husky voice snapped you out of your trance, everything in that moment happened slowly, his hand guiding you to the passenger side of his pick-up, the warmth of his touch radiating down your waist everytime he squeezed your exposed skin, the smell of his perfume making you feel dizzy, the soft skin of his tattooed forearms against your cleavage as he fastened your seat belt.

The music faded in the background as Eddie drove down the small town's dimly lit road, pulling deeper and deeper into the outer part of town, stopping in a clearing that could see all the lights of the small town. He turned off the car and sighed deeply, before going down and opening the door for you

"I..I thought a neutral place would make you feel more comfortable but halfway I realized it wasn't such a good idea a...neutral place like… that" he said in a sheepish tone.

Nothing, no reaction, not bewilderment or relief or anything, nothing was what you offered the older man. Seeing that he couldn't even make a crack in the wall you created against him, Eddie decided to get straight to the point.

The city lights made his jacket buttons glow in a yellowish hue, the same hue made his eyes burn whenever your gazes met.

"Vulnerable" he thought when he saw your figure huddled in on itself whenever the wind blew a little colder. 

"I fucked up" he said over a sigh "I know I fucked it up", his work boots squeaked against the stony ground, with each step he took towards you "I know I have no rights to ask you anything" he stopped in front of you, his hands slid over your crossed arms, causing your posture to relax a little and tense up even more a mere seconds later.

You thought about saying how much harm he did to you, you wanted to say that he broke your heart so badly that you could feel every day the physical effects that broken heart caused you. 

You wanted to say that he ruined everyone else for you, that no one made the butterflies in your stomach fly as high as he did, that you couldn't trust anyone anymore because you were afraid that in the end you would be sent away again and again, just like he did, but you stayed quiet. 

The months of remorse and rehearsed lines were silent when noticing the wet glint in the older man's eyes, he squeezed your arm lightly, trying to get your attention, without success. "I'm so sorry sweetheart" 

"I" you started the sentence as a whisper, months thinking about what you would say and here you were, holding on so you wouldn't sink into the arms of the man who hurt you so badly "I can't do this Eddie, you hurted me so much" 

your trembling voice betrayed you, it was SO hard to say it as was for the older man to hear such harsh words coming out of your sweet mouth. 

"Please. let me fix things" 

Your gaze never met his, not on purpose at least.  It was too humiliating, too painful to look at him. It had been months since his face haunted all your dreams, you lost several nights of sleep wondering what you would say when you were facing him again. 

Eddie's hand was now caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears you were reluctant to let fall "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I didn't know what to do at the time, I panicked" , his hand tightened on your hoodie sleeve, as if you were going to bolt at any moment.

"Please. let me fix things" he said, pulling your body closer to his, "I left her" he said, still moving your bodies closer together "on the same day, I mean" he said with his eyes glued on the floor, avoiding your expression of confusion.

“I wanted to apologize on the same day, that look you gave me... damn love, I can't get the way you looked at me out of my head"

"Eddie, take me home please" you cried

"Babe, please I..." 

"Please eddie" you managed to speak between your cries, he just nodded.

-

The drive back to your small apartment was silent, except for sniffles from both you and the older man. Only the porch light illuminated the great darkness around your house, before going out of the car, you looked one last time at the man

"You know, eddie" making his eyes stick to yours, without a shred of hope “I could've forgiven you, if you had come after me,at all, you never came”,  you could no longer control what you are feeling, it was a self-control that you still didn't have, the words were curling up in a high tone that you started screaming at him 

"You let me think I was just a FUCKTOY to you, that I was a WHORE for…"  

you sobbed  "For loving you, and believing that deep inside your black soul, you cared about me either, and I was ok with it, I’m SO stupid" you said jumping out of the parked car without saying goodbye.

Your keys jingled  against the locked door ‘cause of your trembling hands. 

You just wanted to get inside your house and escape that nightmare. The sound of the door unlocking brought you relief, so focused on getting out of the cold air, you didn't hear Eddie's car door slam shut, the quick steps against the dew-wet grass, the labored breathing as if he had forgotten how to do it.

You opened your door enough for your body to fit through the gap, Eddie's heavy hand opened the door all the way, pressing you against it as he closed "What did you say?" his face contorted.

Hands pinning you against the wall, blurred vision due to tears prevented you from seeing the pained face of that man who held you as if his life depended on it "What did you just say? please sweetheart" 

his hands let go of your arm, you knew his fingerprints would be all over your sensitive skin the other day

"I... I could have forgiven you if, if you" 

you started to say still choking on the words 

"Not that, not that part" he interrupted you

"oh..i said i said… it doesn’t matter what I said anymore” your voice sounds weak on the older man’s ears  “you’re losing her again Munson” “look at her eyes, is the same look as that fucking day” “you’re losing her, you’re gonna lose her again, man up man up man up, shit shit shit”, 

Eddie's thoughts were running in circles in his head, he was scared, frustrated, nervous...the words were out of his mouth before he realized what he said. His eyes widened, you could feel your mouth going dry, your knees were shaking and you could pass out at any moment “I loved you”, he said softly “I still do”.

You could feel the older man's slight discomfort as he let those words slip out, the vulnerability caused Eddie Munson physical pain but he decided you deserved to know how much he missed you too, how much he thought of you every day, how he searched for you through every town he passed.

He knew you lived nine hours away from the house of horrors, but he didn't know which city, which state... so for months he searched for you to no avail, and as a sick joke of the universe, when he stopped looking for you... the universe sends you with your cute glasses and ponytail holding a box of several copies of lord of the rings, so for this gift from the universe, for you, Eddie has decided to be vulnerable.

Eddie decided to be vulnerable.

"I know you felt it too" he said in a broken voice, your heart shattered knowing exactly what he was talking about "Before it happened..before Nadia walked into the kitchen" the man walked across the room from your grip as if he already frequented your house for years, stopping at the window and lighting a cigarette, inhaling deeply before continuing.

"We made love" his voice shook when pronouncing the word love. 

The word that hadn't been part of Eddie's vocabulary for months, used so many times in the short time you've been around "I know you felt it too, i know you did" he swallowed again, resting his free hand on the window sill, his curls making a curtain , hiding the tears that shyly rolled down Eddie's icy face.

"Damn, I never felt whole again after that day" he threw his cigarette butt out the window "I love you, I loved you that day and I still do." The eyes that avoided yours at all costs now burned holes into your skin "say something babe, anything" he begged with a trembling voice.

“Fuck it” you said.

Your steps started slow and evolved into a run towards the older man, in a jump your legs passed by his waist, while you held the man's face with both hands, as if he were the most precious treasure in the world, your eyes filled with tears. matched yours.

The little lines at the edges of Eddie's eyes crinkled as he smiled. Kissing him was awkward, her forehead meeting her forehead harder than intended, nose brushing his, lips hurried and hungry chasing his "I've missed you so much, beautiful." He whispered every time their lips met in awkward kisses.

His shirt rose a little more each time his ex-stepfather's hands explored a part of his body that had not been touched for so long, that trembled for him.

His hands trailed down your exposed skin to your hips, giving you enough security to step off his lap. Eddie's lips traveled down to your neck, sucking your pulse between his teeth, leaving galaxy marks across your sensitive skin. "I missed those little noises you make for me…just for me, right?" his possessive tone made a puddle of excitement in your panties, you could only moan in response "good girl" he said. You could feel his smile against your exposed neck.

Eddie guided your bodies to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. 

You could feel his erection pressed against your thigh, he could feel the heat radiating from his crotch causing the older man's heavy hands to press you against his hard cock.

"Fuck" he whispered as you rubbed your desperate little pussy on the man below you "Eddie...please, need more" 

"oh! poor little thing" he laid his back gently on the sofa "so needy for daddy" he rolled his hips against yours causing you to moan desperately "please Eddie I miss you so much" he got between your legs open, forcing his cock against her wet lips "Please what girl? Use your words for Daddy, will you?" his mouth trailed kisses down the plumpness of her breast, nibbling her nipple through her thin T-shirt.

"I want you to make me feel good daddy please" your hips ground into Eddie's thigh causing delicious friction where you need it most "So desperate for my cock" the man's hands gripped tightly around your waist helping you to build up a rhythm until you’re moaning in his ear just from rubbing your covered pussy against him.

"I can't wait to fuck that little pussy of yours," he said, pressing his lips to yours. He kissed you so deep and slow you saw stars every time his tongue slid over yours, Eddie had a lot of addictions and he just found the most intoxicating one of them all:Your taste.

Your hands roamed the broad back of the man you dreamed of so many nights, Eddie's thin waist served as a passage for your hands to reach the man's chest, which was hitting hard against your soft hand "are you sure ‘bout it, baby girl?" the low voice at the foot of your ear brought you back to reality.

All of reality and the burdens of such a forbidden romance started to fall on your back, like a piñata you could feel your heart being crushed by the harsh and sad reality again.

 you were about to turn your back and run as far as you could , when the older man's gentle hand cupped your face, bringing your gaze and full attention to him "Because if you're… you’re sure, I'll never let you slip through my fingers again"

Eddie's eyes never left your face, time passed slowly as your head spun around the words he so passionately offered you "I will never let you slip through my fingers again".

Your fingers tentatively tucked some of his curls behind his ear, "so pretty", you said as your hand brought the man's face closer to yours.

Spellbound by your touch, he relinquished his power to you, tired of fighting the urge to be yours. 

Your lips lightly brushed against his, testing to what extent the command was truly you.

Your full lips kissed Eddie tenderly, asking for more access each time he deepened the kiss. Eddie's hands, once rigid on your body, now caressed you with love. 

The kiss was without prey, unlike all the others you've had. Your hands caressed his face and he embraced you. 

Eddie was a mess underneath you, his hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The man was afraid it was another one of the dreams he's had all these months and that you were going to run away from him at any moment.

"Can I take care of you, Daddy?" you asked in your sweetest voice, his adam's apple bobbed up and down as if he was swallowing the words before answering you "you...you don't have to" he said, admiring you on your knees in front of him, eyes almost begging for Eddie's dick. "please daddy i missed him"

Your fingers wandered through the zipper of the Man's pants, squeezing his erect member every now and then, drawing hisses from his mouth. You didn't wait for him to answer, letting his pants fall free to the floor.

Your icy hands on Eddie's warm skin made him shiver as you slowly ran your fingers through the man's leg hair to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down at the same speed "fuck, you are so big daddy" , you said jerking off the length of his cock, giving light cat licks in his tip, tasting all his precum.

"Oh! fuck. No teasing doll" he would mutter as you played with the tip of his cock, alternating between licking and sucking. His eyes were glazed over your face, "you are so pretty with your mouth full" he said, taking his hand to your hair, stroking it "my pretty girl" hand now behind your skull, fingers pressing your head against his extremely hard member.

“shhh, i know i know, you can take it, open wide for me baby” he slam his dick further down your trough, you whined around his big cock while he fuck your mouth in such delicious way. “oh! fuckfuckfuck” his contorted face made your thighs clenching together “such a good girl for me” his hands holding firmly around your neck, he could feel his bulge on the beginning of your throat with his thumbs.  

He pulled his dick out of your mouth still circling the tip around your rosy plush lips. Your cunt was aching, screaming for attention from the man who had you in his palms.

“Please, please daddy, i need more” you cried, already cock drunk, all dumb and needy and Eddie loved it. 

Eddie stroked your face and smirked "look at you" he pinched your face lightly "all dumb for my dick" he forced your mouth into a pout, forcing your lips open and spitting into your mouth "swallow" he said , the demanding tone in his voice had you moaning low before swallowing, "such a good girl for me, a little bitch who needs daddy's dick."

Eddie pulled you up, gently sitting you down on the couch.

"Daddy" you almost cried for the absence of his touch "shh shh shh, daddy is here now" he kissed your neck "I'll take care of you" his hands grabbed your body, slowly kneeling down in front of you.

He pulled some of his hair back into a loose bun, placing several kisses on your inner thigh, the heat in the pit of your belly increasing each kiss closer to her center. He sniffed your pussy over your panties "I missed your smell baby girl" he said before ripping off your panties like a wild animal.

He sank his full lips to your pussy, placing several kisses before sinking his tongue between your folds, collecting all the arousal on the tip of his tongue. Your hands scrambled through Eddie's curls, forcing his face against you "fuck daddy, just like that".

Eddie sucked your clit frantically, eliciting the most beautiful moans from your mouth, his eyes rolled back when you felt the first finger enter your tight hole, entering easily with the second finger "fuck, you’re so tight sweet angel" he said between sucks on your clit, "that's...to much daddy, I'm going to come" you moaned rubbing your pussy desperately on the older man's face

"Do that, cum all over my face" he praised you while increasing the pace of his finger thrusts, "cum for me princess, give it all to me", you pulled Eddie's hair hard, pulling him away from your pussy swollen, feeling the orgasm washing over your body.

Eddie took his fingers out of your tight pussy slowly, bringing them to his mouth lapping up all your juices before giving you the deepest kiss you'd ever shared, you could taste your sweet on the man's tongue.

Despite your wobbly legs, you kneel down in front of the man. Two of your hands went up his thigh until they reached the zipper of his pants "what are you doing, honey?" he asked, bringing his callused hands up to your face, forcing your gaze into his "returning the favor" you said weakly.

Eddie's fingers circled your lips, forcing his thumb inside your mouth "as much as I miss that mouth of yours" he removed his finger causing a "pop" noise from your lips "I need to be inside you".

In one movement he pulled you off the floor and laid you down on the couch again, quickly undoing his pants and boxers. You could feel Eddie's hard cock against your soft skin, his mouth attacking your neck and cleavage "can I take that off you?" he said holding the hem of your shirt, you just nodded and he pulled the shirt tight, leaving your perfect breasts exposed to him.

He watched your figure for a few minutes, admiring every part of your body completely exposed. "Look at you" he whispered contouring your body with his fingertips "so beautiful for me", you felt your cheek burning at the same intensity as your center burned.

"Please Daddy" you begged.

Eddie forced himself between your legs, spreading them gently with his hand on your knee. With his free hand he jerked his length, collecting your arousal with the pink head of his cock.

He slowly thrust inch by inch of thick cock inside your pussy, the sensation of enlargement was deliciously burning your walls, once all inside you, Eddie let out a brutal moan "oh! holly...mother of god fuckfuck", the man's lack of movement had you buckle your hips against his cock "greedy, huh?"

He started to fuck you, his body all over yours, your world felt complete with you connected.

His cock slowly fucked you as Eddie whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You became a puddle in the hand of the man who months ago broke your heart.

His cock assaulted your little hole with fervor. you could feel the head of his cock opening your walls, creating space to accommodate his thick cock. You could feel it, just like that night, Eddie was making love to you.

No rush or fear of someone opening the door, and for that moment, that love didn't seem so forbidden. He pulled you out of your thoughts with his thumb on your clit, massaging in the same rhythm as he was fucking you "cum for me again baby I know you can" he kept abusing you until you smeared his cock all over with your cum "fuck, hot as fuck" he worshiped you as he fucked you for your orgasm.

Eddie sat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, your back against his sweaty chest.

He kissed your neck and nibbled lovingly "Do you want to return the favor, baby girl?" he whispered in your ear, you stupidly agreed, "sit on daddy's cock" he guided you to his cock by the waist "make daddy cum" and sunk your pussy into his cock.

You moaned loudly, starting to sit awkwardly on your ex-stepdad's cock trying to adjust the position, looking for more support.

He held you by the waist giving you all the support you needed to fuck your pussy on his dick, Eddie was already a mess underneath you "where...where can I come?" he cooed "inside I want to feel you oozing please daddy" you sat more fervently as he writhed trying not to come yet "fill my pussy with cum daddy" you kept begging.

Eddie slammed into you, spilling all of your mingled fluid down his quivering thigh.

You settled into the older man's lap, hissing as his cock left a void in his pussy.

You held his face with both hands, in a tender way. His eyes examined every mole, every wrinkle on the face of the man who had his heart full. Dipped in those brown pools that were Eddie's eyes "I love you" you said, Eddie just kissed you back "I'll never get tired of hearing that".

-

taglist: @hesvoid34 sweetpuffy12 emma77645 prettyblackprincessstuff eddie-munsons-ringss @tlclick73 @luna-munson83 @daisynor4 @tayhar811 @cockslutslurper3000 @wisestarlightwolf @tuittyfruitty4020 @mochii-moo @fancyghosttrashhero-blog @shadowmoonlight0604 @brittney69 @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog @she-collects-smut @honeyedshe @princessmads1820 @lma1986 @joantje @harringtonfan4 @bimbobaggins69 @corkadymu @daniellabrandt @ick90 @novelnovella @hesvoid34 @joantje @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul

[sofasoap]

Love at first sight - Epilogue

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x F!reader ( aka Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Two love birds finally got together. To the relief of everyone.

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,Part 5,Part 6

Warning: E Rating. Smutty smut. inaccuracies to medical and military related. discussion of injury.

A/N: @siilvan , thank you for being a wonderful Beta-reader *hug* @jynxmirage for giving me daily encouragements of sending me picture of delicious Bayardo De Murguia to keep me going :) Thanks to @okayyadriana  and @saltofmercury helping me with Spanish words :) if there are any mistakes. Please blame me not them.

“masterlist” 

You stayed on with the Los Vaqueros In Las Almas after Rudy was cleared to be discharged from the hospital. 

Approaching Price a few days after in private, you were nervous as you put in a request to stay on for a bit longer while the rest of the team moved on to another mission back in Europe soon.

“I know this is a very selfish request, Captain..” You look down at your boot, feeling guilty abandoning your team while they need you. But you can’t walk away from him this time. Rudy still needs you to look after him, or so you try to justify it. More like you need him to heal your guilty conscience. 

Price observed you in silence for a few minutes, brows furrowed. At last he jerks his head towards the outside, indicating to you to follow him. 

The sun is slowly setting, a few soldiers returning from their patrols and training. Everything seems so tranquil and peaceful compared to the near death mission the squad was sent to a few weeks ago.

Taking out a cigar he stashed away in his vest pocket, he lit it up, and took a slow drag before turning to you.

“You've been burying yourself in work non-stop for the last few months Mini. Is this why?” He didn’t point out what exactly he was asking about.

But, you know what he is implying. 

Kicking a bit of dirt on the ground and swiping the little gravel away for no reason, you let out a little grunt, acknowledging his question. 

“Stay as long as you want. You have trained your team well, Dr. MacTavish.” He chuckled as you pouted like a child, he knows you don’t like to address you with the title. “I’m sure they can handle the boys without you.” He pats you on the shoulder. “Take a good break, but I don’t know how much rest you are going to have fussing over him.” 

“I’ll try to behave…” You replied sincerely, finally feeling a bit of weight lift off your shoulders. “Thank you, Captain. It means a lot to me.”

Patting you on the shoulder with a fatherly smile, “Go chase your happiness, Mini. You deserve it.” 

Leaning back against the wall, you close your eyes and listen to the faint sound of music and singing that could be heard from the mess hall from a distance away, as the Task force and Los Vaqueros soldiers celebrate another successful mission under their belt after months of hard work. 

A shadow appears in front of you. Looking up, you saw Rudy standing in front of you, eyebrows raised, silently asking for permission. 

Patting the ground beside you and inviting him to sit down, you share the brief silence. 

This is probably the only time the two of you have spent time alone in the last few months, without anyone else hovering about. 

To Rudy’s dismay, Alejandro forced his second in command to take an extensive break after his return from hospital.

“Rest. You nearly died in my arms, hermano. I am sure your mother will be happy to have you at home for more than one day in a few weeks.” He commented. Alejandro turned towards you and patted you on the shoulder, “I’ll get Dr. MacTavish here to check up on you, so don’t you worry about your injury.” 

Mama Parra was ecstatic to see you return along with her son. You were quite touched by how the whole family welcomed your return. Camila gave you a knowing look after giving you a hug.

“Thank you for saving my brother. And, please, look after him from now on.” 

The tender look he gives you everytime you go over to change his bandages, and the desire he couldn’t keep hidden sipping through when you glide your hands, deliberately across his well defined ab. You linger your hand around his pelvis area, boldly caressing the slight bit of hair showing above his pants. Oh how his eyes darken as you flash him a sly smile, teasing him. 

If only he wasn’t still recovering from his near fatal wound. If only there weren’t people always out and about in the house.

Both of you would have given in to the desire, right there and then. 

But his mother would always poke her head into the room every time, fussing about and pulling you out to feed you with delicious meals, trying to show you the family photos, and with your rudimentary understanding of Spanish language, along with Rudy and Camila’s translation, Mama Parra loved telling you all the family history and childhood stories of Rudy and his siblings, and all the havoc him and Alejandro caused when they were young. 

You often catch Alejandro looking at the two of you, rolling his eyes while shaking his head, exasperated that the two of you are behaving like love sick puppies yet again. 

“Are you two going to make a move on each other or not?” Alejandro asked you once, when you were dropping off the health assessment reports in his office. “You know there is a betting pool happening amongst the team to see when…”

You ran out of the office in a flash, not even waiting for his sentence to finish, utterly mortified. 

Rudy breaks the silence first as he softly calls out your name. Turning slightly to face him.

“Cariño. Mi vida.” The tips of your ears burn as he addresses you in such an intimate manner. How would it feel if he called out like that when he was buried inside you…? “What are you thinking?” He whispered, his beautiful brown orbs filled with sadness. “Are you… are you thinking of leaving again?” Your heart clenched with pain as he looked at you with the same nervousness and distress you saw the night at the hospital.  You realise the two of you haven’t sat down and discussed the future, where to move on from here. No wonder the poor man is feeling so insecure. 

“Oh love.. no.. no don’t think that.” Gently cupping his face, you pull him down towards you to lean against his forehead. “I am not leaving you. Ever again. No matter what happens. I am sorry I haven’t been clearer.” You apologised as you leaned close to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “...well, barring from getting sent out for missions…” You added hastily. 

You feel tension dissipate from him as you give him your words of reassurance. Taking one of his hands, you put it over your heart.

“This will be yours from now on. And this,” You put your hand over his rapid beating heart, “I hope I have the honour for this to be mine.” You drop down to a whisper, suddenly timid. 

“From the moment I laid my eyes on you, I had already devoted my heart to you. I never expected you to return my feelings. I was happy to watch you from afar, assist you whenever I could; seeing that bright smile appear on your face is all that matters to me. I never expected anything in return.”

You were taken aback by his comment. You knew he had feelings for you quite early on, but from the moment you arrived at Las Almas? You didn’t quite expect that. Silently pining for you, doing what he does the best, assisting you in the background. You realise everytime the medical team has requested something, it would be done right away in the next few days. You got a complaint? Rudy would sort it out straight away. 

“All done, as per your request.” You remember his soft smile and his shyness everytime he reported back to you. 

It was all for you. 

“Rudy… oh, Rudy…” You lamented. The guilt is hitting you again.You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face now. “I am so sorry… so sorry…”

“Cariño, it’s not your fault. You did what you thought was right at the time, and I don’t blame you for that.” He pulls you into his embrace, kissing you lightly on your head. “I admit, I was quite heartbroken, but I do understand. Duty over heart. And the distance would have made it hard.” Closing his eyes, he chuckled slightly. “I buried myself in work, trying to put it all behind me. That accidental phone call? It reignited my hope. Brought back the ache again.” 

Resting your head in the crook of his neck, you enjoy the closeness, his scent, as he lightly rocks you back and forth to the music in the distance, slowly processing his words. 

“I love you, mi vida. I love you so much.” He whispered into your ears. “You are so beautiful. So strong, so fierce, so loyal…” He pulled himself away slightly to face you as he took in a deep breath.

“Would it be too much to ask, for you to be mine?” He pleaded, desperately searching for an answer in your eyes. 

You wrap your arms around his neck with a soft smile, “You already have my heart,” You whispered as you tipped your head up to give him a gentle kiss on his lips. “And you have my permission to take my body as yours, too.” 

With that reply, he leaned down towards you for another kiss, pouring all his emotion and heart into it. You can feel both of your bodies heating up as you nudge his lips open with your tongue, teasing him.

Abruptly, he pulls you away, panting, and jerks his head towards the main building. “My room. Not here.” That was all he could get out with his mind semi-frazzled from the kiss. You nodded your head frantically as both of you made your way towards the said destination.

As the two of you passed through the mess hall towards the officer’s quarters, you thought you saw Alejandro’s quick wave and smirk. Must be your imagination?

You couldn’t help but circle your arm around his waist as he shakily tried to open the door to his resting quarters. Hands meander around his body, teasing him a little, feeling his broad muscles, his back, and coming to a stop as you palm his semi hard package underneath his trousers. As soon as the door opens, he turns around and pulls you in, and kicks the door closed. You pull him down by his collar for another kiss, desperate to show him how much you want him, to soothe his worries and doubt. 

You push him to sit down on the bed, both of you still catching your breath from the heated kiss and dash.

“Please, mi amor… please, show me how you like it. Where you want me to touch…” He looks up at you, hands roaming up and down your body, voice dropping into a husky and lustful whisper.

You lower yourself to straddle him, feeling his hardness through the fabric. Rolling your hips slightly, you hear his breath catching slightly, holding back a groan. 

You move one of his hands to grab your ass, and the other to slide under your top, towards your breast. “Anywhere you like, love,” You swallow thickly, body filled with want. You want him. Anywhere. Everywhere. “Just show me what your deft fingers can do.” You purred as you looked at him through half hooded eyes. . 

You always wondered what it would feel like to have his hands on you after seeing him playing the guitar that night. The beautiful nimble fingers gliding up and down the fretboard, plucking away on the strings.

Standing up again to let him have better access to your lower region, he fumbles slightly as he unbuttons your pants and glides in between your pants and underwear. You let out an unrestrained moan as you feel his finger skate over your clit, before it reaches your already soaking opening.

“That’s it, my love..more… I want to feel more of you there…” You gasped and demanded as you rolled your hips with his moment. Another finger followed without hesitation, and another, until you feel stretched full of him pumping slowly in and out of you. 

His thumb languidly circles your clit as you dig your nails into his shoulder, back arched and screaming his name, not caring if the whole barracks hears you enjoying the first orgasm your lover has given you.

You look down at him with your watery orbs, breathing still short and fast as you come down from the blissful high he has just given you. He pulled his fingers out of you and slipped them in his mouth.

“I want to taste more of you.” He hummed as he slowly licked his fingers, cleaning up the cum juice you drenched him with. “My mouth against your beautiful soaking wet cunt, making you happy…”

Oh, you have definitely flipped a switch on. Gone is the shy Rudy, now Rodolfo Parra, the same confidence and passion shining through his eyes that you saw from him that night playing his guitar, is requesting to please you once again. Or, is that a thinly veiled demand?

Either way, you welcome the change.

Leaning down to pull him into an open mouthed kiss, you speak against his lips.

“You will have a lot more chances for that later on, my love.” You smirked as you pushed his shoulder, making him fall back onto the bed. You kneel on the bed, legs on each side of his body. “Now, it’s my turn to give you some pleasure, as you have just given me.” You position yourself comfortably sitting on his thighs, before you start to unbutton his shirt. 

Peppering kisses on his chest, your eyes soften as your hand carrases over the healed scar from months ago. That pain in your heart is still as fresh as the day you barely pulled him back from death’s door step.

“Still hurting?” You murmured as you traced your fingers over the most critical spot. “Occasional phantom pain, but I am alright now. Thanks to you.” He reassures you as he runs his hand up and down your arm.

Continuing down his body, your hands shake with excitement like a child opening a present on Christmas day, eager to see what is hiding underneath. 

Your smile broadens as you pull his pants down, his impressive girth finally appearing. You heard him groaning as you gently grabbed his length, pumping it a few times before taking it with your mouth.

Rudy gasps and moans as you work away, teasing him with your tongue, sucking the tip and kneading his balls lightly. He grasps the bed sheet hard as he blabbers away in Spanish, too fast for you to follow. He took you by surprise as he let out an almost half whimper-half sob before you felt the hot cum coating the inside your mouth. You lapped it all up and swallowed keenly as he rode out the rest of his orgasm.

“I… I am sorry, mi amor. I couldn’t hold it in any longer...” He apologised profusely, clearly embarrassed. You climb back up towards him. “I am glad I have that effect on you, Cariño.” You hushed him as you showered him with kisses on his face and patted his chest. 

His eyes glitter as you use the endearment in his mother tongue. “I should feel honoured that I can make you come so quickly. Now,” You stripped the rest of your clothing off. “Show me what you can do with that impressive thing inside me.”

Rudy claimed shyly he isn’t as experienced as you, but oh boy. His attentiveness, his eagerness, how much he wanted to give you a good time, all made up for it. 

His hands couldn’t stop touching you, caressing you as he slowly thrusted in and out of your aching core, stretching it open, making you quiver and moan out no matter what angle and position he went for. As if the two of you were made for each other, meant to be. Your soulmate. 

The two of you finally drifted to sleep, round after round of pleasure and orgasms, with his arm around you, holding you close to his chest. Afraid to let go, afraid for you to disappear again.  

The whole mess hall erupted into cheers and whistles as both you and Rudy walked in, taking both of you by surprise. 

You hid your face in Rudy’s shoulder, abashed by the sudden attention both of you were getting. 

Rudy, calm as always, ignored all the teases as he gently took your hand, which incited another round of cheers as he led you to the back table where Alejandro and your team was sitting at the moment for breakfast. He sat you down first before murmuring into your ear and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, heading towards the serving area to grab food for both of you.

“I hope you two had a good time last night.” Alejandro smiled as he pushed the jar of sugar towards you. 

“HOW–” You nearly spilled out the coffee that you were pouring into the mug. 

“Why did you think the officer’s quarters were so quiet last night?” Alejandro smirked with a knowing look. 

Blistering hell, he knew. He ordered people to stay away from the sleeping quarters. You wondered why the usually busy hallway was void of people as the two of you dashed towards his bedroom. 

Another soldier sitting across from you laughed. " Ah, don't be so shy. We were all rooting for you and our Sergeant Major. And, you know what they say?? Tell her, mi hermanos, mi hermanas!!"

“Save a horse, ride a Vaquero!” The whole mess hall shouted in unison. 

You just want to dig a hole in the ground and hide.

“...Captain.” You mumbled at Price. “Have you got Nikolai’s contact? Please ask him to take me away from this horrible embarrassment.” You buried your face in your hands. Now how are you going to face all of them?

“Might be a good idea, so we don’t have to hear your screams every night.” Soap mumbled as he took a sip of his coffee. 

OH great, now your brother is talking about your sex life. Something just snapped inside you. Stuff this. If they are so interested in your life, you might as well…. 

Slamming your mug onto the table, you stood up on the bench, whistling to catch everyone’s attention. 

“Since all of you are so interested in our love life, yes, the Sergeant Major and I finally shagged last night.” You heard your brother spitting out his coffee while Ghost thumped his back, Gaz laughing his head off. “And, ladies, his fingers are just as good, if not better than all of you imagined.” Gasps and giggles could be heard amongst the crowd. Out of the corner of your eyes, Rudy froze mid-motion while picking up some toast from the toaster, soldiers around him slapping his back and elbowing him, teasing him. 

“Mini…” You heard Price trying to interject, but you held out your hand towards your captain, stopping him. 

“Last, but not least, I love him, and he is off the market people! Take this as a warning, no one touches MY MAN!” 

Jumping down from your bench, you walk down the aisle between the refectory tables, as if doing a victory walk between the cheering and clapping soldiers, towards Rudy, who’s now blushing from head to toe, hearing your public declaration. 

“There. I think that will stop anyone from gossiping about us.” You stop in front of your lover, as he leans into the crook of your neck, feeling the heat radiating off his skin.

“Ah, querida… What am I going to do with you.” He asked, followed by a sigh.  

“Well, one thing for sure, you aren’t going to get rid of me, because I am going to stick around for quite a long time.” You replied as you wrapped your arm around his torso.

“Good.” He put his plates down to the side and proceeded to lift you up high. “Because you are mine forever, mi hermosa.” 

“... how much did you bet on them?” 

“A hundred pounds, But that’s because I had insider information.” 

“Mierda.” 

Tag list:

@jynxmirage, @kaplerrr, @captainpriceslover,@homicidal-slvt,@floral-force,@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world,@iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface,@okayyadriana,@random-thot-generator,@siilvan,@crazymela,@preciouslittlecreature,@glitterypirateduck,@cumikering,@devcica,@nrdmssgs,@random0lover

@nightingal3-tales, @deakyspuff, @abbeyrjm-blog, @alypink,@liyanahelena, @loppyc

@deadbranch

[whiterosechrista]

Vent time!

Hey all.

So, I know I said in my first post that I’m not comfortable with heavy/political topics, but I really need to vent.

I sent a friend the link to the YouTube video for that Palestine bundle. She wasn’t the only one I sent it to, but she was the first to respond;

“Sorry, I stand with Israel but seems like a good deal otherwise.”

So of course I was like “with all due respect, why are you supporting GENODICE?” and she said it was because she;

“[stood] with anyone whose agenda was eradicating terrorism.”

Me, not knowing the full details of the Palestine situation, but knowing enough to know that didn’t sound right, said;

“So innocent Palestinians are terrorists then? People who’ve lost their homes, their family, their lives? For no reason other than Israel not liking them?”

“No the terrorist group Hamas.”

Before I could think of an adequate comeback, she continued;

“Who pillaged, massacred, raped, and reaked havoc onto Israeli citizens on october 7th with full intentions to cause harm and destruction to the Jewish race.”

Me, having not heard about that, was startled long enough for her to send one last message;

“And my heart goes out to all citizens of any country who gets caught in acts of war, but they were warned beforehand when Israel bombed those places. Who even does that in a war?? A country and government who actually cares about its citizens and their enemy’s citizens. They only bombed those places to reach the underground bunkers and tunnels that Hamas was and still is using to hold weapons of mass destruction which would be used on thousands of Israeli citizens with the sole goal to kill Jews.”

…

Yeah. She justified a bombing.

It took me a while to come up with a decent response to that, and I’m not even sure it’s the most appropriate one, but my feelings were scrambled and I wasn’t quite sure how to convince my friend (who’s only 16 by the way) that terrorism doesn’t justify bombing a place with innocent people, but I tried;

“I’m not defending Hamas at all, they can go to whatever hell they believe in. What I’m saying is that they’re not the only ones doing that. There’s many sides to every war, and if Israel had never started bulldozing, massacring, and invading Palestine, the chances are so much lower that Hamas would’ve ever done those things. I’m not gonna force you to believe me. I’m just gonna end with: the bundle is supporting the CHILDREN of Palestine. Not Hamas. Nowhere near Hamas. It’s supporting the children who never should have to go through the things they did, who are hurting and starving because some adults believe it’s okay to go to war.”

She hasn’t replied. Her notifications are silenced. I don’t know what to do.

Her family is pretty heavily Jewish, the kind that teaches their kids Israel’s in the right (at least on her dad’s side, and that’s who she stays with mostly, which is a problem ‘cause he’s not a good dude and shouldn’t have custody of her, but her mom has mental/neurological issues, so he used that in court (I think, I was only 11 at the time)), and I’m now worried that she’s going to get dragged into things that’ll seriously hurt her.

Mom warned me against having this debate with her again until she’s older and more independent, since living with her dad’s made her sheltered + naive and she’s not old enough to deal with the idea that her family’s been telling lies her whole life.

She’s right, of course, but I’m just so worried now. I don’t want my awesome friend to be brainwashed by this bullshit propaganda. I don’t want her to stop talking to me because she thinks I’m supporting terrorism or something. I want her to form her own opinions and live her youth freely without her closest family shoving lies down her throat.

She and her mom stayed with my family when the whole custody battle happened, and our moms have been friends since, which is how I got back in touch with her a year or two ago. As such, I feel almost a sisterly responsibility as the older one to make sure she’s doing okay/staying safe/etc.

Just.

Argh.

Why is life like this?

Why do people support genocide and try to get their kids supporting it too?

What do they think that results in? Aside from a whole generation of kids who’ll grow up and realize their parents were liars, not to be trusted?

I don’t get it. I don’t want to get it. I just want all my friends to be safe and happy. Is that too much to ask?

[elizakai]

Greetings!

Was wondering if you would consent/allow me to use your Out of Pocket Dust entity design for a story? (Dustverse)

And if yes, may I know more about him (if he has an AU) or be allowed to expand on the concept?

Absolutely feel free to say no or ignore this ask

Have a wonderful week!

ABSOLUTELY YOU CAN!!!! I love that we spawned the dustverse LMAO

also ok i’ll be so fr, he spawned into the world as i was drawing, and thus has no au

however, allow me to quickly Bs the concept, and if anyone’s interested i can actually polish it later hee hoo (also feel free to use whatever concepts you like, it doesn’t have to be related to this if you’d prefer i don’t mind ehehe)

DETRITUS/ COSMIC DUST GUY INFO BELOW ⬇️

Detritus Is a Low-Level deity, at least in the hierarchy of other deities he is involved with.

He is an anomaly by their standards, the death of a star gave birth to this child of decay, he is reluctantly taken in by the others

He is younger, around 8000 years old id say😔

Detritus doesn’t know much about lower level beings, as the knowledge he has access to is rather restricted, furthermore, he doesn’t quite know his place, as he is not often given tasks.

he also doesn’t know much about just. normal life. he’s been shown things on. a very large scale but never when you zoom in and see the small things

Other deities claim grand titles and roles, but he is but decay, leaving him with no actions to take and no purpose to fulfill. they perpetuate this inaction with excuses

he befriends a star. this star is considered a lower being. this star makes him question the validity of the hierarchy of beings he’s been taught.

he begins to question why they are considered “gods”. who put them in that place? are they not just self assigning these titles and using it to justify causing strife? who are they to dictate lives. however he isn’t really sure on any of this

at some point due to these thoughts (and or an action) his friend the star is disposed of, and he is cast out. he is told he will live amongst mortal beings, to witness for himself their vileness and wicked souls.

He is but dust cast to dust

so taking on a more normal form detritus, taking being called dust LITERALLY, now adopts a new form and name. (he’s a silly little guy)

he meets a few mortals (ahem ahem you can guess who) (i’ll expand later if this interests anyone)

he is lucky for this, as he has no idea how their lives work and would just end up with someone sending him to a lab to be dissected for his “inhuman” um, abilities.

instead of learning of mortals wickedness, he only experiences kindness. he’s a bit curious, he tends to take things literally, but if you say something that is opposing to what he’s been taught, he will assume it’s sarcasm.

he’s quite funny but he has a weird sense of humor.

he’s under the impression that he’s fated to destroy any relationship he might have and thus feels guilty for making ties. he also expects to be taken home eventually

(honestly. they just wanted to get rid of him. don’t tell him that.)

Detritus, now Dust, doesn’t really have a solid form, so the one he takes on isn’t really as restrictive as you’d think. His body could contort like some demon from hell out of nowhere and then be completely normal the next second. he has to be told not to do this.

When he first took on said form, he couldn’t figure out how the fuck to form hands. his hands were very deformed and gross looking so he hid them. one of the first mortals he meets is in for a horrific experience until he figures out how to properly project how a hand moves😭

um. oh also, i keep saying he, but they’re semi genderless and wouldn’t bat an eye if you called him literally anything else. i don’t think detritus really understands gender, just things

he’s very thoughtful about inner workings of the universe but then doesn’t know what the fuck a comb is and continuously throws his new friend for a loop

he’s kind of skittish, like a cat that wants to dip its toes into the water and then immediately runs and hides but. will do it again five minutes later.

he’d probably think a butterfly is like an angel to be worshipped if he saw one

he doesn’t think mortals are evil, he compares them to his experience with the star.

he’s not immortal either, he’s more of a demi god then anything

he begins to wonder if he even wants to go home, or if it is his home, after a while of living with these new companions around. there’s definitely going to be some runs in with government authorities and cryptid hunters :))

ANDDD all of this is subject to change if i actually clean this up, as i sped typed this with very little thought beforehand ok BYEEE anyone can ask questions if you have any somehow and i’ll bs more lore 😭

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

I Didn't Have To - Dr James Wilson x peds!reader

description: Insecurity is a terrible thing.

word count: 650

requested: no

authors note: just a short little blurb I wrote that I wanted to share! I'll be damned if I'm gonna stand here whilst there are no new james wilson fics on this app! I won't stand for it!

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN FOR PEDS!READER- request here

The morning sun bled through the partial blinds and bathed the two conjoined lovers in light. Wilson brought up a hand to rub away the sleep and then let it fall to rest on her shoulder. He was always amazed at how soft her skin was, thinking he could touch it every day if he let her. The gentle strokes aroused her from her sleep.

“Morning.” Even still half asleep, her voice held a cheery note that brought a smile to his face.

“Morning, my love.” He leant down and pressed a kiss to her still puckered lips. He then proceeded to deliver a kiss to each eyelid. She giggled at how ticklish this was. Wilson practically swooned at her innocence. How did he get such an angel? Who trusted him with something this fragile? As gentleman-like as he tried to appear he knew there were spots in his past. Yet here he was with a woman who’s past was as pure as her spirit.

“Darling, we need to get up.” She groaned. “I know baby but the sooner we get up the sooner the day passes and then the sooner we’re back here, together.”

This did the trick as she ungracefully threw her legs over the side of the bed and pushed her limp body up so the carpet took the brunt of her weight. Wilson followed.

The two stood shoulder to shoulder in the bathroom at Wilson’s apartment, which had become her second home over the past few weeks. Some, well House, may say it was too quick but they only ever wanted to talk to each other, see one another, and be near one another. Three blocks between their apartments kind of complicated that.

Y/n spat her toothpaste into the porcelain bowl. Her hair was brushed and all that was left was the face. She took out her cosmetic bag from her permanent drawer and began applying a controlled number of creams and powders. James came from behind and began placing kisses on the exposed skin of her shoulder.

“How can one, who already looks as beautiful as one does, feel the need to alter their beauty in any way.”

“Stop it, you don’t have to say that.”

“I didn’t have to sleep with you, and I still did that.”

She turned to face him, accusingly, “You saying you didn’t have fun.”

“I think we both know the answer to that.” She giggles as he sends her an unrehearsed wink.

She returns to the brushing of her cheekbones. “Anyways that’s rich coming from a man who spends hours blow-drying his hair.”

“It’s not that—I like taking care---thinking that I look good—I mean its not like---my body’s not—” he fiddles with his hairdryer as he tries to justify himself to her, refusing to look up.

She halts her movement when she hears his stutters. She makes her way over and takes his body into her arms so she can make him meet her gaze.

“Hey. Listen to me. I didn’t just fall for you because you are intelligent, sensitive, funny, kind, sweet and because you care about me more than anyone ever has” she began to brush his hair back so she could gaze into his eyes. “but also because you are cute and unbelievably sexy. And even if you weren’t, I wouldn’t care, because all those other things matter to me a thousand times more.” She finishes her thought with a deep kiss pressed to his lips.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I didn’t have to fall in love with you and I still did that.” She giggles before skipping off back to his room to get changed.

He reaches up his fingers to brush where her lips touched his. Grinning like a schoolboy, he followed her path so he could soak up as much of their time together as possible.

[cjbolan]

A Very Simple Way to Fix The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea...

Have Melody be sent away to a boarding school as far from the sea as possible. Seriously that would make the movie soooo much better. It would hammer home the whole “generational trauma” trend this sequel was going for, but without ripping off the plot of the first movie. It would show how Ariel inherited her father’s overprotective tendencies, but shows it in a completely different way. Also this would be much more practical for Ariel and Eric. They’re ruling a seafaring kingdom, so walling off their entire kingdom away from this sea is ridiculous, and would make trade and fishing incredibly difficult for everyone in the kingdom. Furthermore, being sent away to boarding school would back up everything Melody says later on...

Melody: “Everybody thinks I’m...weird.” 

If she’s at boarding school, we can actually see how she interacts with lots of other people, including kids her age. Sorry Melody but a few mean kids at your birthday party isn’t “everybody”. The more we see her with other kids, the more we can actually SEE how she’s “weird”. Show, don’t tell, folks. Also it’d be a great Character Establishing Moment to show how she always felt drawn to the sea, despite being far away from it most of the time.  The plot could kick off for when she’s allowed to return home once a year for her birthday (or something like that). And of course her parents would still send Sebastian to watch over her while she’s away.

Melody: “I wish I could tell my mom how I feel. But she'd never understand.        I can talk to crabs, but not to her.”

Minus that one fight, Melody had absolutely no issue talking to her mom. I get not telling her everything. But for someone who can’t talk to her, she tells her an awful lot about how she’s feeling. That line would make a LOT more sense, if Melody was away at boarding school and didn’t see her parents much. That way she has good reason to feel disconnected and unable to talk to them. Hence the resentment she later bears towards them would be much more justified. They not only forbade her from the one thing she loves (the sea), but sent her far away from it and away from them.

Melody: “You knew how much I loved the sea! Why did you hide the truth from me?”

Again, this line has more weight if she was actually sent away from home. Where she’d be kept away from not just the sea, but from anyone who knew her and could easily tell her the truth. Carlotta and Grimsby were at that celebration at sea with her as a baby all those years ago. Carlotta and Grimsby are very aware that merpeople exist, either one of them could accidentally let the truth slip to Melody. Unless King Triton memory wiped them or something.

If you couldn’t tell, I have this love-hate relationship with The Little Mermaid 2. I loved its starting premise: Ariel and Eric have a daughter who learns more about her mixed-species heritage. I just hate the way it turned into a low-budget carbon copy of the first movie. Maybe that’s one reason I love Emily Windsnap so much. Because Emily Windsnap does everything I wish The Little Mermaid 2 did.

[laurfilijames]

Okay, I’m here, I’m making myself comfortable 😌

I’m avoiding SOA talk until I finish season seven, so I don’t stumble onto anything (honestly shocked I’ve managed to stay spoiler free for so long)

So, our man Will Miller… do you have any of your own head cannons for the most reserved of the Triple Frontier boys?

Ooooo yay!!!!!!! I was so happy to see this in my inbox you have no idea 🤗💗 Sorry it took me so long to answer, I'm hosting family at my cottage this weekend and there are dogs and children everywhere and not a moments peace 😅

Totally fair to avoid SOA talk! I'm glad you've managed to remain spoiler-free until this point!

You bet your ass I have headcanons about the Captain! This man is on my mind day and night and each time I watch TF, more thoughts (and thots) and ideas come up and I simply can't get enough.

So, here's a few I'll share that maybe some will agree with and maybe some won't!

The Miller's had a rough upbringing. Their dad was a drunk and their mom left when they were fairly young, resulting in Will stepping up to care for Benny and making sure he was looked after, earning Will his seriousness and maturity far sooner than he should've.

Because of that, Will was out of that house as soon as possible, having enlisted the day he turned 17.

Growing up, Will taught Benny how to fight and defend himself, making him feel less guilty about leaving his younger brother at home without him when he went away.

Because he saw what happened to his parents, Will doesn't drink much. He doesn't like the loss of control and hates the emotions it stirs up in him when he does have a couple more than he normally would. He will have a beer or two with the guys or enjoy a glass of wine with dinner occasionally, but never enough to even get a buzz. 

He keeps track of everything because it helps him process things. He never wants to forget the things he's done; good or bad. It helps him stay accountable for his actions and he's not the type of guy to kid himself into thinking his position can justify it, and he's learned over the years to acknowledge rather than bury what's happened. The numbers are sort of a certainty for him and help ground him.

Will doesn't sleep well. He suffers from nightmares often, and on nights when they don't happen, he's usually awake on account of his own thoughts. When a nightmare does happen, he wakes up in a full sweat and more often than not it's accompanied by screaming and thrashing around. To help pass the hours when he isn't able to fall back asleep, he'll go for a run to get rid of that anxious energy or hit the 24 hour gym.

I'm one to believe that his relationship with his ex-fiancée wasn't the best, that maybe they had been together since they were young and over the years grew apart and fell out of love as they changed and got older. Will's choice in career caused a lot of stress between them and wedged them apart even more, and unfortunately she took advantage of his deployments to indulge in affairs with men who suited her better. The Publix incident was the last straw for her; she wasn't willing to stick around to try to help him through things and abandoned him completely, leaving him to spiral before picking himself back up again with the help of his brother and friends.

I honestly could keep going but I'll stop there! Please, please, please if you or anyone else has opinions on any of this and wants to discuss it further send me an ask or reblog this. I just love talking about my man 😩💗

[emblemxeno]

Decided to take a shot at my own interpretation of “FE Warfare Morality” and whatnot that the fandom is screaming about.

Pacifist: War is absolute last resort no matter what. Celica, Eirika and Corrin could all realistically move to Pragmatist-Retaliatory and fit, but I put them in their own pacifist tier because they all have multiple in-story instances of diplomatic attempts at ending conflict of varying success (sparing enemies, reasoning with bandits, sacrifice of self or possessions); too many to not go noted imo.

Pragmatist-Retaliatory: Diplomacy and peaceful solutions are preferred, but warfare isn’t shied away from. Well aware of war’s reality, and if push comes to shove, they will take up arms. Characters in this tier often had homes invaded and/or parents killed by main aggressor. Avenging homeland or kin may also play a part. Eliwood could actually move up to pacifist because he is that self sacrificing, but I think he fits more where he is. Alm could go to Circumstance or Martial, but idk, he’s willing to give Fernand the benefit of the doubt in Act 3 and outright sends Rudolf an offer of a peace accord in Act 4 so I put him here. Seliph could also go to Circumstance because his willingness to try diplomacy more or less comes after the deed is done (such as questioning having to kill certain people being a necessity), but since his mercy and desire to prevent/avoid conflict is a part of his character, I put him here.

Pragmatist-Circumstance: Views and actions in regards to war are dependent on circumstance:

Lyn offers no quarter to bandits, pirates, or absolutely anyone who harms her family or friends, but is fair to special cases like Jaffar and Nino and does have instances of reasoning with others. 

Ike is a merc, so he often says how he feels doesn’t matter, but is regardless known to try and talk sense into people and be willing to smack folks around in equal measure. 

Micaiah doesn’t like needless conflict but understands the necessity in toppling Begnion’s oppressive rule in Daein and is forced into becoming a ruthless general during Part 3. 

Robin is similar to Ike, in that as a tactician his feelings don’t technically matter but is also known to value diplomacy or winning a battle depending on context. 

Lucina isn’t really in the leadership position enough to make peaceful or action-initiative calls, and when she is the leader in Future Past, it’s against the undead and the very evil Grima. However, her attempted assassination of Robin and general mixed feelings on what she’d do to save the future is enough for me to put her here.

Ryoma can techinically be retaliatory, but his own ignorance and xenophobia towards Nohr often prevents him from being diplomacy seeking, such as in CQ chapter 12. Nevertheless, he’s diplomatic enough after character development that he’s more dependent on circumstance.

Xander actually encourages the diplomatic approaches of Corrin more than once, before route split and during Conquest and Revelation, the latter two which he’s also an active participant in. However, his complicated feelings in regards to Garon and Nohr leads him to do bad things in the belief that it’ll be worth it, so he’s also circumstance.

Azura values peace and is known to compliment successful diplomatic approaches; however, she often questions Corrin’s more naive choices, weaves some relatively cold and calculated plans of her own, and is known to justify conflict more often than Corrin does.

Byleth is hard to guage because his alignment is route dependent, and he more or less serves as a support for the actual main character of said route. Plus his status as a silent protagonist muddies the waters a bit. Still, there is difference enough between the lack of mercy given to the Agarthans and the merciful fights towards former students that lets him land here.

Pragmatist-Martial: Preference for action over treaty attempts or negotiation during wartime, however, that doesn’t mean diplomacy is outright disliked or not valued by them. Hector, Ephraim, and Chrom are all appreciative of how their siblings strive for peace, and the latter two even attempt to emulate such actions on occasion. Sigurd was more than happy to try and pull out of Agustria, but even then, his most common solution to injustice was always marching on the enemy. Leif from the jump was gung-ho about taking down the oppressive forces in Thracia and had to be mellowed out a tad. Dimitri during his descent on the Azure Moon route could fit here, too, though honestly he’s such a unique case. Rhea I would also put here, or maybe Circumstance.

A lot of characters in the Pragmatist-Circumstance and Pragmatist-Martial tiers could also be lumped into Pragmatist-Retaliatory by general technicality (e.g. lots of these characters had homes invaded so retaliation is the expectation), but I wanted to be specific in talking about attitudes towards warfare.

Emperor: It’s just Edelgard lol. Despite her words about “not wanting civilians harmed” or her claims about the war being the only option, it means nothing when her first action in the game is attempted assassination of two people who she (at least to her knowledge in Dimitri’s case) never met. The assistance in kidnapping, subterfuge, conspiracy, human experimentation, and of course the 5 year war which inflicts copious amounts of different harm on the populous also cements her place here.

Plus the devs outright compared her position to past FE villains where she’s different in that she’s 1) a woman and 2) playable, so the twist where she’s behind the war is more of a surprise.

So yeah, that’s my list. Though really, I think trying to fit characters into these types of boxes is kinda stupid in the first place because all the main characters are just that different due to the contexts of their stories, so it’s just generally impossible to make the kinds of compare-and-contrast tier lists like these. Except Edelgard because of her inciting conflict being the one thing no other lord ever does.

[luckyqueenreign]

I was wondering about this Wednesday's update. I know that the postcards are coming. I don't think the MC nor Marshall will be in any of the postcards so Fusebox can capitalize on the surprise and maximize the drama. There have already been the raunchy races and the postcards are coming, do you think we will be going back to the Villa this week or do you think we will be at Casa for all 3 episodes? I hope we return to the Villa, but I get the feeling the update will end with a Stick or Twist cliffhanger. What do you think?

IM TIRED. I WANT TO GO HOME!!! It’s been SIX EPISODES ALREADY!!!! I’m not the type to go and send fb hate mail bc I don’t care that deep but I will literally send them hate mail if they keep us in casa for another week. Personally I think the first episode will be all of the girls gathering around the postcard, trying to find out what happened in the hideaway and then whoever you took to the hideaway will try to talk to you to win you back one last time. You might get a chance for one last kiss but then you’re gonna get the text that we’re going back and we need to decide now if we’re sticking or switching. Second episode Time to change the girls are all ahhh mc what are u gonna do (the only time this was actually necessary) Grace is gonna be happy to go back to see Ozzy and will be side eyeing us but also smiling. (Tbh the way they’ve written Grace if you’re on Ozzy route is so bizarre it makes her look fake nice… because she’s genuinely so nice but then is mean mugging you half the time which is justified we’re literally trying to steal her man) the boring ones will go first ie in my playthrough bella and Louie. Then grace and Ozzy then Amelia and Roberto and then finally will be MC and Elliot. Everyone is first gonna be shocked to see marshall and the fact that Ozzy has a hidden twin no one knew about when Amelia brings him back in. But they’re gonna be so shocked, scared, happy MC is back. Episode three… if there’s any dumping it’ll happen here. Diamond choice to hear about what the guy we want did at casa. (Ozzy better have been showing that girl in the postcard the airport in the distance where he will be flying out of to find mc) since it’s late we prob won’t have a chance to have a deep chat with anyone. Maybeeee one of the guys will pull mc but I can’t really see it happening and is getting to talk to anyone we want. Especially since Ivy is back too so I feel like the girls are gonna pull us for a girls chat. Itll end with the girls getting changed for bed, mc goes down to bed and maybe THEN someone pulls us and ends on a cliffhanger.

[witchsickness]

hi i am curious what drew you to billy as a character?

i love your fics btw thank u so much for writing them <3

uhm hello thank you for sending this and giving me an excuse to be annoying! you’re such a sweetheart 🖤

there are so many reasons that make billy a compelling character, but what drew me to him, five years ago, was mostly the potential. when s2 first aired, the information we got about billy/his character/his home life/his life pre-hawkins was skeletal. he was tabula rasa. could be anything. gave me this feeling of impending complexity, if you will. back then i still hoped that everything the writing introduced and took care into building would lead to something, so billy left with me with a hunger to know more, and the hope that s3 would satiate that (uh. that went well)

apart from being the most potentially complex and subversive character, billy is, above all, tragedy-woven. strictly referring to his s2 storyline since i genuinely, deeply despise the possession! i’ve talked about this before, but billy is the one character in this show whose ‘problems’ don’t stem from anything sci-fi-oriented. he doesn’t need a monster to justify fighting for survival. his whole life has been about clinging to the few pieces of himself he’s still allowed access to. about fighting to stay alive under the threat, not of inconceivable, impossible horrors, but of the one person meant to love and protect him. automatically elevates him to the most relatable, grounded, tragic st hero

there’s this sense of doom about him, and an awareness of it. billy’s a fighter. he’s aware of every single element working against him and, instead of being bent and broken and beaten, he recalibrates and teaches himself to survive. his survival and small victories aren’t due to luck or mercy on the part of his abuser, but because billy holds his head high and never gives up.

he’s extremely perceptive. living with neil and having to navigate his mood swings have led to a sixth sense, almost, of predicting what people expect of him, and twisting himself into the right shape (cool, loud, carefree teen / concerned brother / apple-pie perfect son) to get what he needs. which leads me to:

he’s always wearing a mask. billy, through years of abuse and trauma, has been taught to be distrustful of people, and to hide the parts of himself that make him an easy target in neil’s eyes. we see so many different versions of him in just a handful of scenes! it drives me insane to think how desperately he was holding on to the façade and how performative he felt the need to be all the time. his very own neil-taught defense mechanism against the cruelty of a world that billy has every reason to think will treat him just like neil does. we only get glimpses of the real person behind the mask when he’s faced with someone he cares about (max) or is intrigued by (steve). everything else is an act.

he’s angry. i just. i love that. it’s very rare to find characters who allow themselves the luxury of anger. and boy, does billy have a right to be. most of all, i love that his anger doesn’t stem from something vengeful and vindictive. billy never, ever hurts anyone unless provoked. his fury comes from recognizing the unfairness and impossibility of his predicament. he’s cornered, and snarling like a dog about it. he. doesn’t. give. up. he’s isolated, stripped bare of anything familiar and safe, vilified and demonized. and still, he’s fighting, because he knows he’s so close. the fire never goes out because he can see the light at the end of the father-built tunnel he’s been trapped in his whole life, and what’s a few more bruises when freedom is right there?

everything, and i mean everything, about billy is queer-coded. the way he dresses, the way he acts, the way he holds himself. the insults hurled at him by his father. the mask to keep everyone at a distance so that no one will know. no one will hate him for it the way his father does. his anger at the world for making him feel ashamed, and at himself, for being the way he is. wanting the things he shouldn’t instead of being a perfect son. someone good. imagine the cultural impact exploring this could’ve had. the statement it would’ve made. s i g h

he’s so obviously, painfully lonely. aching for some sort of connection. the walls to keep himself safe means keeping everyone out, too. he doesn’t know how to ask people to stay, because no one has before. that’s why, when he does care about someone, it’s obsessive. laser-focused and intense. we see this with max, whose solidarity billy’s constantly striving to earn by both trying to build a bond (private jokes, reminder of isolation and being able to rely solely on each other) and by protecting her in the only way he knows how. we see it with steve, the only person who, in billy’s eyes, can keep up with him. all those years under neil’s thumb have made him terrified of opening up, but weren’t enough to eliminate the craving.

[hannysarang]

Control // Twenty Four.

Summary: Draco hasn't been able to enjoy sex and a little birdie tells him Hermione likes to take control. Is he willing to give it up? Can Draco Malfoy give up control?

Chapter 24 ————————

Hermione was gone. 

Draco had waited all evening, not even aware that she was missing. How could he be so dumb?

Dolohov — no, Voldemort — had taken her and had given two impossible options: Either give her up to them completely by not looking for her or look for her and watch people die every hour they fail to find her. 

Everyone in the meeting was rather biased, everyone but the Head of Aurors not willing to give her up, including Kingsley. 

“The best case scenario is finding her as soon as possible,” Kingsley had said.

“As soon as possible,” Ginny had stressed. “We don’t know what they’re putting her through.”

Fists clenched, Draco had agreed. For all they knew, she was probably locked up in a cell, being tortured every hour they failed to find her.  

However, the Head of Aurors’ priority was not Hermione. 

In the beginning, Draco had doubted the threat would be real. But he knew better than to underestimate Voldemort, especially when the Head of Aurors mentioned that six random people on the streets had already been killed. 

Hermione had been taken since 4 o’clock and he had just sat around like a dumb kid, waiting for her to return home. 

“I’m sure Miss Granger will understand,” the Head of Aurors sternly stated. “I know her to be a sacrificing witch. She’ll understand if we give up the search.”

This comment had resulted in Ron almost punching the man across the face. While Harry and Ginny held him back, Draco observed Kingsley’s face. 

As Minister of Magic, there was no way he could ignore the fact that people were dropping dead because of their stubbornness and Draco knew it. 

But he didn’t seem ready to give up on her just yet. So Aurors and everyone that knew Hermione were on the search, hunting for any signs of her. 

Two hundred and eighteen bodies later, the news hit the papers:

< He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on a Killing Spree because of Hermione Granger. Does the Ministry Value Her Life over Everyone Else’s? >

Draco burnt the papers out of fury despite Hermione’s smiling photograph displayed on the front page. 

There were many complaints. Though they were all expected and quite frankly justified, it drove him insane because he knew which side the Ministry will decide to stand with. 

If you asked Draco, the Head of Aurors should’ve been punished for leaking classified information but Kingsley did not choose that path. He said he understood why the Head of Aurors had made that decision with a sorrowful face. 

Now, Kingsley had no choice but to stop the search. He made an official announcement that gave up Hermione to Voldemort and his followers for the sake of everyone else. He said he was very sorry but he also said that Hermione Granger would have agreed with this decision. 

Deep inside, Draco knew she would have. Hermione would’ve made sure they didn’t look for her right from the beginning. If anything, she would be the one to escape on her own, without the Ministry’s or anyone else’s help. 

But knowing this didn’t make anything feel better. To Draco, the rest of the Wizarding Society did not matter as long as she was safe — but she was not. 

He had spent a few days frustrated at Kingsley, not being able to get any food down his system when the Minister called him to the Ministry once more. Except this time, he was summoned to his office and not a meeting room and was greeted by Harry and Ron as well. 

Turns out, Kingsley had not given up on Hermione. The Minister had, but Kingsley Shacklebolt had not and he planned to send Harry and Ron on a secret mission to look for her. 

Ron and Harry had had a long debate on whether they should call Draco or not and it was clear which side each were on. But Ron had been convinced by the fact that they needed all hands on deck. It was also the reason why it had taken some time for Draco to be alerted of Hermione’s rescue mission. 

“No one can know,” Kingsley had warned the new trio. “If you are caught, the Ministry of Magic will deny any connections to you three, is that understood?”

The three had solemnly nodded, all agreeing on something for once. 

“But please,” he had also added. “Find her and bring her back safely.”

The three nodded with a little more determination that time. 

So that explained why Harry, Ron, and Draco were sharing a tent in the middle of the woods. What it didn’t explain was why they were eating shit food. 

Continue Chapter 24 on ao3

Start from the beginning

[psychicdreamfriendoperator]

Hello I know it is kinda soon but I had this idea and I didn't wanna lose it so it's ok to not answer for a bit 😭😭

Back to bunny s/o and 701 canines what about their bunny s/o isn't afraid of big carnivores because they were adopted by a carnivore family?

Like imagine them meeting the family and instead of a bunch of bunnies it's just like two big lions 😭😭💕

Anyway I hope you have a nice day/night and have an inspired day/night 🐇👍

ROOM 701 × Fluffy Bunny!Reader: MEETING THE PARENTS

Here you go. Hope you enjoy!! :]

— Psychic

meeting the parents

Legoshi

➭ He was not expecting your parents to be so ... different.

➭ He also wasn't expecting you to be so ... comfortable around such large carnivores. From everything he's read about small herbivores, there's an instinctive fear that paralyzes their body whenever they interact with a carnivore that's larger than them.

➭ Suffice to say, you don't look fearful at all.

—

Jack

➭ He'll be taken aback at first, but when he thinks back on it, all the hints were there.

➭ Forgive him if he's a little intimidated — your parents look absolutely terrifying to him!

➭ Jack is extremely curious about how your family unit works, but much too polite to be nosey. He doesn't want to offend anyone!

—

Collot

➭ If he's shocked, surprised or some other emotion, you can't tell.

➭ He's completely chill about it, all things considered. He doesn't treat you any differently, nor does he seem to be curious. To him, your family is just an extension of you.

➭ After meeting your parents, he starts calling your fluffy fur your ‘mane'.

—

Durham

➭ Okay wow, how could you have not told him? A little heads-up or something would've been appreciated.

➭ Durham is extremely intimidated — but really, he feels like he should've known better. You going out with him was already too good to be true.

➭ Your parents being large carnivores was just the catch.

—

Miguno

➭ Whereas Durham is panicky but laughs it off, Miguno remains panicky.

➭ Hyenas don't have a good reputation among carnivores, and he's extremely nervous. He tries to hide his worry, but it's fairly obvious that he's worried about something.

➭ He’ll get over it, eventually.

—

Voss

➭ In all honesty, he takes it a lot better than you thought he would.

➭ He isn't completely chill about it, but not freaking out, either, y’know?

➭ It’s very much a "Oh, so that's what it is" thing with him. He can either accept it or not, and he chooses to accept it. It's as simple as that.

midterm holiday

It feels like just yesterday you were unpacking your bags for the start of the school term. You muse on how quickly time flies as you fold your clothes — new ones, specially bought for the occasion — to put away in your suitcase.

Your bed has been stripped of everything but the sheets. It’s the only one in the room like that.

Most animals don’t go home during mid-term holiday. Those few that do either live close enough to justify leaving, or are close enough with their guardians to go home…

Whatever the reason, most of Cherryton’s student body remain on the compound. Still walking around in uniform, but replacing their daily classes with shopping sprees in the city and time out with their friends.

“It’s fun,” you say to no one but yourself, “but that sort of thing isn’t for me.”

You would much rather spend the time with your parents. They send letters every other day, and sneak tins of candies and chocolates whenever they are able to. They’ve sent their usual letter, a reminder to bring a friend home from boarding school so the lot of you can have dinner together.

You’ve never brought anyone home. Until now, that is.

dinner with the family

Legoshi

➭ He’s nervous, extremely so.

➭ It's a struggle for him to figure out how he's supposed to act. It's rude for carnivores to bear their fangs while eating with herbivores, but not in the presence of other carnivores.

➭ You're a herbivore — so he shouldn't show his fangs. But, your parents are carnivores, which means that it wouldn't be wrong of him to do so...?

➭ He spends more time worrying over accidentally offending you or your family than he does actually eating.

➭ Should anyone point out that he hasn't touched his plate, Legoshi immediately works to clear it (not clearing your plate is seen as rude no matter what your host is!).

—

Jack

➭ He’s a little surprised by the invitation to stay for dinner, but he's also very happy to be included.

➭ Your parents are both decent cooks — and Jack reminds them at almost every opportunity.

➭ All things considered, it's a very standard dinner.

➭ (He'd love to be invited back again).

—

Collot

➭ Collot cleans up nicely. He doesn't go out of his way to look super good or anything, but he does tidy himself up — trim the fur around his neck and eyes so he doesn't look too shaggy. That sort of thing.

➭ He starts off a bit stiff, giving one-word responses and keeping his answers brief, but in no time at all he returns to his usual cool demeanour.

➭ (Your parents were both rather fond of him. Why don't you invite him around more?)

—

Durham

➭ He's like Legoshi: extremely nervous. Unlike Legoshi though, Durham’s nervousness doesn't come off as endearing.

➭ He overdresses for dinner, determined to make a good first impression. He’ll play up everything school-related — he figures that lions have higher standards — and dodge any questions relating to his own family.

➭ His tactic works. Your parents want to know when you’ll bring your “funny little friend” over next.

—

Miguno

➭ Very panicky (huh, that seems to be a recurring theme with these lads).

➭ Only speaks when spoken to. When you bring up that he's in a band, Miguno wants to die inside. To his surprise, your parents are actually... genuinely interested in what he has to say? They're not feigning interest just to laugh at him?

➭ Your parents occasionally write to you asking about Miguno: “How is your musically-inclined friend doing?” “Has he written any new songs?”

—

Voss

➭ He admittedly surprises your parents with his swearing, but the effect doesn't linger. They mark him down as a ‘conversational swearer’ and carry on with dinner.

➭ He dresses very casually. No need to stress himself out with looking all formal when it's just dinner at your parents’ house.

➭ Your parents are a little taken aback by Voss’ stature (or lack thereof), but they're pleased — you finally have a friend that's your size! What's not to celebrate?

➭ Neither of your parents are too sure what to think about Voss — they're only certain that they like him.

[grantabdl]

I Am Going 24/7

So, my partner and I have decided that I will be diapered 24/7. I am just starting my second week of diaper dependency. This is something that I have wanted for so long, and I finally have the opportunity to do so, thanks to my wonderful partner, and a new job. 

Before I begin, I must give a shoutout to @diapertrainingashley for writing, “The Path to Diaper Dependency.” My partner and I are using it as the basis for my diaper training, and it has been a god-send. 

As a bit of background to explain why I am going 24/7: 

I don’t think I went 24 hours without wetting myself from the ages of 4-16. These accidents almost always happened because I would laugh too hard. That was awful. Laughter--the happiest reaction one can have--became a source of embarrassment and stress. Diapers were never offered as a solution for me. Rather, I would just have to change my pants, or try to hide that I had wet myself. Thankfully, the school I went to had a uniform of dark pants. So, the wet stains weren’t readily apparent. Additionally, I played sports. So, it was normal to have extra sets of clothes.  

Upon becoming a teenager, I discovered the ABDL community. It made me feel not-so-alone; and it made me begin to view diapers as an escape from my embarrassment. Naturally, this became a fetishization. I started out-- like most ABDL’s do-- by purchasing terrible diapers from Walmart; then slightly better diapers from medical supply stores. 

Once I went to law school, I finally had my own space (as opposed to my fraternity house in college). So I finally started getting good diapers from Amazon or any other online vendor. This is when I developed a nightly routine of hanging out with friends at a bar, having a few beers, coming home, putting on a diaper, and having a few more beers. This nightly routine eventually became nightly bedwetting. This also occurred around the same time I met my partner via fetlife. 

She is also an ABD, and has been massively supportive. When we first met, I was too scared to even wear a diaper out to the store. But, thanks to her encouragement, I started wearing regularly when we would go out. Because of that support, I also became comfortable enough to tell my best friend about this part of me. She was incredibly kind about it, and made me feel more ‘okay’ with the thought of wearing diapers. 

A couple of weeks ago, I got a new job. It’s entirely remote, and I don’t have to go to court. My partner asked if that was going to affect how often I wore diapers. I joked that I could wear as often as I wanted. She mused that I could go 24/7. She knows that constantly wearing diapers has been my fantasy since I was a teenager. I told her that I’d like to try it. Since then, I have been diapered for a week straight, and I honestly don’t see it stopping anytime soon.

It has been absolutely wonderful thus far. My partner described my decision to go 24/7 as an “eventuality,” which I can’t dispute. So, I am a week into becoming diaper dependent, and I’m very excited to see where it goes. I’m also scared of being caught. Thankfully, I have the most justifiable reason to wear diaper-- I have chronic kidney stones, which can cause accidental wetting.  

If anyone has any anecdotal advice, or tips about going 24/7. I would love to hear it!

[czigonas]

There Are Frontiers, They Are Endless

Summary:

After their mission to Mandalore, Obi-wan is separated from his master. In the process of returning to the Temple, he liberates a suit of beskar'gam from someone who definitely isn't its owner, and now he just has to get it back where it belongs. Fortunately, he's made a new friend who seems willing to help.

All Hallows JangObi Week Day 6: Eldritch AU

Under the cut for length. Also on AO3. Mando'a is in-line translated here, hovertext enabled on AO3.

This is the only fic I couldn't finish entirely for the week, so the other chapters will be up when I can get them done.

Chapter 1: Push Through The Rain

Obi-wan heaves a sigh as he stares out his little hotel window at the snow-capped mountains in the distance. His mission to Mandalore is over and he’s heading home but, as is nearly always the case, there were complications.

Once Satine’s safety had been seen to, he and Master Jinn had hopped a cargo transport from Sundari to Phindar where they were supposed to swap to a passenger ship that would take them back down the Hydian Way towards Coruscant. Instead, they’d been pushed apart in the spaceport - Qui-gon seemingly disappearing between one group of travellers and the next - and when Obi-wan had reached the ship they had reserved their berths upon, it turned out instead to be running the opposite way down the Salin Corridor and he’d found himself let out on a backwater planet he only knew from the archives and history readings.

Dutifully, Obi-wan had contacted his master and, after the usual grumblings about how he should have simply known their plans had been changed and followed the Will of the Force towards the new ship, he was told to find his own way back towards the Core as fast as he could. If he found himself stuck along the way, he could comm the Temple and see if there were any nearby jedi with whom he could meet and gain passage.

He spends two weeks on Galidraan before he finds a ride on a sullustan merchant ship running from Felucia to Tanaab. The sullustans are genial and thankfully don’t ask why the capital is in an uproar and why his only luggage is a box of armour that he refuses to wear himself. He spends an additional week and a half in transit, helping the crew where he can and meditating on the beskar’gam [armour] he liberated.

Obi-wan isn’t sure at first what compelled him to take the armour. At the time, he’d justified it to himself by reasoning that his recent mission was too fresh still in his mind. Everything he had learned outside the cities - not from Satine or her entourage, but from the other mando’ade [mandalorians], the ones still holding on to their culture by the skin of their teeth - told him that a mandalorian’s armour was as important to them as his lightsaber was to him. Their soul, their connection to their culture and past, all of it was housed within their beskar’gam [armour]. So when he sees the empty shell - desecrated, displayed like a trophy in the house of a man who is decidedly not mandalorian - everything inside him screams for him to take it back, take it home.

Unfortunately, there is no easy way for him to get the armour back to Mandalore, even now that he’s been separated from Qui-gon. Obi-wan couldn’t guarantee that anyone he tried to send it back with wouldn’t simply take it and sell it or, worse, melt it down for the beskar. On the other hand, his mission was over and he was already late in making his rendezvous with his master, so there was no time to go back personally even if he knew where to deliver it.

Whenever he meditates, he feels a sense of disapproval-frustration that he’s moving away from the Mandalore sector, but also satisfaction-vindication that the beskar is no longer in the hands of such a man as the Galidraani governor had been. The problem of what to do once he reaches Coruscant hangs over his head like a fine mist; not heavy, but obscuring the futures he’s learned to hide he can see. Still, he’s given one clear vision: a clan sigil he doesn’t recognise and the fleeting impression of fertile fields and the rumble of distant thunder.

When they reach Tanaab, the sullustans land in Chocaer, which is a good quarter of the way around the planet from the Jedi Chapter House in the capital of Pandath. Fortunately, Obi-wan is adept enough at sabaac to earn the credits he needs to gain transport. He also trades the box he’s been using for a more discreet backpack and some cloth. He wraps each piece of the armour gently to prevent more damage and tucks them back out of sight, leaving his hands free if he needs them.

He roams the city at the urging of the Force while he waits for his transport, following the gentle pull at his mind to a small building tucked away at the end of a narrow back street on the outskirts of the city. Inside, the somewhat ramshackle structure turns out to be a well-kept but poorly-lit specialty store and he wanders the tightly packed shelves until he finds what was calling to him. The proprietor eyes him solemnly, but sells him the small kit without comment.

As soon as he steps back outside, the back of his neck prickles. Obi-wan glances around as unobtrusively as possible, attention catching on the figure of a human or near-human, leaning against a narrow balustrade overlooking the alley. They feel like a storm in the Force. There’s something deep and threatening about them - their emotions swirling too fast to catch - but there is also the cool, refreshing promise of a fresh start in the aftermath. Shivering, Obi-wan slips under their notice using a trick Quinlan taught him and hurries back to the port to catch his transport to Pandath.

He gets to the Chapter House just in time to secure a spot on a light freighter with a knight he’s never met who is heading back to Coruscant. Thankfully, the knight’s ship has a newer hyperdrive than the sullustans had, and it’s only three more days in space before they touch down in the Temple hangar. Obi-wan thanks the knight sincerely before scurrying away to his quarters, silently hoping Qui-gon is out and he can stash the beskar’gam [armour] he still carries in his room before his master returns.

As it turns out, he hadn’t needed to worry. Qui-gon had gone with Master Tahl on a mission to Centax-2 just the week before, leaving both Obi-wan and Tahl’s padawan Bant behind to work on their studies. Even without direct oversight, Obi-wan spends the first day back pretending as though he came back with nothing but the clothes on his back and a new appreciation for spicy foods. He meets with his friends, regaling them with stories of Mandalore and hearing about all he has missed in his year away from Coruscant. That night, sleepy and satisfied all the way to his bones from good company in familiar surroundings, Obi-wan falls into bed without a thought for his usual evening meditation.

Then, he dreams.

It is not like his normal dreams, nor does it feel like a vision. Instead, he is wrapped in a dark so deep he cannot see his hands in front of his face, but he is not afraid. He smells ozone and petrichor, tastes them on his tongue. He reaches out and the dark retreats to reveal the suit of beskar’gam [armour], hanging in space as though its wearer were simply invisible. In here, it’s complete; the kar’ta beskar [iron heart] missing from the set he took from Galidraan glints at him from its rightful place.

Obi-wan’s fingers trail over the segmented chest plates, lingering on the elongated hexagon at its heart. As he does, the garish paint - so very wrong, a violation soul-deep - flakes away, exposing the gleaming silver beneath - not a clean slate, but something like it - and new paint blooms in its wake. With new urgency, he sweeps his hands down the rest of the beskar’gam [armour], sinking to his knees so as to reach it all. When he stands again, the helmet is being held under the armour’s own arm. Its other is extended in invitation, the shape of a hand just barely emerging from the pitch around them.

Obi-wan hears the distant rumble of thunder.

He wakes up.

It’s not until three days later - the anniversary of their first leaving for Mandalore, in fact - that Obi-wan convinces himself to take a piece of the armour out of the Temple with him. Over those last three days, whenever he hadn’t been catching up on his classes or with friends, he had been using the kit he’d picked up on Tanaab to slowly strip the armour down. It had become a moving meditation, of sorts; the gentle, circular rubs of an increasingly fine-grit oil paste stripping the horrible paint and buffing out the scratches.

When the whole of it is gleaming silver, he takes one spaulder - the one that should hold the clan sigil he saw in his first vision and again in that strange dream - and wraps the rest back in soft cloth for safekeeping. He dresses himself in plain but colourful clothing, tucks his braid and bright hair under a soft cap, takes a flimsi sketch of the sigil, and leaves his lightsaber behind as he begins his search for information and, hopefully, paint. He hasn’t had a dream like that first one again, but there is something in the air when he steps down into the lower levels that brings it back to his mind. The press of the shadows once he’s away from Coruscant’s thin sunlight seems deeper than the last time he’d had to come below.

He’s barely within sight of the bright metal gates demarcating Coruscant’s largest mandalorian enclave when he recognises a storm brewing at the edge of his senses. With no care for the subtlety he should be practising, Obi-wan’s head snaps around and his focus narrows on the being he’d seen oh-so-briefly on Tanaab. He should probably be worried he’s been followed and what their intentions are but the Force gives him no warnings, only the same general caution it nudges him with whenever he meets someone new.

Their gaze drops to the spaulder, wrapped but not hidden, and Obi-wan’s grip tightens reflexively. He moves closer, warily, consciously loosening his stance as he steps into the mouth of the shadowed alley in case he needs to run or fight.

“Su cuy’gar [Hello],” Obi-wan offers, trying not to let his voice rise in question and hoping that, this close to the enclave, the stranger is a mandalorian for all that they aren’t wearing armour.

There’s a pause, a head tilt, and then an answering rumble. “Su cuy’gar [Hello], verd’ika [little warrior].”

They stand in silence for a few minutes longer, Obi-wan unsure how to or even if he should ask about his self-appointed task and the stranger seemingly willing to wait him out. Finally, just as Obi-wan is about to turn and continue on to the enclave proper, the stranger tips their chin down and straightens from their easy lean against the nearby wall.

“Why do you have only a bes’marbur [spaulder]?”

The unfamiliar word rattles around in his head before the translation settles. The spaulder, of course, the only thing of interest he’s carrying. “I need to find some paint. I didn’t want to get the wrong kind. And,” he pauses, eyes flicking between the stranger and the gate further down the walkway before pulling out his drawing. “I was hoping someone would tell me whose clan sigil this is.”

The stranger reaches out a tanned hand and takes the flimsi, suddenly so much closer to Obi-wan than they had been just a moment before. He doesn’t startle - the Force registers no threat - but he clutches the armour closer even as he gives up his rough sketch. They hum, deep and resonant, studying the drawing with raised eyebrows.

“A dangerous question, to the wrong people,” the stranger murmurs after another moment of consideration. Their head tilts to the side as they look over Obi-wan once more. “It’s House Mereel’s aliik [clan sigil].”

“As in… Jaster Mereel?”

The stranger’s gaze snaps back to Obi-wan’s face, their eyes almost black in the low light. “Yes. I’m surprised an aruetii [outsider] knows about him.”

He grimaces, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug but not disputing his outsider status. “It was part of my studies on the civil war.”

Another deep hum. “Then you know there’s only one clan that still swears to that house. You’ll find them on Concord Dawn.”

“Thank you.” Obi-wan bobs his head in a shallow nod, then glances towards the gate again. “And the paint? Do you know what kind I should get?”

There’s another long moment of silence between them before the stranger takes another step forward. The shadows of the alley seem to cling to them as they move past Obi-wan and out onto the main walkway. Without another word, they stalk towards the enclave with a predator’s grace, leaving Obi-wan jogging to catch up.

Neither speak as they weave through the sparse midday crowds. Finally, the stranger leads Obi-wan through an unpainted arch into a small courtyard. To the right is a squat domed structure, radiating heat and the low, echoing knell of an active forge. To the left is what looks like a small apartment building, where Obi-wan assumes the forge master lives. Between them, on the far side of the small yard, is their destination. Obi-wan hardly has the time to take anything in before they’re through the door and surrounded by more armour and weapons than he’s ever seen in one place.

The stranger pays absolutely no mind to the racks of weapons, stands full of sets of armour, or the bolts of armourweave in all the colours of the rainbow and more besides. Obi-wan follows them nervously as they head towards the proprietor’s counter, where nearby there are shelves containing a multitude of paints, sealants, oils, rags, and brushes. Forcing himself to focus, he reaches for the blue from his dream, only to pause at a noise from his guide. Obi-wan glances towards them, then back at the paints. Ah, he had been about to grab the mixture for durasteel alloys, not beskar. Well then.

He collects the colours he needs, then hesitates over sealants and brushes. He keeps one eye on the stranger as he studies the selection, watching their expression for clues as to what he’s meant to use. He’s almost done, ready to approach the large being in full beskar’gam [armour] who has been watching silently the whole time, when the Force pings on just one more thing. His guide is waiting impatiently at the door so, already on edge, Obi-wan grabs it without looking and adds it to his pile. He pays, croaking his thanks in what is likely a truly atrocious accent, and tries not to look like he’s fleeing as he hurries back out onto the street.

The stranger is nowhere to be seen.

Obi-wan whirls around but the early afternoon traffic is growing and, in a sea of muffling beskar, he can’t pick out the storm he’s looking for. He checks his chrono and curses to himself. He needs to get back to the Temple soon; he can’t spare any time searching for them. He turns, giving the crowd one last glance, and hurries back to his rooms to stash his purchases before his next class.

That night, he dreams again.

The armour isn’t suspended alone in the dark this time. Instead, a small, focused light blinks on over what looks like the little worktable Obi-wan has in his room. The vambraces and demi-gaunts are laid carefully on its surface, the rest of the set hanging - waiting - in the dark beyond. He steps forward with a confidence he’s not sure he would have were he awake. Thunder rumbles as though from far away; rolling distant across invisible plains.

His fingers trail over the newly-painted metal, catching on hidden latches and triggers that open the vambraces at the barest touch. There are tools on the table and he takes them up without hesitation, tightening connections and soldering loose wire. He catalogues what weapons are low on ammunition or missing altogether, completely confident in his knowledge of what the armour should be stocked with.

When the work is done, he puts down the tools and picks up the vambraces. He slides them on, feeling the latches catch like lightning sparking under his skin.

He wakes up.

A week after his trip to the mandalorian enclave, the Council calls on Obi-wan for a mission. It’s not unheard of for a padawan to be given a mission without their master present, but it’s certainly not a regular occurrence. However, with both of their masters gone together, he and Bant have been assigned to assist the MedCorps in an outreach clinic on nearby Darada. It’s an easy mission, meant to keep them busy during the lulls in their classes, but leaving Coruscant and the Temple is always exciting.

No one notices when he slips the kom’rke [vambraces] on beneath his outer sleeves.

The clinic operates out of a house on the edge of one of the older neighbourhoods of the capital. Rumour has it that it was once the childhood home of Andur Sunrider, which has both Obi-wan and Bant itching to explore as much of it as they can. The work is taxing and rewarding all in one even though, as junior padawans, they’re given mostly lighter tasks. It still doesn’t leave them with much downtime, but they spend nearly all of it snooping through the house, trying to find every one of its hidden corners.

It’s during one of the rare times they’re separated - Bant still helping Healer Ruul with inoculations while Obi-wan has already finished the inventory he was assigned to sort - that he actually finds something of note. He’s in the small library, poking around the ancient desk when he spies what looks like a kar’ta beskar [iron heart] carved into the back of one of the drawers. Curious, he runs his fingers over it and grins when it shifts to reveal a hidden compartment.

Obi-wan is not so arrogant as to think he’s the first person to ever find this secret. He is, therefore, pleasantly surprised to find there is something still inside the secret space. Gathering the contents gently, he closes the hidden door, reseats the drawer as it was when he found it, and huddles under the desk to inspect his prizes.

The first object is rather boring, at least for now. It’s an ancient data disk that unfortunately isn’t compatible with his personal datapad or the small holoprojector built into the desk he's hiding under. He turns it over in his hands for a while, thinking of whether he knows a place on Darada he would be able to look at its contents, before setting it aside regretfully. That one will have to wait until he returns to the Temple and their extensive Archives.

The second object, on the other hand, has him shivering with excitement. It’s a knife and, as he draws it from its well-cared-for sheath, he can see it’s exquisitely crafted. Obi-wan hefts it gently, testing different grips until he finds one that’s comfortable; the knife is beautifully balanced. Wanting a better look, he crawls out from beneath the desk and takes the blade over to the window. There, in the bright afternoon light, he can see how the metal shines a perfect blue-silver match to the unpainted beskar he had seen in his dreams. When he turns it over, marvelling at the craftsmanship, he has to bite down on an excited squeak when he sees that the blade carries not one but two unfamiliar aliike [clan sigils].

His immediate thought is to show the masters what he’s found, but as he goes to sheathe the blade, the kom’rke [vambraces] he wears catch his eye. This bes’kal [knife] is no doubt an important cultural artefact that should be documented and displayed but something tells him that if he lets go of it now, he’ll never see it again. In the end, there’s no debate. He slips both the dagger and the data disk into his belt pouches and pushes any knowledge or excitement over them deep behind his shields where they won’t be found.

He and Bant spend just over another week on Darada before they are cycled back to the Temple in exchange for another pair of padawans. The jump is only a few hours, and they get back shortly after midmeal. Obi-wan wastes no time changing into more inconspicuous clothing and slipping down the levels towards the mandalorian enclave he visited before. He still wears the kom’rke [vambraces] - this time over his sleeves instead of hidden - and carries the bes’kal [knife] from the Sunrider house at his waist.

He wouldn’t say he’s particularly looking for the stranger from last time as he approaches the gate, but when he feels the edges of a now-familiar storm in the Force, he won’t deny that he relaxes a little.

“Su cuy’gar [Hello],” he calls when he sees them leaning against a wall outside the enclave proper.

“Su’cuy [Hey], verd’ika [little warrior],” they reply, tawny eyes taking in the changes in his appearance with only a raised eyebrow.

Obi-wan resists the urge to fidget - the armour isn’t really his to wear but it had felt right to put it on - and steps closer instead, noting that they are wearing vambraces now also.

“I didn’t ask last time, but may I have your name? I’m Ben; he/him.”

There’s a long silence and Obi-wan thinks he might have overstepped somehow, but the stranger only pushes themself off the wall to stand before him with an arm outstretched. He grips their forearm without hesitation.

“Well met,” they rumble, releasing his arm. “You can call me Skira; he/him.”

Obi-wan isn’t surprised he hasn’t been given Skira’s real name; he certainly didn’t share his own. “Well met,” he smiles. “I wanted to thank you for your help, before.”

Skira gives a nod in response, lips twisting in an almost mocking smile. “Glad to see you put the paint to good use.” He tilts his head, one black curl falling over his forehead teasingly. “What are you doing below again, though? Need more aliike [clan sigils] identified?”

“Actually…” Obi-wan laughs a little and reaches for the knife. He draws the blade, and offers it hilt first. “I do. Two of them, in fact.”

Skira takes the bes’kal [knife] gently, almost reverently, tracing the sigils with a light touch. “Where did you find this?”

“In the home of a distant relative,” he slides around the truth with ease. “Off-world. Do you recognise them?”

“Of course,” the mandalorian murmurs, awe and excitement striking through his Force presence like lightning. He taps one of the marks: a series of abstract, curling lines that looks like a crouching predator. “The bes’uliik [Basilisk] belongs to Clan Ordo, earned during the time of Mand’alor te Kandosii [Mand'alor the Indomitable] for their prowess in riding the legendary war droids into battle.”

Gloved fingers slide to the second mark: an angular skull with four sharp teeth laid over a ring of spikes. “This is the mark of the Neo-Crusaders. Combined with the first, this blade could only have belonged to Mand’alor te Vencuyan’yc [Mand'alor the Preserver] or one of his House.”

Obi-wan watches Skira trace the sigils one more time before the bes’kal [knife] is handed back to him with obvious reluctance. He sheathes it silently, contemplating how much - if anything - to reveal. “There was a data disk with it,” he admits finally, “but I haven’t had the time to find a compatible access drive. It’s pretty old.”

Skira cracks a sharp laugh at the understatement and he finds himself chuckling along. If the disk truly is from the time of the Mandalorian Wars, then he’s not sure even the Archives will have a way to access it. When their amusement dies down, they stand in companionable silence until Skira breaks it with almost forced casualness.

“You’ll need a kute [bodysuit] if you’re going to wear any more beskar’gam [armour] than just what you have on now, you know.”

“I have an attachment kit,” Obi-wan objects weakly once he’s gotten over his shock at someone else - and a mandalorian no less - suggesting he don more of the set of armour that really isn’t his to touch.

The kit he has is meant for affixing beskar’gam [armour] to regular clothing, but it’s really only designed for temporary situations where the underlying kute [bodysuit] has been damaged beyond repair with no replacement readily available. It had been included in the servicing kit the Force had pushed on him the last time he’d come down to the enclave. Skira gives him an appropriately sceptical look, and Obi-wan tries not to wince.

“I’ll need to save up for that,” he mutters, mostly to placate his new acquaintance.

In truth, he’s not sure how he could even wear any more pieces of beskar without drawing attention to them. It was already a minor miracle that no one had commented on his wearing kom’rke [vambraces] while on Darada. Possibly under his tunics? He’d need that kute [bodysuit] for sure then. Maybe he could convince Quinlan to help him clear out a sabacc parlour or two for the funds. Before he can think too hard about it, his comm chirps. Speak of the devil…

“Ah, it seems I’ve been summoned for latemeal at Dex’s,” Obi-wan glances back at his companion, a little startled to find Skira has retreated some ways down the alley, halfway in shadow already.

“You could come along,” he offers, not sure if he hopes for agreement or not.

His head tips to the side as the mandalorian merely waves a hand over his shoulder. “N’ibic ca’nara [Not this time], verd’ika [little warrior],” Skira rumbles, his voice barely carrying the distance. “Ret’urcye mhi [Goodbye].”

“Ret’urcye mhi [Goodbye],” Obi-wan calls back, watching until he can no longer see anyone in the gloom before turning and making his way towards CoCo Town.

Latemeal with Quinlan turns into the pair of them making an early start on gathering credits. Obi-wan is on edge nearly the whole time, starting with his friend’s curiosity over the vambraces he’s wearing openly. The feeling continues as they twist down more levels into Coruscant’s seedier underbelly and Obi-wan can’t help but imagine they’re being watched. Quinlan laughs, tossing an arm over his shoulder and pointing out that of course they’re being watched, they’re young and probably look like easy marks.

The first tapcafe they wander into almost doesn’t let them play. Apparently, they at least try for a veneer of respectability down here by imposing an age limit, but they cut off their argument abruptly when they see the kom’rke [vambraces] on Obi-wan’s arms. Both padawans silently agree to simply take advantage of the change of heart and think about the reasons later. Still, Quinlan opts to sit these games out, playing the genial, distracting friend and getting them drinks that both only pretend to consume. They make sure to leave with a sizable payout but before anyone decides to accuse them of any cheating.

Quinlan is, of course, suspicious as to the reason for his sudden need for money, but he’s also a Shadow-in-training and knows that sometimes answers will only come in time, if ever. Over the next two days, the pair seek out four more sabacc parlours and swindle a hefty number of credits out of the hands of thieves and gang members and into their own pockets. The day after, Quinlan is pulled out of the Temple on a mission with Master Tholme, so Obi-wan takes the opportunity for what it is and once more makes his way down to the forge where Skira had helped him pick out paints.

With a nudge from the Force, he’s brought both the knife and the rest of the beskar’gam [armour] along, one sheathed on his hip and the other wrapped up safe in the backpack he’d gotten on Tanaab. He’s not sure if he’s disappointed or not that Skira doesn’t meet him outside the gates to guide him in. He makes the trek alone as confidently as he can, though he feels again like he’s being watched from somewhere he can’t pinpoint.

The armourer asks him very few questions, for which he’s grateful. The less he has to lie or skirt the truth, the better. He hasn’t actually painted the aliik [clan sigil] from his vision on the armour yet; something in the Force had told him to wait, wait until the perfect moment, like a hunter stalking prey. The armourer gently inspects every piece of beskar Obi-wan hands them, and then they inspect him with just as much focus.

He feels as though they see more of him than there is.

As it turns out, the credits he’s won over the last few days are enough to cover not just one kute [bodysuit] and stab vest made of good armourweave but also a spare of each and still have quite a bit left over. While the tailor takes measurements, Obi-wan thinks about the list he’d made in a dream of all the things that are missing - were used - from the kom’rke's [vambraces'] weapons caches. He stocks up on most of them, adding sturdy boots, two pairs of gloves, a headwrap in the same armourweave as his kute [bodysuit], and a spool of glistening cortosis wire he simply cannot leave behind once he sees it. Then, the tailor is done as well; he’s told to return in two days for adjustments and briskly sent on his way.

He honestly kind of expected a dream the day he picked his kute [bodysuit] up, but it doesn’t come until two days after.

It’s once again dark as the void around him, a storm rumbling an ever-present threat somewhere above, but this time he can feel himself walking. It’s slow going; whatever he’s wading through feels nearly the consistency of Devaronian black syrup. He glances down and, yes, there. He can see his hands, his torso, his legs to the knee; everything below that is swallowed by the darkness. He takes the time to examine what his dream-self is wearing: his new kute [bodysuit], the kom’rke [vambraces], one of the pairs of gloves he acquired with the gaan’bur'e [metacarpal plates] attached.

His braid swings into view on a particularly sluggish step and the cortosis wire glistens where it’s intertwined with his copper hair. So that’s what it was for. It’s not the done thing to add new beads to one’s own braid, but coloured threads and wires have been long allowed as personal statements. He catches the braid, determined to memorise the pattern. Once he’s sure he has it down, he feels the phantom ground begin to rise, drawing him gently out of the viscous pitch.

While walking becomes easier, Obi-wan notices his steps are still heavy and glances down again with a wry smile to see the tadun’bur'e [shin guards] attached to his kute [bodysuit] and the new, heavy boots with cetar’bur'e [metatarsal plates] affixed. He’s not surprised anymore that each of these dreams has him wearing more and more beskar’gam [armour].

He steps from the last of the mire and looks up again to find what pieces he’s not wearing hanging in the dark. It strikes him like lightning that he’s carrying a third of a stranger’s armour on his own body, a third of their soul. The darkness beyond the beskar’gam [armour] roils like grain fields in a storm, chased by the sound of thunder, and he feels the ghost of a hand on the back of his neck.

He wakes up.

[starsallalight]

@dreamcrs : Beth & Jo

“It’s alright,” Jo said in an effort to comfort her sister, though she was never good at comforting anyone. Beth was much better at that than she was. But still, Jo tried her best. “You don’t have to be anything other than who you are. Overthinking and all.”

Jo listened to Beth go on with an amused smile, happy to see that Beth was so excited about getting a kitten and already talking about sending pictures home to them. Marmee would be delighted, Meg would be worried about the kitten’s safety around Jo, and Laurie would tease Jo and call her an old cat lady, to which Jo would promptly give him a piece of her mind. 

Oh, she missed her family sometimes. But the two girls were in New York together for a reason. To make Jo’s writing dreams come true, and to have Beth be seen by some of the best doctors in America. Perhaps the world. 

“Well, it’s settled then. And I don’t feel like waiting until this weekend to go to shelters,” she said. “I think I’ll call in sick to work tomorrow and then we can spend the day going to shelters all around the city until we find the perfect kittens for my perfect sister.”

Beth but her lip lightly and tried to buy herself some time by brushing her hair from her eyes. Jo was devoted to her, she knew. But it often times felt that her sister saw things in her that likely didn't exist. After all, she was far from perfect. She had her faults, the same as anyone else. And she often felt a sort of pressure and image to live up to when her family talked like that.

"Can we afford that?" Beth asked, her brow furrowing. "You taking the day off, I mean. We can wait until the weekend if it's easier. I'm in no rush."

Her medical bills were expensive on their own, and insurance didn't cover it all. Even with Marmee and Father doing all they could to help, it was hard. Add that to the costs of living of living in the city, Beth couldn't help but be worried almost constantly about money. John had already offered to help them however he could, but she couldn't justify taking from Meg, Daisy, and Demi for herself.

[forzov3rwatch]

I’m gonna keep feeling like shit until I get a clear answer: at what point can you be considered “unable to disrupt” your life for a strike?

I keep seeing it. I know I should. I still follow the BDS boycotts laid out. But I also can’t comfortably sit out of classes for a week because I’ve paid thousands of dollars for them and literally can’t afford to let my grades slip, I don’t comfortably have the means of getting shit tons of groceries and storing them in a dorm room, and while I don’t exactly spend a lot of money usually I still do because sometimes I just want some food and I can’t afford to donate a lot of money regularly in case of a goddamn emergency. I don’t have a job, I’m banking on the $50 a week I’m lucky enough to have family sending me because I don’t want to operate in the red.

I feel like shit because I’m sure everyone’s going to point at me and be like “if you can afford x you should be sending it to Gaza” and I cant justify it and I feel like crap for just spreading news and information. I feel like I’m failing people and I don’t know what to do because as much as I’d love to be in a position to stay at home on strike doing absolutely nothing of monetary value to anyone I’m SoL in that regard as far as I’m aware.