#in the most painful three day spasm I have ever experienced

[sassmill]

OW

[cyberexo]

FANTASTIC BYUN | A Byun Baekhyun Series

“You were supposed to die!”

warning: this series contains cursing, mentions & includes violence, detailed injury, and death.

GUIDE POST

word count: 1.2K

FANTASTIC BYUN | ONE

"So you're still in transition?" all three of you gazed at the newest edition to your group, Bonnie, Bennett had found her on campus ground doubled over from a pain she was feeling in her wrists, so he'd offered her a little help and brought her to meet the rest of you who were once just like her.

Why any of you were the way you were is unknown, you weren't born into it, it just sort of happened- there was a pattern where before becoming "superhuman" a traumatic event had taken place before, which makes sense however, non of you could figure out exactly what went down in your personal lives before this. It was as if the transition had wiped your memory clean of its cause.

Bennet had been the first, then you, Ben, and now Bonnie, it wasn't hard to come across one another, you all attended the same university, all lived on campus, it wasn't friendly at first; no one wanted to be taken advantage of; understandably, but the more time you spent around each other you were bound to become more trusting and open.

And that's how it's been for the past two years, explorative, fun, and the thrill was worth waking up for. Swinging around campus & the city at night with no care in the world- it was peaceful. Bennett had also scheduled random practice days in case any of you were to ever be in danger- a simulation to teach you what to do as well as what not to do.

Ben had joked around about going around the city and stopping crime- but this wasn't a spider-man movie, you were nothing in comparison to the arachnid icon but it would be a lie to say that it wasn't tempting. Still the risk wasn’t worth the reward in your eyes.

"I mean- I still can't do what you all can do so I must be," one hand holding onto her wrist to ease the burning pain you've all powered through before- it hurt like hell. "Well you've got us now, and it's best to not talk about it with other people who aren't.. us- you don't want people outing you or for word to go around about you being crazy," "Yeah- I was called a marvel moron for six months all because of a simple slip up so be careful," You added.

It was easy being this way in this generation, no one would actually take you seriously; the name calling was the most any of you got.

People don't buy a word you say until you physically did something what would lead them into believing you. It would probably be amusing to see the looks on their faces for a little while but of course it had its consequences- such as loose lips & social media, from one person to the next to a couple thousand and all of a sudden you're being mobbed by people you don't even know.

You had to approach people with caution.

Especially on a bad day, a bad day being; having wrist spasms, you can't hold anything without shaking or you'd shoot a web without meaning to- when you're experiencing a bad day it is best to stay in your dorm and away from classmates and from each other, sudden jolts in your joints that can cause a drastic change in whatever physical form you were taking, one second you're sat in your chair and the next your cross legged on the ceiling- you wouldn't even know where to start an explanation for that to anybody. Let alone a class of over 200 students who's first response was to probably record it all.

"How long does it take till the pain goes away?" she asked, "Depends, for me it was only a couple of days- oh and don't take any painkillers, it does nothing." Bennett advised, you & Ben nodding in agreement- "For me it took around half a year, it won't hurt 24/7 it'll get better with time. You need to concentrate on your mentality and ability to get the webs going, the more you release the less it'll hurt & soon enough you won't even feel it,” you added, offering her a reassuring smile that she wasn’t on her own, which she reciprocated.

This intervention made you wonder if you were going to keep coming across more people like yourself, you hoped not- thankfully all of you seemed to be good people who didn't abuse their powers to inflict harm on others, however, there is no guarantee that the next will be the same.

And about that you were right.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Baekhyun who was many miles away from your group sat at his desk moping instead of studying for his upcoming final exam in architecture, he couldn’t think of anything more boring, but if he wanted to lead a seemingly normal and unsuspecting life- he needs to do what needs to be done.

Previous to his transition he was a outgoing, sensitive and down to earth earthling- and that all didn’t come crumbling down right after, he was excited and uncontainable at first, didn’t do anything that would cause harm to himself or anybody around him, it was fun- really fun, and like every other good thing, it had an end.

His excitable persona faded, the feeling of being special and feeling like somebody who was above average significance went with it- nothing in particular triggered the mood swing, at least nothing that he could remember, which of course nagged at him, he wanted to know where it all started to go wrong but he couldn’t figure it out- frustrating and angering him further, telling himself he must’ve just gotten “bored” to suffice the itch to know.

The acts of terror started off simple, easily disguised as a friendly prank or something that he didn’t intent for to go so far in case of any extreme reactions he’d get from friends- whom he’s now lost, or strangers he found interesting enough to meddle with. Unfortunately that all grew old for him quite quickly.

Quickly moving onto business that was non of his, messing with people he shouldn’t be messing with- as well as putting his hands on items he had no business fiddling with or taking. After a couple of fights and wrapping several groups of men to a single lamppost he decided he wanted to chase after the adrenaline by doing something bigger- something worse.

And there was no stopping him.

There was nobody around that was like him, to his knowledge at least, no one with a sliver of resemblance, nothing ever good comes from not being around people who are like you- sure, it’s good to surround yourself with different people every now and again but the feeling of utter loneliness engulfing your existence was unavoidable, especially for a man like Baekhyun.

He had wished there was someone around to share this power he carried, his mind however would dismiss the thought as soon as he’d have it- his being feeling threatened by nobody but the thoughts occurring in his own mind, the weigh of his own internal negativity blurring the scenes of what it would truly be like if he were to come across a person as himself.

No one should ever come close to Baekhyun, or as he likes to call himself; Fantastic Byun.

[golyadkin]

Hi there! I saw your kyphosis comic and if it’s alright with you, could I ask some questions? I’m working on a story that has a recurring character with kyphosis and I’d like it to be as accurate as possible. I’ve been researching the types and details of kyphosis, but I’m not finding a lot of information. However, it’s not your responsibility to make sure my character is accurate, so if this ask is out of line please feel free to just ignore it :)

My most specific question is, does someone with kyphosis need a mobility aid like crutches, a cane, or a walker? I’ve had some trouble finding good information on this. I assume a walker would be the worst, since it seems like it would aggravate the spine by having to lean forward all the time. I was looking at canes, because they help with balance, but all the guides say to walk with the cane on the uninjured side. Can kyphosis affect one side of the body more than the other? If so, would a cane help at all? And crutches seem to be more for support of the legs, knees, or feet than the spine.

anyway, that was all. thanks for your time and patience! And I apologize if this is inappropriate

Hi! Thank you so much for asking, I'm happy to help where I can.

For clarity, since I made that comic there's been a lot of revelations and confusion in my medical life. There are 3 different kinds of kyphosis and I had the least severe of them, postural, which means that my kyphosis was officially the result of muscular problems, not skeletal, so I am by no means the only person you should ask (the kyphosis for me is a part of a larger issue that IS skeletal but postural kyphosis is muscular) but I can answer some of this.

Kyphosis can affect one side more than the other if the person is also experiencing scoliosis, which is comorbid (I have scoliosis as well, so my pain was primarily, but not exclusively, on my right hand side). It really depends on the type and cause. The three types are postural (can be corrected), congenital (born with it), and scheuermann's (grow into it, other implications too, this one needs heavy research) so your first thing when deciding how it affects the character should be deciding which kind of kyphosis they have because that will inform everything else about how they live with it

Part of the pain of a spinal misalignment is joint pain and part of it is muscular, because if your spine is out of alignment then your muscles have to do a lot of hard work to keep you upright since your bones aren't doing their job. It can also result in injuries -- I tend to injure my back frequently because of the root cause, and I get a lot of muscle pain and spasms in addition to my joint pain. I am also more prone to disc herniation which is another thing that can cause pain and restricted movement. When your spine is the wrong shape, stuff doesn't tend to stay where it's supposed to.

I don't use mobility aids and I'm not sure if they would be helpful to others with worse kyphosis. Again, it's probably dependent on the person; kyphosis can present so differently in different people. I do, however, wear a lifting belt sometimes as a makeshift backbrace in order to give my muscles some temporary rest if I'm working for long periods of time. It gives my spine a bit more support, but it's a bad idea to wear it too long so I don't use it every day. Physiotherapy is the best thing for my back. People with sheuerman's would also be doing physiotherapy to prevent pain and maintain muscle. Not sure about congenital. Stretching is always important.

My medical problem also affects my other joints - knees, ankles, hips, etc - so I could use mobility aids if it ever got worse, but it wouldn't be spine-specific for me. If your character has kyphosis because of an underlying joint problem then they might use a cane or crutches. If it's just a spinal deformity then you'd have to ask someone a little more familiar with it than me, but I would assume it would be helpful at a certain point, just not where I'm at. A walker probably wouldn't exacerbate kyphosis because if the character is at a point of needing a walker then they'd be pretty bent over to begin with and having another thing to lean on would be akin to my back brace, an extra bit of support to relieve the stress on the body (with the added benefit of somewhere to sit down).

I hope this has all been at least a little helpful, good luck with your story!

[gabbagepatch]

It was my new birth control 3-11-2

I have not been in a good way, as anyone can tell by my previous blog posts, but things are looking up finally!

I blame nearly all of this on the birth control I was prescribed two weeks ago, Tri-Lo-Marzia. I cannot shout this enough:

IF YOU HAVE A HISTORY OF ANXIETY OR MENTAL ILLNESS TAKE TRI-LO-MARZIA WITH EXTREME CAUTION.

I stopped taking it after Friday, March 8th. It is now Monday and I feel so, so much better. I had a bad feeling about it for some reason, did some research and found hundreds of reviews from other women describing how it absolutely destroyed them with anxiety. I have not had a panic attack since I stopped taking it, although I still have some residual anxiety.

The crazy part is that my endo prescribed this birth control to me virtually, did not really discuss it at all. It was just, "I want your periods to be more regular, here's a birth control." over messaging on Healow.

Just to recap:

Two weeks ago I began feeling anxiety almost constantly. This was after the death of my family dog, who I had since I was seven years old. I thought it was some kind of delayed grief and I have had other traumas so far this year so I figured I was just having a dip in my mental health.

I began to be terrified of taking any medications, having intense panic attacks after I would take any pill. This was a huge issue because I am now experiencing daily pain and vertigo which I felt I could not medicate out of fear. I was also terrified of OTC medications, afraid of overdosing even if I only took 200mg ibuprofen.

Throughout the day I would feel short of breath, getting chest pains. When I was home alone I would just count down until someone came home because I was terrified of being alone. I was worried I was having a medical emergency and nobody would be around to help. I could not eat because I felt like I was choking constantly and had constant nausea. I would only eat if others were in the house because I was scared of choking. I lost more than ten pounds in two weeks.

At night it would be at it's worst, all I could do was sit on the couch late into the night playing Tetris trying to distract myself from the full body terror I was experiencing. I got sick (possibly viral, not so sure anymore) and began vomiting constantly and experiencing intense hot flashes.

[TMI incoming] I specifically was having the most intense sensations in my groin area, the first time it happened I was so terrified. I thought I had wet my pants the heat was so intense, I thought something was so wrong with my body I lost control of my bladder. It is the most fear I've ever felt and I've nearly drowned before. The heat flash and/or panic attack so intense my teeth began screaming in pain and my tinnitus shot through head like an arrow.

My lovely mom drove me to the ER were they treated my anxiety with Ativan, the rest of that day I cannot remember. Ever since then I had to cope with intense paranoia, daily panic attacks, heart palpitations, chest pain, a rattling within my body that would not leave, random twitches and muscle spasms, and the worst anxiety I have ever experienced. I have been in two weeks of hell.

I was a functional, healthy 20y/o girl before this. Even with the death of my dog and a new illness I was coping well. Tri-Lo-Marzia knocked me on my ass in three days, and I have to relearn how to be normal after two weeks of constant fear.

Guys, I'm being vulnerable when I tell you I thought I needed to check myself into the ER and get inpatient mental health treatment because of how debilitating this anxiety was. I was having dark thoughts, tired of being terrified for two weeks straight after the loss of my dog and a developing vestibular disorder that pulled me out of school.

Take this as a vent, PSA, whatever, but for the love of all that is good if you get prescribed Tri-Lo-Marzia please look out for this and talk with your doctor. It feels criminal that I was prescribed this medication for a nonemergent issue, with absolutely no preparations or warnings from my doc when there are hundreds of women reporting symptoms just like (or worse!) than mine.

I'll be telling my endo about this and encouraging her to remember this next time she prescribes it. Especially for patients who have a history of GAD or other mental illness. Stay safe and informed, ask your doc questions.

[kyovtani]

Bodyguard!Kawa who teases you and flirts with you without realising how much it affects your cute little body. Until one day you go to him, begging for him to follow through with his teasing promises.

okay nonie this lit just had my corruption kink lights go OFF pls- this is so delicious I LOVE IT HERE–

— cw: corruption kink, teasing, kawa mocks your whimpers, light hard dom!kawa, clit play

when oikawa first starts working for your father, it's not his job to look after you. he's there for your mother and most of the time he's supposed to be with your dad but after a while, he finds himself at your door and by your side.

he doesn't question it, he just knows your father wants you to be safe and trusts him the most, which is why he chose him, of all guards. and to say that oikawa enjoys being (one of) your personal bodyguard(s) is an understatement.

in the beginning, he flirts with you every now and then, knowing that none of his fellow colleagues are going to rat him out to the boss because everyone knows what a big flirt he is.

as time goes by, his flirting turns more and more suggestive and oikawa begins to become a lot bolder the more confident he gets. the only reason for this being the fact that he found out about your lack of satisfaction from your most recent little boy-toy.

he knows you're not the most experienced, only having had a couple of boyfriends before and only a few of them actually getting to touch.

but oikawa is also very much aware of just how naughty you are. he's got a few glimpses of your little twitter account which is basically filled with rather hardcore porn. who can blame him, though? it's not like you're being subtle about it anyway.

you always leave your door room open a little, as if you wanted Oikawa to hear your little moans and whiny begs as you touched yourself in broad daylight, not giving two fucks about all the security guards in your house.

and as the weeks fly by, tooru finds himself growing more and more aroused by the mere sight of your face. you're just so sweet, so kind, you look so innocent and pure but it's because nobody knows about all those little toys in your drawer, the ones you like to stuff your tiny little cunt with almost every night of the week.

but Oikawa knows. he knows how badly you want- no, need someone to fuck you properly.

and after getting to know you for quite a while, Oikawa also knows exactly what to say to get you all riled up. and even though you like to act as if it doesn't affect you, both of you are very well aware of how badly you usually ruin your little lacy panties whenever he teases you.

his favorite thing to do is annoy you with the fact that none of your boyfriend has ever made you cum, something he heard you saying to your best friend on the phone and his absolute favorite fact to exist ever since.

he wants to get you all worked up to the point where you can't take one single breath without thinking of him and his fat cock.

and it doesn't take much for him to do, either. he's got you wrapped around his finger after all.

"been starring at my cock all day, angel baby", he hums, his pretty lips stretched into a shit-eating grin as he catches your gaze drop down to his clothed crotchf for the nth time, "is it because you know it's bigger than any of the little boy toy-cocks you've had or is it because you want it inside your little pussy, hm?"

you whimper at his words. not only those, but also his attitude, his cockiness, his confidence and that stupidly pretty face- all of these things make it so much harder for you to keep your composure.

but you remain strong. most of the time.

however, after weeks and weeks of ongoing teasing, you can't keep it together any longer.

tooru, who's basically always ready to tease and annoy you, can't help but look at you with big eyes and parted lips when you come to stand in front of his door at three in the morning. tear stained cheeks, pouty lips, soft sobs and thighs tightly pressed together– a sight tooru never knew he needed this badly until now.

"p-please, 'kawa", you cry softly, your voice a mere whisper as you look up at him, "please fuck me. take my pussy, make it yours, stuff it full of your cum- i don't care, just please make the pain go away."

"does it hurt, angel girl? does your cute little cunt hurt?", oikawa whispers, taking your soft face into his big hands, the cold metal of his rings burning against your heated skin.

you start nodding hastily, sobbing even heaver when he suddenly pushes his leg in between yours, pressing his strong thigh right against your barely covered cunt.

oikawa can't stop the loud moan from escaping his throat at the feeling of your throbbing pussy, the wet spot on your little panties slowly growing in its size and before he even gets to say anything, you start grinding against him.

"i need you, 'kawa", you whisper and bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhale his heavy scent, a mixture of mint and cigarette smoke, "i'm all yours."

"say it, again, pretty girl", oikawa grunts, pushing the leaking tip of his thick cock against your throbbing clit, watching your juices dribble out of your little hole with amusement gleaming in the brown of his eyes, "i want to hear yyou say it."

you gulp harshly, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as the arousal sets your body on fire, your head spinning with such fast pace, you struggle to breathe properly.

"i'm your d-desperate little cockslut, 'kawa", you whimper, nervously wrapping your fingers around his delicate wrist in hopes of getting him to slide his fat cock into your spasming hole, "want you to fuck me stupid, just like you promised."

at the sound of oikawa's deep chuckle filling the tension-filled space of his room, you can't help but let out a choked out moan, looking at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"y-y-y-yes you are, angel baby", he teases you, pushing his lips into a fake pout as he has you look into his eyes, lining himself up with your sopping wet entrance, "and now i'm going to show you how pretty little sluts like you deserve to be fucked."

and as he slowly pushes his cock into your tight cunt, stretching your poor little hole out and basically splitting you into half to the point where the first waves of your orgasm hit when he's only halfway in, oikawa sits back and watches the way you finally cum for him and him only.

[swtorpadawan]

Beautiful

The women’s screams of pain and anguish echoed throughout the throne room of the Emperor’s Fortress.

Lord Scourge, the Emperor’s Wrath, merely watched impassively, his stoic expression and posture giving nothing away.

Behind him, standing tall on his raised podium, stood his Master. The Sith Emperor.  

His most hated enemy.

The Emperor’s Force Lightning continued to pour from his fingers, all directed at the source of the screams.

In front of Scourge, writhing in torment on the floor, was a young human female.  Her name was Kayeh Antilles.

This woman was a Jedi Knight, already a legendary warrior throughout the galaxy despite her relative youth. She had foiled the Emperor’s plans for Darth Angral to devastate Tython and the Republic using the Desolator super-weapon. (He understood that the Jedi had decreed her ‘the Hero of Tython’ to honor her victory.) She had foiled Scourge’s own efforts on Quesh to execute Sajar, the former Dark Council member who had betrayed the Empire and the Sith by joining the hated Jedi Order. Over the course of the last several months, she had likewise crippled or hampered the Empire’s efforts on nearly a dozen other worlds, all to impressive effect for a single Jedi.  

Scourge did not care about any of that, however.

For Scourge, this woman – this Jedi – represented something else entirely: The culmination of a prophecy the Force had bestowed upon him three hundred years before.

Antilles continued to scream, lying mere feet from him.

Her raven-black hair, previously bound back tightly in a bun, had long since come loose, thick strands flying around her shoulders as her body continued to spasm under the horrific assault.

Her lightsaber had been taken and turned over to the Overseers. She had been stripped of her armor and robes and was left clad only in her short tunic vest and trousers. Scourge further knew that she had been sedated even before she had even been taken from her bacta tank. Her arms and wrists were shackled securely behind her, the Force-cuffs cutting off the young Jedi from the Force. (Theoretically. Scourge observed, noting her remarkable resistance thus far.) Four Imperial Guards had dragged her into the throne room, unceremoniously shoving her down to her knees at the foot of the steps leading up to the Emperor’s throne.

Had she been anyone else, Scourge, thinking on a professional level, might have considered the combination of all these measures to have been somewhat excessive.

But even as weakened, disoriented and bound as she was when she’d been brought into the chamber, Antilles had immediately started struggling to get to her feet. But then Vitiate’s Force lightning began raining down upon her, driving her to her knees and then to the floor. Scourge doubted she was even aware of where she was; only of the pain being inflicted upon her. The Emperor’s ritual for binding someone to his will did not require them to be completely lucid.

It only required them to be conscious when they finally broke.  

In the weeks since the doomed assault on the Fortress, the other Jedi – Leeha Narezz and Warren Sedoru – had each broken after a single session with the Emperor, giving in to their hatred and turning into loyal servants of his will. Even Master Tol Braga, the strike team’s leader and a member of the Order’s illustrious Council, had found his will crumbled by the end of his second. Each of them had, by now, passed a multitude of tests to demonstrate their devotion to the Emperor and to the Dark Side.    

Antilles was now on her sixth session.

Scourge privately wondered if even Revan had lasted so long. The iconic Jedi had seen both sides of the Force and had been the most knowledgeable Force-practitioner Scourge had ever known, next to the Emperor himself.

Yet even Revan – and his partner Malak – had eventually broken all the same, becoming Sith Lords themselves and servants to the Emperor’s will. All well before even Scourge’s time.

Antilles… lacked Revan’s knowledge of the Force, but perhaps – perhaps! – rivalled or even surpassed him in her untapped potential power in the Force. She seemed a devout follower of the light, but Scourge had felt the touch of darkness in her spirit all the same, back when he’d encountered her on Quesh.

The girl – Antilles’ apprentice, the former Child of the Emperor who had inexplicably broken free of his control – had been imprisoned down in the Fortress’ hanger along with the other members of Antilles’ crew. For the moment, they had not been interrogated or otherwise harmed. Scourge suspected that Vitiate was keeping them undamaged for some special purpose after he finally bent Antilles to his will.

Perhaps I can use them for my own purposes. Scourge mused, silently. When the time comes.

Whatever information Antilles’ followers may have had about the Republic or the Jedi was irrelevant to the Emperor; let the Dark Council and the military concern themselves with the progress of the war. The true servants – the Hand, the Children and Scourge himself, the Wrath – were all focused solely on the Emperor’s grander plans.

Plans that Scourge secretly intended to see foiled no matter what the cost.

The Jedi’s back arched as she continued to twist and turn in suffering. Scourge had interrogated and tortured hundreds of individuals over the course of his career, dating back even to well before he’d been named the Emperor’s Wrath. Inevitably, even the strongest and bravest individuals would inevitably beg for their lives, or at the very least plead for a quick death to end their suffering. The mind and body simply were not designed to withstand the prolonged suffering a skilled torturer could inflict.

Kayeh Antilles’ screams were incoherent. There were no words. Each time the lightning had struck her, she’d attempted to stifle a scream only to be quickly overcome. Through it all, she’d never once begged. She’d never said anything discernable at all.

The storm of lightning ceased as Vitiate paused for a moment, a natural step in the process. Scourge knew full well that it was best to give a subject a brief respite, so they did not become desensitized to what was being done to them.

He watched as the brutalized Jedi seemed to suppress a sob, then slowly, gingerly rolled up onto her knees before the throne.

For a moment, he was certain that this would be the moment where she finally broke and submitted to the Emperor. Where she would pledge herself to his will, and join her fellow Jedi in becoming his servant, his weapon… his slave.

Impossibly, he watched her right knee come up, as her foot planted and started to push off the floor.

She was trying to stand up.

Alone. Weaponless. Bound. Drugged. Tortured. Injured. Exhausted beyond reason. Surrounded by the most powerful being in the galaxy, his personal executioner, four of his Imperial Guards, and a whole station full of his servants… and she was attempting to stand.

To defy him.

Scourge watched transfixed. Her hair was in her eyes as her head tilted upward towards the throne. Had Scourge not been standing almost directly in front of her, he might have missed the look in her eyes. He doubted if even Vitiate himself noticed. Her deep green eyes weren’t full of defeat, or anger or even pain.

Just defiance. Defiance at this being who had imprisoned her. Defiance at this creature who had caused her such pain.

It was the most beautiful sight Scourge had witnessed in three hundred years.

There was fire and steel in this young Jedi. A resolve that refused to give in, even in the face of absolute power. Combined with her skills as a warrior and her immense potential with the Force, she was a remarkable specimen. The Emperor’s Wrath felt stirrings deep within him, the shadows of emotions not experienced for centuries…

The moment of awe came to an abrupt end as heard a sound much like a snarl from behind him.

The explosion of lightning was more focused this time, almost a solid blast of power as the Emperor focused his rage. It struck Kayeh Antilles square in the chest, knocking her clean off her feet and driving her back several meters in a blast of Force.

It was over as quickly as it began.  

The stream of lightning ceased, as Antilles lay in a heap on the ground, unconscious.

But not defeated.

There would be no submission this day.

Scourge felt a surge of cold rage bubbling up behind him. He hadn’t felt this much anger and hatred coming from the Emperor since the confrontation with Revan and Meetra Surik on Dromund Kaas three hundred years before.  

Though no words were spoken, the four Imperial Guards converged on the fallen Jedi following the Emperor’s unspoken will. The quartet would drag her back to the bacta tanks for as long as her body needed to recover. The injuries she had endured this day, like those she had suffered when she’d been captured and during her first five ‘sessions’, would not result in permanent scars or other physical damage: The bacta would see to that. The scars to her spirit would be another matter, but such wounds were typical when driving someone to the Dark Side.  

Her defiance in the face of the Emperor would mean nothing in the end, of course. She would eventually break in time. Everyone did.

But Scourge now felt a renewed sense of confidence. She would fall, but she would eventually free herself, as Revan had done. And in that moment, he would be ready to ensure her success.

Perhaps – if he were very fortunate – he would bare witness to the beauty of her defiance once again.

He almost – almost! – grinned in anticipation. [Tagging people who liked my teasers - Thank you! @a-muirehen , @cinlat , @introversiontherapy, @tishinada , @sleepswithvillains , @theravenassassin95 , @blueburds , @actualanxiousswampwitch​ ]

[happyandticklish]

Remnants of Humanity

Notes: Read through Ender’s Game recently, and holy fuck is that book ever taking over my life. Decided to write something for it because the characters were so great and deserve to have some tk content for them!

Summary: Valentine remembers something from Ender’s past and shows him just how much humanity he still has left. 

Ender’s legs dangled off the precipice of the dock, the edges of his toes flirting with the water. It wasn’t the same as Earth, but it was such a close approximation that his chest throbbed with long forgotten memories. He had been here for three years now, slowly cultivating the planet into something livable. Shakespeare had soon grown to be a land quite like any other, with people who fought and laughed and died all the same as they had on Earth. There were a few key differences, of course. Here there was no Peter. Here he wasn’t responsible for the death of an entire species. Here he didn’t have to be a killer.

He had come to the lake on a whim, on the way back from a walk with Valentine. He had explained that he only needed to check up on something back at the base, but they both knew that was bullshit.

In all fairness, it did take her quite a bit of time to finally track him down. By the time she had, he had almost lulled himself into a vague imitation of sleep. Not completely. Never completely. Still, she did manage to startle him when she called out, “So this is where you’ve been going.”

Ender cursed his jump. He hadn’t realized the effect peace would have on him and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. Before, sneaking up on him would have been a laughable concept; now it was a common reality.

“I like it here,” he answered as she sat beside him. Her feet couldn’t reach the water. There had been a time, long ago, when she had towered over him. Not anymore.

“Because it reminds you of Earth?”

Her voice was gentle, familiar. He didn’t answer; he didn’t need to. Valentine often knew his thoughts before he even knew them himself.

Instead, he said, “Do you think I can ever get it back?”

“Get what back?”

“Childhood.” He was fourteen now and already mostly an adult. He hadn’t been a child since he was three. “Getting to be a real person instead of a commander. Playing games and worrying about school, eating an entire cake and then throwing up afterwards. Do you think I could be like them?” He pointed across the lake, to a group of children who laughed and stumbled through the grass, pushing each other out of the way as they raced after some object.

Valentine watched them too and, like he knew she would, shook her head. “No. Childhood is a concept we were never allowed to believe. Once you learn what it’s like to be an adult you can never go back.”

Ender nodded. He had always known that, but it made him feel better to hear the words out of her mouth. He glanced back over the lake and the two fell back into an almost peaceful silence.

Valentine examined him. He had grown so much since that day eight years ago when Graff had first shown up on their doorstep. His arms and legs were gangly and long with corded muscle, and the bulk of his chest was evident underneath his shirt. Even his hair, which back then had been overgrown with soft curls, was now cut back into a neat shave. Technically speaking, he could have grown it out long if he wanted to, but Ender had confessed that he liked having it out of the way; it was a constant that he could always rely on.

Of all the changes, the most apparent was in his face. His eyes were no longer wide with childlike wonder. Now they held all the pain of the universe in them, pain he had caused, pain he had felt, pain he had fought to prevent. There was a profound sadness reflected in it, but it was sadness he had already felt long ago and accepted. Now it lived with him, a reminder of everything he had been forced to become. There were no words she could say that would change that.

She reached out and placed a hand on his knee as well, a simple fragment of human touch to remind him that he was still just that—human. He didn’t move away or even show that he acknowledged her touch, and she took that as a sign of acceptance. She could feel the muscle and bone underneath her fingertips, all the different parts that made up the enigma that was Ender.

She was reminded then of a moment long ago, of a different lake and a different Ender, of her hand on his same knee. It had been so long since then, that she wasn’t sure if he even remembered. It was that memory that prompted her to do what she did next, hoping against everything that it would work this time.

Suddenly and without warning she squeezed her hand right above the bone of his knee. Last time she had done this Ender had caught her. This time he jumped, his leg jerking in her grasp.

His head snapped to look at her, their eyes locking for several, tense seconds. Then he glanced away and coughed, staring at the water. “Oh. Right. I almost forgot I was ticklish.”

Ender Wiggin, the war hero, ticklish. The idea was ridiculous even as she thought it. Who would believe her if she told them? Who would be brave enough to try?

Watching him to make sure it was okay, Valentine squeezed once more. Ender jumped again, seemingly unable to prevent his reactions. A smile slowly, unwillingly crept onto his features. He still wasn’t stopping her.

“I won’t, if you don’t want me to,” she assured him, giving him an out, as well as an oppurtunity he hadn’t been given since he was still living at home; an oppurtunity to be vulnerable once more.

When he didn’t say anything she started to take her hand away, disappointed. The second her hand left his knee, however, he reached out suddenly and grasped her wrist, placing it back where it had been. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and he continued not to speak, but she could read the answers in his face. He needed this; that much was obvious.

He let go of her hand after a moment, after he could see that she had understood his unspoken wishes, and waited for the inevitable. One squeeze. Two. A smile, wobbling. Three. A muffled noise that almost resembled laughter, not that anybody would be so bold to assume so. Four. Then she moved her fingers up slightly, using her thumb and forefinger to dig into the sensitive bundle of nerves contained there.

Ender snorted. They both paused at the noise, shocked by the sound of Ender Wiggin laughing. The sound was stilted and awkward, unaccustomed to being in use, but the potential was there. It was in that moment that Valentine made up her mind to make up for lost time, and dug in with real vigor this time.

Both hands now, both knees, and endless squeezes and pinches that had Ender nearly flying off the dock. All manner of noises escaped him now, chuckles and squeaks and snorts from before, each one adding an extra year onto her life. The sound of his laughter, loud and carefree, quickly became addicting. She discovered that spidering her nails over his kneecaps caused him to giggle, something she had never known before because Ender had never opted to stay still for this long. Even now, his legs shook and jittered underneath her touch, his body’s attempt to save himself from the sensation.

“W-Wahahait!” he cried when she went for his torso, hands colliding with his sides. She knew he didn’t mean it, otherwise he would be stopping her right now. Ender didn’t let anyone do anything to him that he didn’t want. It was almost a reassuring quality about him, something she could always count on. She climbed her fingers up his sides, smiling at the way he crumpled underneath her.

“I can’t believe you’re still this ticklish,” she commented, feeling brave. There was always a moment of hesitation now when she talked with him, where she couldn’t be sure if she was speaking with her brother or to the commander of the IF fleet. There was no question in that moment, however, about who Ender was. “I thought all that soldier training might have made you immune.”

Ender fall back against the dock, a victim to her playful assault. “Wehehe w-weheheren’t trahahained agahahahahainst t-tihihickling!” His legs curled up defensively, but his arms flailed about wildly in the air as he struggled to keep himself from stopping her.

“A shame. Could you imagine if the enemy got ahold of this information?” Valentine teased, poking his stomach relentlessly. Ender squeaked, both hands shooting down before coming back up to cover his face. “You would be doomed for sure.”

“I-I wohohould nehever l-lehet thehem get that clohohose!” Ender insisted, grinning underneath his hands.

“And if they did?” She squeezed his hip, chuckling at his resulting spasm. “What would you do then? What brilliant counter-strategy would you employ, oh great war hero?”

Ender’s hands came down to grab her wrists, the flood of ticklish sensations too much for him to bear. “I-I wohould launch a cohounterattack!”

She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to grab her hands back. “What do you mean—ahaha, Ender, nohoho!”

Valentine squealed as Ender’s hands flew in devious patterns all over her torso, squeezing her hips and sides and vibrating fingers into her ribs. It had been too long to since she too had experienced such a simple thing as tickling, aside from the teasing poke from Peter on occasion. It certainly wasn’t the same as this. She found that she was far more sensitive than she remembered, and instantly collapsed on the ground, weakly batting away his hands.

“W-Wahahait, thihihis ihihihisn’t fahahahair!” she insisted, bursting into giggles as Ender scribbled fingers all over her stomach. “Y-Yohohou weheheren’t suhuhupossed to fight back!”

“Always expect the unexpected,” he reminded her, a smirk playing at his lips that spoke of his victory, and she quickly dissolved into laughter and squirming once more.

It was nearing late evening by the time the two finally backed off of each other; though Ender had eventually let her go, she had turned it quickly back on him and the night had become  a series of quick pokes and teasing jabs. They lay side-by-side on the dock afterwards, watching as the sky glittered with the approach of stars. Night on Shakespeare had been strange at first, as the star patterns here were completely different from Earth. Ender had created his own constellations for them in his mind. He never wrote them down or told anyone, leaving them as one of the few leftover things he kept for himself.

“Thank you,” he said after a beat of silence. “I think I needed that more than I knew.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced over to see Valentine smiling at him. “Anytime. It’s nice to see you laugh after…”

She didn’t finish, but the rest of the sentence was implied. After everything that happened to you. Ender was grateful too. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep in the presence of another person for the first time in almost three years. 

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Perfect Fit ~ KTH [Request]

➳➳➳Word Count: 2.2K

➳➳➳Pairing: Taehyung x reader

➳➳➳ Genre: FLOFFY and Soulmate!AU

➳➳➳ A/n: I used Taehyung in this because the baby boy deserves more attention on my account that being said I am really sorry it’s so short.

Taehyung was pacing nervously around the door of the hospital room you were sitting in, you'd been inside with a doctor for the last hour for physiotherapy on your back and he was waiting to know more and how it was going. You and Taehyung had been together for three years and this was the most nervous he had been since the day that he met you.

"Tae, I'm sure everything is fine. You'd feel it if it wasn't right?" Jimin questioned looking at his friend, Jimin was right. If you were in any kind of pain Taehyung would feel it thanks to the soulmate trait you both shared you shared pain. 

You were running late around the BigHit building, it was your first day and you were late so it wasn't a good impression. You groaned holding your wrists as you ran through the building, you'd woken up that morning to a splitting in your pain in your wrist, from your soulmate no doubt. You'd known you had a soulmate the moment you woke up with a pain in your leg when you were a teenager and you hadn't done anything. It started with small bruises that would appear from nowhere and you had no idea where they would come from, then you felt the pain of a broken leg and you realised what was going on. 

"I'm so sorry I was late," You mumbled looking into the room full of people, they were crowded around someone sitting in a chair, you walked over to him and looked at him.

"You okay?" You asked looking up to the boy who was sitting and staring at you, his brown eyes were boring into yours as you stared up to him. You were new on sight first-aider that BigHit had hired for some of their groups who were a little on the clumsy side of life.

"He was attempting a backflip," You looked over to the tallest member who had spoken, 

"I'm Namjoon, he's Taehyung."  

"Y/n, let me just get my things ready." You reached behind you and pulled the small bag to the front of your body when Namjoon and Taehyung spotted the giant purple bruise along your wrist.

"Are you alright?" You glanced up to Namjoon whose eyes were full of concern and you looked back down to what they were staring at, 

"Yeah, I didn't-I- My soulmate?" Namjoon nodding in understanding, it was common knowledge that many people had soulmate traits and none of you had put two and two together about it being the same wrist as Taehyung who that you had the same bruising around it. 

"I'll ice it and then heat it to bring your swelling out, then if it's still bad I'll take you to the hospital." As soon as you placed the ice pack onto his wrist you both let out a hiss and then stared at one another.

"Did that hurt?" He asked but you stared at his wrist,

"I'm supposed to ask you that." You laughed softly trying to make the air less tension-filled but he was serious about it, 

"Did it hurt you though?" Namjoon asked now intrigued by how everything was working within this and you nodded gently and looked at his wrist not wanting to drawer attention to yourself than was already on you but they weren't about to let this go that easily.

"How long have you been experiencing it?" You shrugged your shoulders, 

"Since I was around 16 I had a pain in my leg one morning when I woke up." All eyes went to Taehyung who was thinking back to when he broke his leg as a teenager and then it exploded into a huge conversation about when your pains would link up together. 

"Did you ever break your elbow?" He questioned remembering when he was 20 that he had a huge pain in the to his elbow, 

"Yeah, I fell off a rock." You laughed at the memory and Taehyung laughed along with you as you began to tell him the story of how it had happened.

From that day it was filled with both of you trying to be careful with everything, neither of you wanted to hurt the other so you were being extra cautious with everything happening around you. You began dating after a year of being friends not being able to dismiss the connection you felt between one another and not just because of the pain sharing trait you shared but because you got along amazingly and no one could deny you were perfect together. Things between you both were like something from a movie, you moved in together and you quit working for BigHit since in your contract there was a clause about dating within the company and you didn't want to get fired,

"Tae? Tae you okay?" Jungkook asked during practice that morning, 

"I don't know." He mumbled touching the bottom of his back and looking around the room, he could feel his back spasming and he knew instantly that there was something wrong. 

"Get me my phone." He groaned sitting down on the floor and trying to push through the excruciating pain he was starting to feel throughout his back, Jungkook rushed over to the bags and brought it over to Taehyung who was doing his best not to scream out. 

"Shit, she's not answering!" He threw his phone in the direction of the bags again and Jungkook helped him up, 

"Get Jin to get the car," Jungkook grumbled to Jimin who had just walked into the room. 

You screamed out in pain as you felt the pain radiating from the bottom of your back and up to the top of your neck, a doctor was standing outside out Taehyung who looked like he was ready to burst into tears and you felt bad. You knew he was feeling the same pain you were and you felt like crying just from that and the pain put together, 

"Y/n?" Your eyes looked over at him and he looked at the floor, 

"The doctor is going to explain it." The bed was moved up and you were looking at Taehyung who was avoiding your gaze and a doctor was staring at you as if you were some broken toy,

"We're doing our best..."

"Doing your best for what?" You questioned confused by what was happening no one had explained anything to you since you arrived, all you knew was it agony to try and move anything except your hands and arms. 

"We have a drug that will stop the pain your experiencing but there are some side effects." He went on to explain that the side effects of using the drug were losing the ability to walk until they could get you a permanent solution. There was no explanation for why the pain was so bad and they were going to have to run countless tests until they discovered what was happening and why you were going through what you were going through.

"I won't be able to walk?" He shook his head at you, Taehyung had been silent throughout the whole thing, 

"Will he feel anything?" He shook his head, 

"But he'll still be able to walk, and you'll have full use of your upper body." The doctor explained but you didn't need to hear anything else if it was going to stop the pain Taehyung was experiencing you would do anything.

"I'll take it," The doctor tried to speak over you but you shook your head at him and insisted it was what you wanted to go through with, you couldn't stand the thought of hurting Taehyung anymore than you had. 

"Y/n..."

"Tae if it means you're not in pain anymore I'll do anything." The doctor left the room to fill paperwork for you and Taehyung came closer, promising to do everything he could to make it easier for you, to find any kind of treatment to make you better. 

"T-Tae, you don't want to stay. I'm not going to be able to-"

"Don't you dare start that, I'm not going to leave you at the first signs of trouble, I will never leave you." He promised, kissing the top of your head and then holding your hands in his. 

That was the last day you could walk, after that, you were placed into a wheelchair and countless amounts of physiotherapy classes, and after two years of being in the chair doctors began to develop on the treatment course you were on, and a small surgery was performed on the lower part of your back to find out what was causing the pain which was discovered to be a dislodged piece of bone, unsure of how it happened they replaced it with a metal disc in its place to support you from that point it was more physiotherapy, Taehyung coming along to each of them never once letting you go through it on your own.

"Tae?" He was pulled from the daydream was having when he heard Jimin's voice calling him again, he looked at his friend and sat down on the chair next to him. 

"You both would have felt something when they took her off the drugs right?" He knew Jimin was right, they'd taken you off the drug that stopped you from walking when they did the surgery and you were never placed on them again. That's why the classes were important, they were treating you to walk again. But it didn't stop his mind from racing over all the possibilities that could have happened, the surgery could have gone wrong back at the start of the year and now it was only becoming clear, what if the physio wasn't working and you were just being pushed more and more and it was making it worse. 

"Dude. Relax." The door clicked and they both stared up to look, the doctor walked out with a blank expression on his face and left without speaking to either of them, 

"Y/n?" Taehyung called out nervously, today was the day you were supposed to walk but when he entered the room you were still sitting in the chair with a grim look on your face. 

"Can you push me into the hall please," You mumbled not making eye contact with him, he nodded and wheeled you out to Jimin whose smile dropped from his face upon seeing you and you sighed. 

"Taehyung can you get me a bottle of water please?" He walked over the vending machine and you smirked to yourself getting up from the chair and walking over to him steadily, Jimin's mouth fell agape as he watched it. 

"I didn't want this one baby, the one of the top shelf." Taehyung nodded without realising you were standing next to him and reached up for the drink dropping it on the floor as soon as he noticed you standing there. 

"BABY!" He screamed alerting some of the other people that were in the hallway with you, he pulled you into a hug and you began crying into his neck as you wrapped your arms around him. 

"You're walking!" He yelled watching as you walked over to Jimin and gave him a hug, he was also crying about you being able to walk once again. 

"I'm walking." You giggled turning around and facing Taehyung who was still shaking his head in astonishment at you,

"I still have to come to classes and take the chair for when I'm tired but I can walk!" You yelled excitedly, Taehyung wasted no time rushing over to you and picking you up in his arms lifting you above his head and bringing you back down to kiss you as he'd seen in all the movies and dramas. 

"Tae we're in public." But he didn't care, all he cared about was celebrating the fact that his girlfriend could walk again and he could finally talk about a subject you had touched upon before.

"Jimin go and get the car." Jimin walked away knowing that meant we want to talk along and Taehyung sat you down on the chair beside him and you stared at him. 

"We talked about this before-" Was he really about to do this in the middle of a hospital, you'd had this conversation a year into your back being the way it was and you said no then and there was only one reason.

"Here?" You giggled watching as he slipped down onto one knee and pulled out a blue velvet box and staring up at you, 

"Will you, Y/n Y/l/n do my the honour of becoming my wife?" You teared up as he stared at you, you didn't care that there were people all staring at you both in the hallway or that they were pulling out cameras to capture the beautiful moment exchanged between you. 

"Of course," You giggled dropping from the chair and kissing him passionately ignoring the looks from passers-by who weren't impressed by the show of love since it was a hospital.

"I love you." You mumbled against his lips, he pulled away sliding the ring onto your finger and smiling at the perfect fit for you.

Tagline: 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​  @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @lyoongx​ @callingmyangel​ @fan-ati--c​ @mitzwinchester​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @rjsmochii​  

[ironhoshi]

quinlan and obi + 23 (if you're still taking ficlet prompts!)

This...came out angstier than planned? No, that isn’t quite right. The song is:

We Have It All by Pim Stones

This is a bit of a disclaimer to just let you know I was bleeding my emotions into this because over the weekend my aunt passed away. I haven’t really talked about it much, but this prompt response I wrote is 100% fueled by the song and by my own emotions.

I apologize for the angst.

The reflection in the mirror was mocking him. 

The way his eyes were red and raw, the way his very flesh seemed to be paler than normal, the way he just didn’t recognize what he was seeing. How had the person looking back at him not been fast enough and somehow also fast enough? Why hadn’t-

“Obes,” the voice cracked through the small fresher like a bolt and Obi-Wan tensed. He jerked his gaze away from the mirror and raised an eyebrow in question. “You can’t spend all day staring at yourself, even if I do agree that you have a wonderful face. You've got a kid to wrangle now…"

Anakin, he had Anakin to take care of now. He had promised Qui-Gon. 

Obi-Wan felt another wave of emotion hit him and before he could release the trauma into the Force, well, Quin acted. Arms encircled him and he was yanked into a hug.

This was all very unbecoming of a Jedi.

"He-" His voice cracked before dying off for a moment. Qui-Gon had been the closest thing he had ever experienced as a father figure. His Grandmaster had left the Order a long time ago and he didn't want to bother Feemor or Master Yoda with his problems. Problems, when had grief become problems?

Losing Qui-Gon wasn’t a problem, no, it was a wound.

"Shh, I got you," Quinlan whispered before pressing a kiss to his temple. "I know, I know."

When he closed his eyes he could still see the burning amber, the black lines etched in red, and he could see the pure fury. It was hypnotizing. That brilliance had struck down his Master and, so in turn, he had forced it to fade violently. 

He had returned the favor.

"What if I can't-" Limbs shifted and then Quin was grabbing his face, forcing him to stare with stinging eyes. 

"Nothing is forever, he is claimed by the Force, but you are still here. Can you hear me? I'm begging you, Obes, hear me. You aren't him, you are you, and you are going to walk this path with me by your side. I am going to corrupt little Ani so much that you'll spend your days as his Master swearing at me." 

"I don't want to drag you down with me in my failure-" Words died on his lips as he found them suddenly bruised under Quinlan's. He froze, he felt pain, he felt like crying, but most of all- he felt loved. Obi-Wan threw his arms around Quin's neck and leaned into the kiss. 

He barely had anything and yet, somehow, he had it all. He had Quinlan and he had Anakin. The rest he would figure out once he walked out into his apartments. There was a boy, who was probably terrified, that needed him to be stronger. 

"There you go," Quin said softly as he pulled back from the kiss. "We will manage. We always manage. Now come on, Kenobi, your padawan needs a hug as well."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly and shifted just enough to rest his forehead against Quinlan's shoulder. He wanted to scream his apologies to his Master. Could Qui-Gon forgive him for not being good enough yet again? Could he forgive himself for taking on yet more blame? His heart spasmed and he wasn't that surprised when another body barreled into the fresher. 

"Obi-Wan," Anakin's childish voice filled his mind. "I'm sorry!"

What? He blinked hard as he pulled away from Quin so he could glance down at his new padawan. Why was he apologizing? He untangled himself from his partner and knelt down and before he could even complete the action Anakin was clinging to him.

"No, Ani, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you waiting-" Tiny arms tightened painfully around his neck and he winced ever so slightly. "How would you like to go get a treat? Quin will come with us. Just us...three." 

Qui-Gon would never step through the door at Dex's again, but Obi-Wan could at least honor his memory there. He glanced up at Quin and felt his cheeks flush faintly. The look of affection and sadness struck him straight in his heart. He smiled ever so faintly and mouthed a simple sentiment.

Forgive me. I love you.

[sabineelectricheart]

Counting Fingers

Summary: Dimitri cannot fathom how the tiny fingers of his son’s will ever be able to hold a sword, so he swears himself a vow. One he keeps over the years.

Rating: K - Intended for general audience 5 years and older. Content should be free of any coarse language, violence, and adult themes.

Words: 2500

Notes: I am obsessed with Three Houses. I mean, I am an obsessive person, so nothing new there, but still, if I keep up like that, I’ll be booted from college.

As the sun breaks the dark skies of a harsh winter night, Dimitri could not quite believe how small the fingers and toes of new-born babies actually were.

Ten little fingers. Ten tiny toes.

He looks at his own hands, large and calloused from the years of training, hunting and war. He has trouble believing that his hand has ever been so small, he could not fathom how such fragile limbs would ever be able to hold onto swords and lances.

The king of Faerghus has become also a father, and such a title was bringing such anxiety he had not remember feeling for many moons. He had no-one to confide or help him dealing with such strange territory, as both him and his wife were orphans, his friends are yet to take the plunge towards family life and the nobility was strife with tales of terrible parenting with horrible consequences.

He would pace around the room to try to relieve his mind of such a burdensome fixation, but it has been a long night and he could not support the weight of his own large body. Besides, he had done it for hours to no avail.

It was while the blond man stared emptily at the warm crib in front of him that something magical came to pass. The tiny green-haired, blue-eyed baby stared dead ahead into his father’s eyes and reached to him. As a whole hand of tiny fingers wrapped around one of hiss, Dimitri made a silent vow.

This vow he made as he glanced between his new-born son and his wife, sleeping peacefully after an intense delivery. This vow he made to remind himself of the importance of family.

The ten fingers and ten toes of his new-born son would never once experience the level of pain he had. His son would never go through the emotional torment of never knowing his parents. His son would never experience true loneliness.

While this boy cannot hold a sword in his feeble hands, be a day or the rest of eternity, his father will raise his own on his defence, and so the Goddess smite him if he ever goes back on his word.

Dimitri made the vow in utter silence, sealing it with a kiss to his son’s head. As if in response to the promise made, his son squeezes his father’s finger, gripping it with all the strength in one of his tiny hands.

Ten fingers, ten toes. All perfect, and all there.

*_*_*_*_*

It is a huff and a cry that follows that has Dimitri rushing from the stables into the large courtyard that separates the horses from the main halls of their home, which had a large tree where the children of the estate usually learn climbing, himself included when he was that age.

Despite knowing full well that such happenings were the facts of life and that it does not hurt that much to fall from one of those branches, the monarch’s heart stops at the sight of his son sprawled on the floor, fat tears running down his face more from shock than pain.

Those tragedies must only happen in Spring, when the Goddess cannot protect the lands of Fódlan, the blond is sure. He brushes his son down, checking for any major injuries as he does so.

The fatherly heart returns to a normal beating rhythm once he realises that Lambert is entirely uninjured, suffering shock more than anything.

“How many fingers, Lambert?” Dimitri asks, reaching out brush the tears away from his son’s chubby face.

“Ten.” The boy responded on a hiccup.

“How many toes?” The man asks once more.

“Ten.” Came the predicted response, now without being broken in the middle with the throat spasm.

Dimitri kisses his son’s verdant hair. “Ten fingers and ten toes. It all seems in perfect order to me. Do you feel any better?”

Lambert nods, wiping away the last of his tears and smiling shakily up at his father. Dimitri smiles back at his son, lifting him under the arms and settling him on his hip.

“I think we have had enough of the outside for now. We ought to catch something on this wind.” Dimitri comments softly. “Will you help me prepare the tea, Lambert? Your mother must be arriving soon, and I am sure she would appreciate having a hot beverage and a pastry to chase away the cold.”

It was difficult to raise a child when the love of his life spent six moons with them, three in Fhirdiad and three in Garreg Mach, and six moons away, caring for the Church and souls of their realm. However, Dimitri knows he prefers six moons to no moon at all, and the Archbishop had plenty of admirers who would be more than happy to have any moon they could get.

Lambert nods once more, tucking his small head into the crook of his father’s neck. The man chuckles softly, heading back inside and sneaking through the large corridors onwards to the Royal Apartments, where he settles his son on a chair by the table.

“What should we brew, Lambert?” The blond asks. “Chamomile or apple and cinnamon?”

“Chamomile!” His son shouts, a smile on his face as Dimitri prepares the flowers, boils the water and sets up the fancy porcelain cups in their due places.

When the Archbishop finally arrives from the long trip from the centre of the realm, pressing a lingering kiss to Dimitri’s cheek before dropping a kiss to Lambert’ head, the father was explaining to the child how good tea and good company fostered lasting relations.

“What’s happening here?” The religious woman asks, good-humoured.

“We’re having a tea party, Mama!”

She laughs. “I can see that. What are we having?”

“Chamomile tea and honey pastries.” Dimitri states.

“Naturally.” She counters, while picking up their son and setting him back on her lap, as she helps him with his cup and cutlery.

Dimitri watches you with a warm smile, thinking back to his younger years. He thinks back to the dark years when he did not know whether he would make it through the winter, never mind make it to having a family. To the times he was lost to his own nefarious thoughts.

The rich laughter of his son brings the king back from his memories, fetches him back from the precipice in which he found himself teetering. He lets himself have his small panic and he lets himself fall prey to the anxiety that has unfurled in his gut, but he only lets it keep hold of him for the amount of time it takes him to count the fingers and toes on his son.

Ten fingers, ten toes. Dimitri’s mind calms and his smile returns to his face.

Ten fingers, ten toes. All will be well.

*_*_*_*_*

Dimitri lurches upright. A hand is brought to his throat as he drags in air; his mind rattled and his body shaking.

It had felt so real. It had been real. He had experienced such nightmares before, during the five years that the Crest of Flames had been missing and presumed dead, but now, knowing he had much more to lose, it felt even more terrifying.

He glances over to the empty right side of his marital bed. The Wyvern Moon was high in the sky and the king had been forced to return to Fhirdiad, as to oversee the harvests and preparations for the harsh wintertime to come.

Alas, if reality does not provide, the man’s memories are ready to jump into action. If his wife were here with him, he would see a hand outstretched towards him even in sleep. His eyes run over the imaginary figure; watching it sleeping form rise and fall as breath leaves its metaphysical body.

Dimitri sighs, feeling the loneliness grip into his battered heart. The silver wedding encrusted band on his left hand signally a happy future from the nightmare he had found himself in, regardless of the hurdles that practical reality imposes upon the man.

The monarch presses a kiss to the most precious piece of jewellery in his possession, brushing the thick covers from his body before leaving the too large of a bed.

He shives against the cold air of the autumnal night; the landing freezing as Dimitri sits at the doorstep of his chambers, hanging his head in his hands.

When his former professor returned from her long slumber, she might have managed to silence the voices on his head, but they did not go away, merely transformed what once was a shout into a thin whisper. Yet, even that is hard to ignore on the long months he is alone.

As a result, Dimitri spends most nights having to repress the urge to stand guard by the front door, lance at the ready for whomever should come crashing through posing a threat to his wife and his son.

Lambert stands by his own nursery door; his stuffed animal hanging from his still too weak of a hand as Dimitri tries to settle his breathing and heartbeat.

“Daddy?” He asks, voice quiet yet ringing through the silent house.

“Lambert.” Dimitri says, a hand reaching for his son.

Lambert goes into his arms willingly, yawning tiredly as he settles his head against his father’s shoulder. Lambert does not say a lot, even this young he knows that his father struggles to sleep on some nights. The boy forgot how many times he had found the man asleep on some odd surface throughout the castle, as it happens more often than not. Fortunately for his father, a blanket is often thrown haphazardly over his body by one of the early-rising maids or guards.

“How many fingers?” Lambert asks, stumbling over the harder sounds in the words.

Dimitri swivels to face his son; the question being the last thing he expected. “Ten, Lambert.”

“How many toes?” Lambert follows, kicking his feet in the air for emphasis.

The weight on Dimitri’s chest feels lighter as he answers his son, “Ten, Lambert.”

Ten fingers, ten toes, Lambert reminds Dimitri, ten fingers, ten toes, and all will be well. As long as we have all ten fingers and all ten toes, we can do just about anything, even if it is defeating the terrors that haunt us at night.

*_*_*_*_*

The very same vow is made when Princess Arabella of Blayyid makes her grand entrance into the world on a sunny Lone Moon morning. Dimitri felt sure that he had the same awe-filled expression on his face from when he first held Lambert.

On the barren lands of Faerghus, every child is a blessing, but he is sure that his court celebrates more his daughter than they did his son. Her arrival, while hardly a surprise, given how hard and tirelessly they worked to conceive her, had been challenging, as it would appear that divine figures had difficulties in producing scions, and the distance was hardly any help.

The nerves do not rack Dimitri as much as they did before Lambert arrived, though, even if they still turn his stomach as he watches his beloved wife go through the same unpleasant experiences of motherhood, with cravings, pains and the horrible delivery.

The sacrifices would be worth it, they were sure. After the rough patch of pregnancy, parenthood would be a breeze. Or so they thought when they looked to Lambert as an example, proving that, so far, neither of them had failed that disastrously at parenting. The small boy turning into young child that knew his manners and was devoted to his family and nation.

It is Lambert who whispers the vow. He stands over the crib of his baby sister, eyes wide in awe at the small bundle of blankets. He turns to his father; catching his attention from whatever conversation he was having with you.

“Ten fingers and ten toes.” Lambert whispers, pointing to Arabella’s hands and feet.

“Ten fingers and ten toes.” Dimitri states, the vow unleashed to the world and sealed with the very same kiss he had placed upon Lambert’s head all those years ago.

*_*_*_*_*

It finally arrived. The Great Tree Moon was finally rising on the night sky, and with it came the much awaited day for all noble parents in the realm, and the monarchs were no exception.

Today was the day when a member of the Blaiddyd dynasty would be making their way towards the officers’ academy in Garreg Mach. The large and rather comfortable coach in front of the Royal Family was already completely loaded and ready for departure.

Lambert looks towards the carriage before fixing his tear-filled gaze on his father, who is barely keeping it together himself. The teen boy was the first of his three children to be going away to school. He knew he would be emotional, but he just did not prepare himself for the pit of dread eating its way through his stomach lining.

Dimitri reaches out to ruffle his son’s hair. His first born, his eldest, the one who made him a father, who had moulded him into the man he is today. The heir to the throne.

“Write to your mother and I when you get settled.” The man commanded.

Lambert nods.

“As soon as I get to my room.” He replies, voice quiet.

“Try to enjoy yourself, and do not be too concerned with being class leader on your first year.” The Archbishop advises. “Remember, there is time to sow and time to harvest, time for fun and time for seriousness, and both of us will be there with you when the Blue Sea Moon come.”

A weight is lifted off of Lambert’s heart. He does not want to admit it, but he is scared, he is feeling the weight of Fódlan on his young shoulders. He is more than happy to be able to count on his mother’s wise advice while in school, and the breathing space his father was letting him have.

Dimitri pulls Lambert into a hug; unable to let his son go without one more. As they part, Dimitri pats Lambert on the shoulder, nodding towards the open carriage door, silently letting him know that it is okay now. It is okay to let go and leave their home.

Lambert does so with a wobbling lip, trying his best to project strength to the person he most admires in the world.

“Fingers and toes.” Dimitri shouts, not caring about the odd looks from the servants and knights assembled in the hall. These were his final verbal words to his son until the Rite of Rebirth. He would make sure they were those that he vowed over his cradle when he was only a few hours old.

Lambert sticks his head out of the carriage window.

“Fingers and toes!” He cries, throwing the promise back to his loving father.

The boy would return safe and sound. All ten fingers and all ten toes.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

[hellotweetygirl]

Ok y’all, I’m about to get painfully personal and vulnerable here about some chronic health issues. Feel free to scroll past, I know this is pretty much a fandom blog but I need answers and since I quipped on FB the other day that I ‘could crowdsource a diagnosis faster than my doctor could order another diagnostic test’ I’m putting it all out here to get the opinions of my fellow spoonies/disability friends in the hopes of someone knowing what the heck my body is doing. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Thanks. 😊

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At the beginning of July I had one afternoon of sharp pain on the left side of my back and mild cramping/spasming in that spot. For me it was an ‘oh no’ moment bracing for another round of kidney stones. I have been having pain in my lower back on and off for the last couple of years combined with some of the other topical symptoms (I learned) that accompany kidney stones but I was never really presented with a full episode until last summer when a full on episode of extreme back spasms (on my left side) sent me to the ER in the middle of the night with more pain than I’ve ever been in my life. That’s when I was officially diagnosed with kidney stones and anyone who has had them before knows that the pain is very distinct and unforgettable. However, this episode of back pain at the beginning of July initially never developed into anything more than one afternoon with a heating pack slapped my back. About two weeks later though I ended up on the couch all weekend with spasms all through my lower back and I figured that darn stone was on the move and heading for my bladder. Fast forward six weeks up to today and I have been consistently having lower back pain and a sharp poking in my bladder this entire time along with massive exhaustion and feeling completely drained. I could never determine that the stone had passed. 

At about four weeks into this fun little experience I saw my PCP for my yearly physical and brought it up to him. He was very surprised that I had never actually seen urology in person in the year that they had officially “been treating me“ so he recommended that I get an in person appointment to be seen and discuss reoccurring stones (this round would be my third).

When I called urology they refused to see me. Told me to go to the ER if I was in pain. I ranted at them that I wasn’t in that kind of pain that warranted an ER and asked that they order testing. I knew that my insurance wouldn’t approve the testing without an in office visit and I hope to force their hand and make them see me – but again after the claim was denied I was recommended to go to the ER. 😠

About 10 days ago and I called the urology office again and was able to convince them to give me an appointment – that afternoon!! 🙌🏻 The registered nurse that I saw in the office was pretty aggressive and so I was aggressive back and insisting and questioning what was going on why I had been in pain so long and if it turned out to not be a kidney stone (testing couldn’t prove my second episode 🙄) what else could it be and how could we treat it? She insisted that she couldn’t decide anything until we had done testing and taking a look at the results. I went for testing last week x-ray, and ultrasound on my kidney and bladder. Test results came back the next day. I could see them on my online chart and knew we were not going to get anywhere again. I had to call them the second day after the testing was back and ask if they could let me know what the testing said and what the recommendations were- on the voicemail. When they called me back I got all the information that I already know to be true from past x-rays/CT/ultrasounds- there are kidney stones sitting in my right kidney but they haven’t moved or changed in the last five years. I do have a gallstone in my gallbladder but it has not moved or changed in the last five years. And I do have a rather large uterine fibroid pressing on my bladder, but again that is not changed in the last 2 to 3 years at least.

So here’s the thing. What the heck is causing all this back pain that I’ve been experiencing?? When I saw urology they put me on Flomax to move the stone out if I’d had one and I’ve had a torturous week of heavy cramping and pain throughout my lower abdomin and lower back. I’m off of the Flomax now since they’re obviously isn’t a stone to push out and slowly the cramping pain is receding but everything inside hurts and is very tender and sensitive right now. And my lower back pain is continuing. It can be ok or be really bad in the morning and it’s bad in the evening but it can get better during the day for the most part. I have been using a rice heating pack almost constantly just to try to relax the muscles and bring some pain relief and it does work well but it doesn’t deal with the issue fully, obviously – and I’d really like to get to the root of this. August has been an absolutely exhausting month for me because on top of the kidney stone/not kidney stone merry go round I’ve been dealing with almost constant sick migraines for three weeks. I’m exhausted and I need answers and I don’t even know where to push the doctors buttons to get them to pay attention to it and help me to diagnose it so that we can treat it and I can regain some normalcy here.

To give a short medical history here my chronic illnesses include JRA, PCOS, fibromyalgia, IBS, and migraines. I know that any one of these could be creating different or new issues for me now that I haven’t had in the past- or they could be the start of something completely new. Please feel free to add comments to this post or message me privately if you have any suggestions on what to look at or what to look into before I take another whack at these doctors. I know this got longer more detail than I intended it to but I appreciate your patience and listening. Thanks in advance! 😊

[scripttorture]

Hey, I am writing a torture scene in a Star Wars fanfiction, where a character is tortured both with interrogation devices and with the Force. How do I make the use of the Force in torture seem as awful and realistic as the interrogation devices? Sorry if that is confusing, I've never written a torture scene in fic before and I am nervous about doing this one right.

Welcome. :) It’s a perfectly understandable fear, let’s get stuck in.

 There are some issues around some of the canon torture devices in Star Wars. The short version of which is that high tech equipment isn’t realistic in torture and it can often suggest torture is ‘advanced’ or ‘intelligent’ when it is not. But this isn’t really the core of your question and I don’t want to discourage you on your first try.

 For more realistic low-tech alternatives I have a post on common torture techniques in the modern era over here. You can read a little more about why I think ‘interrogation devices’ are leaning in to torture apologia by looking through the ‘high tech torture’ tag.

 You can read a bit more about it in this Star Wars review here or by looking through this tag.

 Central to this is how you communicate pain in a story. Because that’s really what we’re talking about here. How do you capture a type of pain that your reader hasn’t experienced?

 It might be helpful to know that pain isn’t one sensation. We actually process different kinds of pain differently and we each have different thresholds for different sorts of pain.

 That might sound complicated but what it boils down to is that knowing someone likes their curry hot doesn’t tell you how they’d deal with a head ache or a twisted ankle.

 So if I was approaching this my first question would be: what kind of pain do I want to make the Force feel like?

 There are a couple of little bits from various parts of the franchise that suggest the dark side feels ‘cold’. But I think you do have leeway to really decide what you want this to be like.

 I would lean in to the way the Force can cause pain without leaving obvious wounds. Because a lot of torture, both historically and today, does the same thing and these ‘clean’ (non-scarring) tortures are often dismissed. The damage they cause is downplayed, the pain they cause is underestimated. And unfortunately survivors of clean tortures (the majority of torture survivors today) are dismissed because we expect torture to leave scars.

 Our vision is a big part of how we judge other people’s pain. We find it very easy to instinctually imagine (and sympathise) with injuries we can clearly see. Things like broken bones, burns and cuts seem to be easier for us to understand. I’d use that, in the same way I would if I was writing a non-magical clean torture scenario.

 I’m going to describe the reported sensations/type of pain caused by three different clean tortures; stress positions, pumping and electrical torture using a magneto. (You can look up any of those in the tags for more information.) Feel free to use any of these.

 Stress positions cause muscular pain throughout the body. Think of the sharp pain the comes with pulled muscles and imagine that throughout the body. That tension, the feeling that the limbs are giving way, everywhere. A building muscular pain punctuated by sharp bursts. It’s trembling afterwards, weakness, staggering, falling. A burning, pins and needles sensation as circulation returns to raised limbs.

 By contrast pumping is internal, organ pain. It’s a stomach ache that’s like being stamped on. A stabbing pain that doesn’t end. If you’ve had a bad E coli infection then think of that. Nausea, the awful empty feeling afterwards. Switching from one type of pain to another until it starts all over again. The way your head reels and your awareness narrows.

 As for electrical torture, well here’s Alleg’s description of his experience with the French military in Algeria (I have edited to focus on his description of physical sensation).

 ‘Suddenly, I leapt in my bonds and shouted with all my might. Cha- had just sent a first electric charge through my body. A flash of lightning exploded next to my ear and I felt my heart racing in my breast. I struggled, screaming and stiffened myself until the straps cut into my flesh. All the while the shocks controlled by Cha-, magneto in hand, followed each other without cease.[…]

 ‘Suddenly I felt as if a savage beast had torn the flesh from my body. Still smiling above me Ja- had attached the pincer to my penis. The shocks going through me were so strong that the straps holding me to the board came loose. They stopped to tie them again and we continued.

‘After a while the lieutenant took the place of Ja-. He had removed the wire from one of the pincers and fastened it down along the entire width of my chest. The whole of my body was shaking with nervous shocks getting ever stronger in intensity, and the session went on interminably. They had thrown cold water over me in order to increase the intensity of the current and between every two spasms I trembled with cold. All around me sitting on the packing cases, Cha- and his friends emptied bottles of beer. I chewed on my gag to relieve the cramp which contorted my body. In vain’

 Obviously you don’t have to use any of these examples if you don’t like the sound of them. The basic idea is to think about a type of pain and use that to create an evocative description.

 You could even use your own experience if you wanted to. Think about the kinds of pain you’ve had in the past, migraines or pulled muscles or eating a curry that was too hot, and use that as a basis for magnifying the same sensation.

 That’s all Step One.

 Capturing the full impact of torture means more then the torture scene. It means warping the story under the weight of abuse. It’s the lasting effects on the survivor and the knock on impact on their friends and family. It’s the way that impact can radicalise people, even witnesses. It’s the effect torture has on the organisations that use it and those that it is used against.

 A story does not necessarily need to give all of these elements a lot of narrative space.

 If your story doesn’t focus on the survivor then their symptoms might just take up a sentence as the main characters ask whether they ‘made it’. And in that case you hammer home the impact by showing the effect on these people who are at a remove. Their fear, their anger, their resolve to stop this. Perhaps even a few lasting symptoms they develop as witnesses to a traumatic event.

 The original Star Wars movies don’t leave a lot of time to focus on lasting effects on the main characters but they still show each of them resisting torture in different ways. They show torture radicalising characters who witness it. They show it galvanising opposition and they show torture as ultimately undermining the organisation that uses it.

 Essentially think about the sort of story you’re telling and how much space each of these elements needs in your story.

 Most of the writers who come here are focused on a survivor character and want to write that character recovering. So I’m going to talk about that in more depth.

 If however you’d rather talk about systems in your story I do have some masterposts that’ll help. There’s one here on the common justifications for torture in democracies. There’s one on why torture doesn’t work as a method of interrogation here and a more detailed discussion of the effect torture has on investigations here. There’s also a post on common misconceptions over here.

 I also think you should read the post on clean torture.

 So, let’s talk about how torture effects people.

 Torture does cause lasting symptoms in survivors, witnesses and torturers. Survivors are left dealing with symptoms for the rest of their lives. But that doesn’t mean they never recover and it doesn’t mean survivors don’t go on to have fulfilling lives.

 Recovery is about learning to live with symptoms rather then mental health problems vanishing.

 Now we know the possible symptoms of torture. But survivors don’t generally experience all the possible symptoms and we don’t really understand why there’s so much variety in what individual survivors experience. We also, generally speaking, can’t predict which symptoms any individual will get*.

 From a writing stand point that means we’re free to decide what fits best in any story. I’d encourage you to pick 3-5 symptoms from the list here for any survivors characters. There’s a more detailed discussion of memory problems in particular here. Memory problems are extremely common in reality and very rarely portrayed accurately/well in fiction.

 Personally I think the best way to pick is by looking at the list and thinking about which symptoms will add to the story you’re trying to tell. Think about what might add interesting obstacles in the plot, what might create opportunities to show your audience more about the character and what might change the relationships characters have.

 So if your character needs to be charismatic and social does giving them anxiety create an interesting barrier to that? If your character is determined or holds their ideals really high, does giving them depression help illustrate those qualities by showing what the character is battling with every day? Would intrusive memories prompt deeper discussions with their friends about mental health, their fears?

 Wrapping up I would really encourage you to look at that masterpost on the common misconceptions about torture. Because so many of the ways we’re used to seeing torture portrayed are tropes that have no basis in reality. And a lot of them are based on really harmful misconceptions about torture and torture survivors.

 This probably feels like a lot. It is. Torture is a complex topic to tackle and the sheer volume of misinformation out there makes it that much harder to do it right.

 Read the links. Think about what you want to write. Practice.

 And if you have any more questions feel free to send them in when the ask box re-opens. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*There are a handful of exceptions here but for the most part whatever the torture technique the possible long term symptoms are the same. Exceptions include sleep deprivation, starvation and solitary confinement.

[miss-tc-nova]

No Right - Xehanort x Eraqus

I’m still kind of testing out this writing style if you haven’t noticed. I think I’m gonna stick to 1st POV for self-inserts and do this 3rd POV for canon characters. It’s been testing my skills so far but I kinda like it. 

TRIGGER WARNING: for suicide attempt

~~~~~

                “See you soon buddy. We’ll all be waiting for you.”

                The curious words replay in Xehanort’s head as he takes the first steps of his new journey. Surely Eraqus doesn’t know what awaits the seeker in the future—he can’t know the path that’s been laid before his friend. Yet his final goodbye holds an ominous knowing that Xehanort can’t seem to shake.

                It’s been a while since their friends met such terrible fates and were taken away. Despite Eraqus’s insistence, Xehanort harbors feelings of responsibility for what happened. They’ve hardly spent a moment apart after that as a result, having only each other to rely on. There’s no doubt that the two are close—sometimes, it’s unclear how close. There’s no denying the airy feeling Xehanort feels seeing Fleetfoot smile, even while napping. Just being in close proximity gives the silver-haired boy a sense of peace he can’t recreate alone. Simply put, everything is better with Eraqus around. That makes reminding himself that their paths will soon lead in very different directions a bitter notion.

                Ever since Xehanort announced his journey before the Mark of Mastery, Eraqus hasn’t quite been his sunshine self. He’s still trying be who he was, but the gloom can be felt seeping off him when he thinks his classmate isn’t looking. He’s probably just worried about his friend, but there’s so much he doesn’t know—this is something Xehanort has to do.

                Nevertheless, attempts were made to poke holes in Xehanort’s plans.

                “You don’t have to leave.”

                “You’ve already seen what’s out there.”

                “What are you looking for?”

                False answers were given to Eraqus while the boy kept the real answers for himself. Still, the way his classmate spoke and his final warning continue nagging at the back of his mind.  

                You’ll be waiting for me? With who? Master Odin? No…

                The scene plays again. They stand before the graves of their friends. Eraqus shows no sign of his bright self, no light in his eyes, and the smile on his lips is dead. It’s a dreary thing—parting with friends.

                “See you soon buddy. We’ll all be waiting for you.” There it is: at that moment, Eraqus had turned his gaze on the tombstones.

                Understanding shakes his core. Not another thought is wasted before Xehanort’s feet rush him back towards the cemetery. Droplets impede his vision but do nothing to persuade him to slow down; there can be no hesitation—not for a single second.

                No no no! Don’t be that kind of fool!

                The freezing air fueling his flight stings at his lungs. Panic tightens its grip in his throat, threatening to close off his airways. If Eraqus is gone, well, Xehanort doesn’t want to think what kind of person he’ll turn into.

                In a blinding flash, lightning strikes a lamppost barely meters ahead, halting the mad dash. Not wanting to waste time, Xehanort ignores the freak incident and prepares to bolt again. Then something catches his eye. There’s no saying for sure, but the rain falls so perfectly it looks like a group of people standing before him—some very familiar people.

                Why are you in the way?!

                Movement off to the side earns a quick glance and then a double-take. Ambling along the road to the docks is Eraqus, and the large stone in his arms does not bode well. A concoction of hope and terror spur Xehanort off his original path.

                The gap between them is closing but the boy with black hair gets ever close to the edge. Xehanort’s lungs are screaming to stop but Eraqus is just one step away from the water—there’s still too much space between them.

                “ERAQUS!” The anchor hits the water at the same time the name rings out. Granite eyes flash to Xehanort filled with horror. Fingers snag the hem of Eraqus’s sleeve but the boy in black isn’t prepared for the weight of the rock at all. A face full of icy water takes him by surprise, nearly causing his grip to falter; only sheer refusal lets him hang on.

                The pair falls through the sea like the sky—the waters of Scala are deeper than anyone imagined. It’s a fathomless depth; they could be sinking for eternity. An entire world’s weight presses on Xehanort’s chest, coaxing his lungs to spasm. Common sense fights the urge while the boy in white watches with pleading terror.

                Natural instincts gets the better of Xehanort and the ocean invades his body—ending the struggle to save the person most important to him. White fabric slips from his hand and he can only watch Eraqus slip farther away while his body writhes for air. Dark water grows darker, thrashing becomes too much effort, and Xehanort slips away in regret.

~~~~~

                It’s bad enough that Eraqus had been found out, but when he ends up dragging Xehanort into the water with him, he’s mortified. With all his heart, he prays for his friend to let go but, with a look of absolute determination, Xehanort holds on.

                There is no relief when Xehanort finally does lose his grip: he’s clearly drowning. Getting to the surface on his own will be impossible—he’s going to die and it’s Eraqus’s fault. Those are unbearable final thoughts.

                One swipe of the keyblade severs the rope pulling Eraqus down and an aero spell propels him higher towards the motionless body. His own lungs are crying out for air but he’ll be useless if he blacks out now. Clinging tightly to the boy, Eraqus uses every ounce of energy he has to fight for the surface.

                Air fills his lungs, signaling the half-won battle. He struggles not to panic while dragging both himself and the unresponsive Xehanort from the water.

                “Xehanort! Hey, say something!” he demands, shaking the victim. “Wake up! WAKE UP!”

                Nothing. Ignoring the fear that will only get in the way, Eraqus presses down on his chest. His own breath comes in drags, but for Xehanort, he ensures his chest rises.

                No! Not you too! We lost everyone else! Please not you too!

                Pretty soon, Eraqus has to rely on touch alone to continue, blinded by his tears.

~~~~~

                Against his will, his body convulses. Water forces its way up, spilling across the ground and leaving Xehanort hacking through the pain.

                “Oh my gods! You’re okay!” The gray sky above greets him just beyond Eraqus’s shoulder—they’re still here. There’s really no chance to process the fact though before the rescuer pulls away, glaring. “What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve died!” The anger doesn’t faze Xehanort, only reaffirms the things he’d been trying to put aside for so-called destiny. “You were this close to-”

                “I love you.”

                Those three words wipe the frustration clean. “What?”

                Pushing off the ground, Xehanort sits up, his tears warmer than the rain. “I love you, you clown.” A fist wipes at his tears in an attempt keep together. “And you were just gonna disappear while I was gone? I was supposed to come back and find out you drowned yourself right after I left?” Behind his drenched hair, the guilty hides. “So instead of asking what the hell I was thinking, how about you ask yourself that?”

                The response is pitiful stuttering. “I-I-”

                “You what?” Xehanort knows what. “Think you’re not worth it? Think that nobody will miss you? What gives you the right to decide that for someone else?” The seeker reaches out, using a firm grip to force Eraqus to meet his gaze. There’s hardly a thing he wouldn’t give to wipe the grief and regret from those gray eyes, but for now, Xehanort means to get his point across. “You don’t get to decide what you mean to me.”

                The cold, the rain, the uncomfortable feeling of being soaked, none of it matters the moment Xehanort drops his mouth onto Eraqus’s. Sure, he’s always been eloquent in his words, but in this moment, nothing he could say could better express the things he wanted Eraqus to know. Everything is poured into this connection, from his love to the fear he’d just experienced—all of it needs to show.

                While drowning in affection is certainly better than drowning in water, Xehanort breaks the kiss. Puffs of hot air float away while they attempt to recover. The boy in black is first, leaning back and shoving the hair from the face of his beloved. His adrenaline is gone, now replaced with the relief of various things. Wearily, he smiles at the somber boy. “How dare you try to take that away from me.”

                Eraqus’s lips twist and tears well in his eyes—that’s all the apology Xehanort needs. Prepared to wait out the sobbing, he pulls his mess of a loved one in and holds him tightly.

                In the white noise of the rain, with intermittent sniffles from the boy in his arms, Xehanort re-evaluates all his choices. Maybe the worlds need him to leave—to summon Kingdom Hearts and break everything down to nothing—but Eraqus needs him here. He could logic with himself all day that destiny and the fate of all the worlds meant more than the relationship of two teenage boys, but it’ll be a long time before Xehanort forgets the sight of Eraqus sinking into the watery darkness. Just thinking about it makes it all so very clear: Xehanort would forsake everything if it meant he got to keep Eraqus in his life.

                The man in the black coat can find another scapegoat. 

[screechingsweetsstudent]

by Colt 45

To say my husband is not jealous of me is an understatement. After eight years of marriage, we had grown very used to each other, and our sex life became mundane. One night he decided that we needed to put some zing back into sex and we started playing with various ideas. One of those ideas was bondage. I would put up a fight, and we would see if he could subdue and tie me to our king size bed. It took him about twenty minutes to win, and I felt myself hornier than I had been in some years. After tying my hands to the head board, he pulled my tube top down so my tits were exposed and then undid my cutoff's and pulled them, along with my panties off. Then he spread-eagled me and tied my feet to the foot board. All that was left was for him to blindfold me, which he did rather quickly. I pretended that I was being raped, and I begged him to let me go.

All of this made him more excited than I could remember seeing him in quite some time. He straddled my face and ordered me to suck his cock, which, because it was so huge, seemed to be a different one. I sucked it into my horny mouth and then into my throat as he pushed it farther in. Finally, the entire length, about nine inches, was buried to the hilt and his balls rested on my chin. I continued to suck and lick his beautiful cock, and even came just from it being in my throat. I felt like a slut, and I loved it.

Soon after my own orgasm, he began to fuck my mouth, and before too long, he was shooting a load down my throat. After he came, he pulled out, still hard, and went to work on my pussy. He began by licking and sucking my inner thighs just inches away from my hot cunt. I was going nuts as he would lightly brush my clit, going from leg to leg. He kept getting closer and closer to my leaky cunt, and finally he took my clit between his lips and sucked and bit at it. I came again as he drove three fingers into me. Then he stopped and kissed his way up my belly, and then to my nipples which were fully erect. He licked and sucked and nibbled at them, until I again felt the heat rising in my pussy. He then moved to my neck and started kissing it. Then I felt his cock begin to rub up against my cunt. He started sliding it in and he filled me completely. I think I began to cum almost immediately, and kept on cumming 'til he finally blasted his second load into me.

Then he rolled off of me and left me tied up there on the bed. After a while, he got up and closed the door as he left the room. I heard movement out in the living room, and about thirty minutes later, the door opened again. He got on the bed and started to eat me again. Lying there in anticipation of what was going to happen next, had it's effects on me and I was horny, thinking about what his next move would be. He again moved up my body and straddled my head once more. He rubbed his cock all around my face and finally, he parted my lips with it. I sucked it in and as he sunk it into my throat, I realized that it was even bigger than before. He continued to slide it in, and I realized that this time it had grown at least two inches longer. Then I just barely perceived more movement on the bed, and felt a cock press against my cunt. I tried to move my head so that the cock in my throat was removed, but it was too large and stayed lodged there. I tried to speak, but that's impossible with almost twelve inches of spasming cock in your throat. The other cock filled me and stretched my pussy out, and it seemed like it would never stop pushing more and more into my pussy.

I could only lay there and take whatever was going to happen. What I do know is that my body reacted much differently than my mind wanted it to. I was becoming hotter and hotter as these two cocks ravaged me. The excitement was greater than I had ever felt and I was soon cumming. As I moaned around the cock in my throat, I felt it grow rock hard, and as he fucked my mouth, I could feel his dick begin to spasm, knowing that I would soon find my mouth filled with sperm. He came what felt like a bucket load, and I struggled to swallow it all down. Then the other cock started to really fuck my pussy hard and soon, that cavity was filled to overflowing. He came so much and so hard that his cum shot out of my cunt as he fucked me.

Then, my husband pulled off the blindfold and I could see that I had just been taken by two black men. They untied me and told me they were far from finished with me. I went to the bathroom and came back out, ready for more action. This was my first time in having two cocks at once, and I was soon to be introduced to being fucked by all three men. I climbed on top of one of the black men, and slid down on his black fuck pole. The other one knelt to the side and had me suck him. Then my husband got in behind me and I felt him rub my asshole. Then I felt his cock press into me, and I told him NO! but he was determined to fuck my asshole and he continued to push it in. After the initial pain wore off, I found myself becoming very hot again. The black man I was fucking pulled my hips down until my cunt engulfed his entire length. His cock was going deeper than I had ever experienced, and he stretched me out.

Meanwhile, my husband had all nine inches of his meat buried up my ass, and my throat was filled with the other cock. Soon, my husband shot his cum deep into my ass, and the black in my pussy followed suit shortly after. The one in mouth pulled out as he came, spraying my face and hair with a gigantic load of sperm. They continued this all night long, even after I passed out from exhaustion. When I awoke the next morning, the other two were gone, and my husband had his cock in my pussy from behind. After he came, we showered and ate breakfast.

That night was just a fore runner of the things to come. Another week, he had me dress like a slut and we went out to a bar. I proceeded to get very drunk and soon, men were all over me. They had my tits out and my skirt pulled up to expose my pussy. They all took turns at feeling me up and soon one of them pulled out his cock and had me blow him right there in the bar. As I sucked this new cock, I felt myself being moved around to a lying position, and then another cock began to enter my cunt from behind. All in all, about 18 men fucked me that night right there in the bar. As we drove home, I lowered my head to my husband's cock and gave him the best blow job he ever had. The next day, after he went to work, there was a knock on the door. I answered it, and a very handsome man stood there. I asked if I could help him, and he replied that I sure could. I could give him some more of what he had the night before. Then it hit me that he was one of the men who had ravaged my pussy.

He came in, and I felt very awkward, being there alone with him. He took me in his strong arms and kissed me, causing me to start to get horny. This was different than any other time as my husband wasn't there. I told him that, and it didn't matter, he was going to have me again. He told me to lead the way to our bedroom and followed me there. He pushed me down on the bed, and I knew that whatever I did to try to resist was going to be fruitless. My only hesitation was that in my mind, I felt I was betraying my husband by allowing another man to fuck me while he wasn't there.

My body on the other hand, opened up easily to him. He stripped me and started to lick at my tits, and feel my pussy which was already soaked. Then he kissed me and my hand sought out his dick. It was about twelve inches in length and bigger around than my forearm was. He slid in two, then three fingers up my cunt, and began to move them around and in and out. Then he added a fourth, and I began to feel really weak. I continued to squeeze and stroke the large cock in my hand and it began to leak out pre-cum. Then I moved down to suck it and he moved under me so that we were sixty-nining. He continued to fuck me with his hand and suck at my clit. I rode his face, grinding my cunt harder and harder against his mouth.

Meanwhile, I had taken most of his cock into my mouth and down my throat. He thrust up into my cock hungry mouth, driving it deeper into my throat. As he thrust up, I pushed back down with my mouth. I watched as his balls began to tighten, and knew that he would soon be sending a load down my throat. This made me ready to cum, and we both climaxed at the same time. His cock maintained it's hardness and he moved around and slid it into my waiting, swollen cunt. He slid in inch after inch, and I wondered if he would ever get the entire length of it into me. Finally, his balls slapped at my ass, and his groin rubbed at my clit. Then he pulled it back out slowly, and slammed it back into me. My cunt gripped his rigid pole as he pulled out, making it very tight. Hell, with his size, any pussy would be tight. We fucked for at least two hours before he shot another load up my cunt. After that, we talked. He was married, but his wife wouldn't let him fuck her too often. She was afraid her pussy would get stretched out too big. I told him that mine was getting that way, but it felt so good. He told me that he would come to see me at least three times a week and give me his huge cock. I told him I would have to clear it with my husband first.

When Pete came home that night, I told him what happened, and what the plans were. He loved the idea and got so horny he bent me over our table and fucked me right there. Then he ate me out, licking out his, mine and the cum of the man who had me earlier that day. Then he told me that he wanted me to tape my indiscretion's on video so he could watch it later. He set up the camera in the next room, and went out and bought a one way mirror to hide the camera behind. I would just have to turn it on before I went in the bedroom with this new lover, whose name was Mike.

The next day, he knocked at the door and I answered it nude. We made our way towards the bedroom, and I had him go in and strip, telling him I needed to use the bathroom. After I came out, I went in the next room and turned on the camera. When I entered the bedroom, he was naked on the bed with his cock rock hard. I lay down and immediately began to suck him. Finally, he pulled me off without shooting his sperm into my mouth and laid me back on the bed. He mounted me and entered me fully with one long hard thrust. He continued to fuck me, making me cum repeatedly. After about forty minutes of ramming my pussy with his big dick, he came, filling my cunt with his seed. Still not soft, he had me get on my hands and knees and I felt him start to push in my asshole. I knew he was too big, and told him he'd never be able to get it all the way in.

I grabbed some KY of the night stand, and he coated my asshole and his dick with it. Soon, he had the head in my ass and I felt a tremendous pressure. He managed to get about half of it in me, and contented himself with that. He fucked my ass, hard and fast for an hour. By the end of that time, he had managed to insert the entire length up my ass. This feeling made me cum so hard that I almost passed out. Finally, he began to moan and soon was shooting his cum up my ass. After he left, I watched the video and was soon horny again. I got a dildo out and went back to the room where I watched the tape and began to fuck myself. After my relief, I rewound the tape and went about the things I had to do. Later that night, after Pete got home, he watched the tape and then took me, cumming more quickly than before. I had become a slut, and both of us loved every minute of it.

We went on vacation to the Caribbean and before we were there a half day, a local black man had gotten into my panties. I was on the beach, sunning in my very brief bikini thong, with no top on, and he sat next to me. I didn't bother covering up, and he reached out and began to massage my nipple. I warned him not to start anything he couldn't finish, and he pulled me to my feet and had me follow him to a clearing in the jungle. He stripped and I was amazed to see the largest cock I had ever seen. He told me that I would feel his prick where no man had ever been. Standing there, his cock reached down to his knees and was indeed a monster. It was every bit as long as sixteen inches, and I found myself getting very wet between my legs. He pushed me to the ground, and climbed on top of me, pulling my thong aside and then entering my pussy. He managed to get almost all of into me before he pushed against the back of my cunt. He used me like a slut, for that was what I was. In giving pleasure to other men, I pleasured myself. As he fucked me, he took my nipple into his mouth and sucked and bit at it until it was raw. Then he went to the other one. He shot his cum deep inside of me, indeed, where no man had ever been before. As he came, the cum ran out between my legs as he filled me to capacity.

We agreed to meet later that night, and we both left. I got back to the room, and Pete asked me if I had fun. I told him about it and about the meeting later that night. His cock was rock hard, and he fucked me, noting that my cunt was huge. I told him how the black man had stretched my cunt out, and he really began to fuck me hard. After he came, he ate me out, licking out all of the cum in my cunt.

At 9:00 PM, I left the room, and went to the beach. The black man met me there, and we went to his car. We drove to a house that was isolated and went inside. There, I saw about twenty other men, all naked. Their cocks were very large, the smallest being about a foot long. I looked at the man who brought me there, and he said that they were all going to fuck me. Then he unzipped my dress and let it slide to the floor. I was naked underneath, and they had me lie on the bed in the center of the room. They stood in line, and took turns fucking me, emptying their balls into me. They were taking me three at a time, filling all of my holes to the fullest. Each of them fucked me at least twice, some three times, and two of them four times. When I got back to our room, the sun was coming up and Pete was just getting up. I was covered with sperm, most of which had dried on my body. Pete made me get into bed with him before I showered, and we had some very wild sex. Because of the size of the studs who had taken me earlier, my cunt was so stretched out that Pete could hardly get any traction, no matter how hard I squeezed.

Even though my asshole had received these big cocks, it hadn't stretched out like my cunt, so Pete fucked me there. He told me what a whore I was, and this excited me even more. He pinched my very sore nipples, bringing out pain, yet pain coupled with the most excruciating pleasure. Finally, he shot off into me also, and I fell on the bed, passed out from exhaustion.

The whole week went that way, me getting fucked all night long, then slinking back to our room at daybreak where Pete would ravish me again. I was sorry when we boarded the plane to come back home. I wished this could have gone on forever. I felt so bad, knowing I was a slut, yet loving very second of it. I loved being filled in all my holes at the same time. I hoped that some of them would visit us back home.

One day, I received a phone call. It was one of the men from the island we stayed on. They had come to the states and wanted to look me up. I gave them directions and awaited their arrival. I was surprised to find six of them at my door as I answered it naked. No small talk, they all just seemed to pounce on me like they did the week we were there. They were all still fucking me when Pete got home, and he joined in also. They stayed for two weeks, and hardly a minute out of the day passed when they weren't fucking me. God I had missed this! One of them stayed when the other's left for home, and now he lives with us, his job being to fuck me all day long. And, he excels at his work! House boy has definitely taken on another meaning with him there now!

[adrenaline-roulette]

Love of My Life

This is a cute little one shot that I uploaded to AO3 ages ago. It only just occurred to me that I never posted it here, so here ya go, I hope you all enjoy  a little bit of soft domestic Rog!

Word count: 2k +

❤❤❤❤❤

You wake up to a red-hot pain searing through your leg, the muscle spasming and cramping against the soft mattress you had been sleeping comfortably on just moments ago. “Fuck!” You screech, sitting bolt upright against your pillows, suddenly wide awake, tears springing to your eyes. The body sleeping beside you stirs as you jostle them in your sudden movement, though they remain asleep. You breathe deeply as you reach your arm out to massage your calf, though it’s difficult to bend that way when you’re seven months pregnant. “Roger… Jesus Christ Roger, wake up!” You hiss, smacking his shoulder none to lightly in order to wake him.

“Huh? Y/N, what’s wrong? Is it the baby? I’m not ready! We haven’t packed anything yet!” Roger all but cries, as he too sits up in a flash, surely giving himself whiplash as he does so. He looks around in the dark, fumbling his hand over the nightstand until he connects with the lamp, switching it on and allowing for a warm glow to chase away the midnight shadows of the room.

You want to laugh at his panic, want to reassure him that you still have time before the baby arrives, though you stop short when another spasm shoots through your leg. “Rog, it’s a cramp not the baby. I just can’t reach to massage it out!” You whine, throwing your head back and frowning, as your toes are stretched into an en pointe position. Sweat beads form on your brow as you breathe more deeply, if anyone were to walk in on you now, they would likely think you had in fact gone into an early labour! “Just, ugh! Please help!” You whimper, as you feel him moving next to you. This wasn’t the first time this had occurred, in fact this was the second time this week! It seemed the further along in your pregnancy you got, the worse the cramps became. The one earlier this week had been utter torture, it had been a cramp in your thigh, something you had never experienced before, and it left you stiff for days afterwards. At least this time it was just another calf cramp, those you could deal with,

Roger slides off his side of the bed, shoving his glasses over his nose. He was adamant that he didn’t need glasses to see, though you knew better, and created the rule that when he was home with just you, he was required to wear his glasses, in an effort to at least somewhat preserve his eyesight. “Alright I’ve got this.” He mumbles to himself, as he kneels down beside the bed, wrapping his warm hands around your straining leg. “Drink some water, I read that it will help with the cramps.” He suggests, as he rubs his thumbs against the muscle. It had taken him a few tries to know exactly what would help you in these situations, though after the fourth cramp, he knew where to apply pressure, and how much pressure was beneficial to you.

Diligently, Roger sits by your side for around ten minutes, massaging your leg, then helping to stretch out your foot once the initial cramping had ceased. It felt wonderful to be able to bend your knee again, a luxury you would never take for granted again. With the sweat now gone, your tears now dried, and your leg now once more mobile, you look at Roger, offering him a weak smile.

“Thank you Rog. I- I don’t know what I would do without you.” You murmur, as you move to swing your legs off the side of the bed, your feet resting against his knees as he continues to kneel on the floor beside the bed.

He grins his cheeky face up at you, blonde hair a mess from sleep, though it only added to his overall appeal. “Hey now Y/N, it’s what I’m here for. Besides, if you’ve got to grow this baby, the least I can do is massage your leg!” He chuckles, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your ankle, causing your toes to curl in appreciation.

You reach a hand down to him, and his fingers hook between yours as he pulls himself into a standing position. “Are you worried?” You ask with a gentle smile. He frowns at your question, unsure as to what you were referring to. “About the baby I mean. You uh, seemed a little panicked when I woke you up before. I mean, we still have time to get everything ready, but about not having packed anything. At the end of the day, if the baby decides it’s ready to be born, I don’t think our number one priority should be bringing the perfect outfit.” You smirk, as you rub a small circle into the back of his hand.

He looks down at his feet, shuffling them against the carpet, before meeting your eyes once more. “I think I’m more excited than nervous.” He finally says, squeezing your hand once. “It’s just that, I want everything to be perfect when she arrives. I suppose I keep thinking that when the time does come, I’ll forget something. Probably something important knowing me, like the car keys.” You roll your eyes at that, wanting to shake some sense into the silly man.

“Rog, we won’t forget anything, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, we can pack some essentials in the morning, just in case?” You suggest, and you grin as his face lights up eagerly, all signs of worry and stress leaving his soft features. “Now come here.” You command, patting the empty bed space beside you. “We have roughly two months until this little one is born, and we still haven’t decided on a name yet!”

Roger launches himself onto the bed, flying over you and landing heavily on his side, the entire bed moving as he lands. You frown as you wobble unsteadily, the baby kicking your stomach in annoyance at her dad. “Alright, names, this I can do!” He promises, as he leans his head against his hand, propping his elbow up on his pillow and facing you. You slowly move down onto your side, mimicking his position and grinning at him.

“Well then, let’s hear what your suggestions are then. And no, before you ask, we are not naming her Rogerina.” You can see he’s about protest your decision, though you raise a challenging eyebrow, and you watch as the fight quickly leaves him.

“Fine, how about Galileo? I never did find out who Galileo was…” He trails off, and you smack his bicep, at a complete loss for words at his stupidity, surely Brian had told him exactly who Galileo was?

“Galileo Galilei, was for starters a man, and is one of the most famous astronomers to have ever lived! Honestly Roger, did you pay any attention is school?” You groan deeply, pressing your palm over your eyes.

Roger looks at you seriously for a few moments, your explanation did sound oddly familiar, and he found himself remembering Brian all but yelling at him in the recording studio after having asked who Galileo was, he felt he had a right to know who he was considering he had been singing his name non-stop for the past hour! “Alright fine then, so you don’t like Rogerina, and you don’t like Galileo, I’m running out of names here Y/N!”

“How about we compromise hm? If we ever get a dog, then we can call him Galileo or her Rogerina, how does that sound?” He’s going to drive you insane at this rate, the temptation to just leave and live out the rest of your life in Antarctica was becoming more and more appealing by the second.

“Sold!” He cheers, as he leans over and presses a soft kiss against your lips, pulling away before either of you can take it any further. You pull your hand away from your face, eyes falling on his as you both just lay on the bed together, neither talking, just enjoying the comfort of being close to one another. “On a serious note, how about Lillian? Or Charlotte?” He smiles, reaching out and resting a hand against your rounded stomach, rubbing your bump through your cotton shirt, which was at least three sizes too big for you, but was ever so comfortable to sleep in.

“Where did those names come from?” You tilt your head slightly to look down at his calloused hand against you stomach, placing your free hand over his.

He looks up at you, shrugging his shoulders in response. “Honestly I’m not sure. I think there might have been a Charlotte at the studio we last recorded in, and Lillian, well I know you love lilies, so it seemed fitting.” There’s a blush creeping up his neck, and slowly spreading over his cheeks as he explains his name suggestions, and you can’t help but smile, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. Sometimes you forget just how romantic Roger can truly be. He always puts on such a tough exterior, but every now and then he does something so extraordinarily sweet and thoughtful, that you almost forget that he’s the same person.

“Both names are beautiful Rog, maybe she could be Lillian Suzanne Taylor? My Nana was named Suzanne, and I wouldn’t mind incorporating a name from my family.” You bite your lip as you wait for him to mull over your daughter’s future name.

“Taylor? We’re going with my last name?” He asks, eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

You frown in confusion. “Of course Taylor, I mean I know we aren’t married, or even engaged. But I figured one day we might be, and I thought it could be nice to have our daughter have your last name, that way in the future we will all be Taylor’s…” You ramble, feeling your face flush in embarrassment. Maybe this was the wrong assumption to make? The pregnancy itself had been a bit of a surprise, though you had both decided it would work out for the best. Marriage, however, hadn’t been mentioned in anything other than fleeting conversations about the distant future. Roger’s lips are covering yours suddenly, both of his hands cupping your cheeks as you feel what you assume are tears running down your cheeks. They aren’t your tears though, these are all Roger’s. He pulls away from your lips, his baby blues swimming with unshed tears, before he moves down the bed somewhat, resting both of his hands on either side of your stomach.

“You hear that, you’re going to be Lillian Suzanne Taylor! And when you’re born, I’m going to propose to your mother, and then we’ll be a family on paper as well as in practise! And then when we get the dog, we’ll be a perfect family!” He gushes, pressing kisses to your stomach, as you run your hand through his blonde locks.

“So, you’re going to marry me, are you?” You tease, as he finally pulls away from your stomach, where he had been mumbling sweet nothings to your unborn daughter. He looks up at you with a shy smile playing on his lips.

“Well, I had planned on doing so. I don’t have a ring or anything at the moment, but say for instance I was to propose to you, would you say yes?”

You grin at him. “Of course I would say yes you idiot!” You giggle, as your lips meet once more, his hands resting against your hips as he slides you closer to him.

“Cool, good to know, I’ll keep that in mind.” He smirks, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I love you Y/N, I love you with my entire being.” He whispers, holding you closer, pressing soft kisses to your nose.

“I love you too Roger, and I know you’re going to be an amazing father when the time comes.” You assure him, as you scrunch up your nose at his kisses.

You lay in his embrace, both dozing on and off until the early hours of the morning, neither of you bothering to crawl back under the doona covers you had stripped off earlier, and despite the bedside lamp glaring into your eyes, you didn’t want to disturb Roger and ask him to turn it off. “Psst, Rog are you awake?” You murmur against his ear, watching as a sleepy frown slips over his brow.

“Mhm, I’m awake.” He all but yawns in response, his arms instinctively pulling you closer to him. He blinks his eyes open, searching for you for a moment, his glasses askew on his face from where he had pressed up against the pillow.

“Do you know if we still have any mint ice cream in the freezer?” You ask, the question catching him off guard, and you watch as the confusion crosses his face. “It’s not for me, it’s for Lillian!” You quickly defend, knowing he’s only seconds away from moaning about your ridiculous cravings. He rolls away from you to face the edge of the bed, pushing himself up to stand, all the while muttering under his breath about the injustice of the world. You close your eyes as he shuffles out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

“Stop complaining! Do it for your daughter!” You laugh out to him when you hear the freezer door close rather sharply.

“If my daughter isn’t careful, she will be called Galileo and the dog can be Lillian!” He calls back.

“Not gonna happen!” You giggle, as you wriggle up into a sitting position, tapping your fingers lightly against your stomach, feeling Lillian kick at the sensation. “We’re so excited to meet you Lillian, and you’re going to have the most amazing daddy in the world.” You whisper, as you settle back with a content smile on your lips, knowing that your little family was going to be just perfect.

My Masterlist

[undecidedpersonality]

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Twenty-Three: Poison

Title: “The Royal Murderer”

By: Nalijah Daniels

Word Count: 1874

Genre: Fiction - Fantasy

CW: murder, death, public execution, sacrifice, 

I might as well have been a lab rat under bright-white observation lights. The beige uniform was baggy on my thinning body and made it uncomfortable to sleep. All it did was twist around my body, yanking me out of my dreamless sleep to struggle with it until it was back in place. Every night was like that. Just like every day was the same.

The blinding lights turn on at exactly 8 a.m. I flip onto my stomach and push my face into the thin pillow, trying to make the space behind my closed eyes as dark as possible. The heavy door on the opposite wall slides open, activated by the fingerprint of my security guard, Manuel. He used to be nice to me until I was caught halfway through my only possible escape plan and put his job on the line. I always smile at him when he forces me to sit up on the bed and hauls me out of the room, gripping around my arm just below the armpit. He hasn’t smiled back in 167 days. I know this because I’ve been counting on the wall with a tiny piece of chalk left here from who knows what. I’ve been here for 378 days in total. I marked the day Manuel stopped smiling with a small ‘x’ at the top. Day 211.

Once we’re through the door of my cell, we turn left, a long curve of concrete walls stretch ahead of us. There’s no other doors until we get to the bathroom. This is the only positive part about my prisoner gig; I’m allowed showers every other day. When I was younger, rumors spread around town that royal prisoners were only allowed to shower once a month. Apparently the hygiene of a criminal doesn’t matter. Don’t even get me started on their rumored food schedules. I imagine they let me shower this often because when they finally get to show off my dead body to the public––they’re gonna want to do that––it would be off-putting to see grime on the beautiful young body and face of a twenty-year-old girl, no matter how dangerous I was.

The water shoots out of the rusted head high on the wall at first with a sputter, then a steady stream, pelting my body with near scalding water. The smooth water beads rolling over my body has been the only positive touch I’ve gotten in over a year. I glance over my shoulder to Manuel standing in the opposite corner of the square room, his eyes trained on the wall across from him, hands clasped behind his back. I put an innocent smile on my face and whistle, trying to catch his attention. I’m never getting out of here alive, and he already hates me, so I might as well have as much fun playing mind games as I can. I begin to ramble about anything that I think might draw his eyes towards me. Why I hate the new Duke. My longing for the touches of my pre-imprisonment lovers. My yearning to step under the night sky and not see it through a small barred window five feet above my head. I even begin to sway my bare hips and sing an old lullaby about marriage. I don’t even get a muscle spasm in response.

I roll my eyes when he continues to ignore me and drop the act to focus my mind on something else. Just like every other dull moment, my mind manages to drift to why I’m here. I sacrificed myself for my younger brother, who was almost imprisoned for keeping my identity a secret. Even though they knew my real name, Izetta Llewellyn, they had called me The Royal Murderer around town. The townies whispered around me in the shopping center when I snuck through in disguise, none of them knowing I was right there.

Once, I was the right hand woman of the Duchess, happily waiting on her hand and foot as soon as I turned fifteen. Despite our ten-year age gap, we were the best of friends, the sister I never had. She made sure that my position as her young lady-in-waiting wasn’t taken too seriously so that I could still have “good ol’ teenage fun.” She trusted me with all of her secrets, including how the Duke berates her while throwing her around in their private residence. I helped undo her dress the evening she told me and saw the lightening bruises across her sides and stomach. He told her that he’s only going to stop abusing her because she’s pregnant, but that he wasn’t afraid to punish her again if she messed up just bad enough. I was eighteen then. I wasn’t going to let that possibility happen.

Being young and trusted meant I had a lot of access to the kingdom. I was  never seen as a threat. The tapestries of rich color and stitching that hung down over the charcoal gray stone walls familiar to me in every hallway but one. The one that I walked down that fatal day had paintings with details of greens, golds, and white. The Duke’s favorite color scheme. They were the colors he adorned himself in to attend his most important events. I rapped on the doorframe to his open study and stood with my hands folded in front of me, waiting for him to look up.

He greeted me kindly, like I truly was the little sister-in-law he never had. He often ruffled my hair when seeing me, telling me just how much the Duchess adored me. As if I didn’t know. I put a small smile on my face to appear to be that same honorable, innocent, young girl. When he invited me into the room, I didn’t let much time pass. I would need as much time as possible to get out from the kingdom walls and off the grounds in order to not be caught. They would know it was me. The cameras caught and kept everything they weren’t told to delete.

When I plunged the dagger into his stomach, a true smile, honest and wide, spread on my face as I stared into his angry and scared eyes. They were hard set on mine, yet darting to figure out how to help himself as I whispered into his ear everything that I knew, telling him how happy I was that he would never be able to do them again. 

I’m still not sorry.

I learned I was immune to poison when they caught me. My older brother had been hiding me for a year when royal guard’s found out he was The Royal Killer’s accomplice. They dragged him into town square, pushing him onto his knees on the bottom step of the dais the royal family sat on for public events, like execution. Knowing what this would do to my mother and father––knowing that would be my fault for my brother’s conviction––I wasted no time revealing myself. I pulled the dark cloak’s hood from my head as I stepped out of a shadowed corner, declaring that they could take my life in exchange for my brother’s safe return home. My brother looked at me with wide eyes––bewilderment, terror, and rage dancing across his face–– because I wouldn’t let them take him. He wanted me to be safe from them, but there was no extra time wasted as I got dragged to his place.

The kingdom was never one for mutilating people, no matter how bad their crime, so they could keep their status to their citizens as classy and not blood hungry. Public murders were cold and emotionless instead, making everyone watch the person’s life disappear behind their eyes after forcing them to swallow a vile of poison. The toxin levels were what made the punishment. Some simply fainted in mere seconds and were gone. Others, like the one intended for me, would seize the person’s body for multiple minutes, leaving them writhing and screaming in agony on the ground, unable to pull themselves up and away from the pain. When I was younger watching these events, I had always imagined the toxins feeling like fires burning your body from the inside out, your bones snapping under the pressure of heat until you were nothing but a sack of flesh laying on the ground. None of that happened to me.

After sitting on my knees, waiting for the pain to seize me––nothing. The crowd murmured and the royal family, sitting at the top of the dais the whole time, began to stir. Before I could attempt to run off, I was hauled up by four guards to be taken to the cell I’ve been in ever since. As they marched me past, I saw the Duchess who was already staring at me. Her knuckles were white as they gripped the arms of her chair but her face was soft, one tear falling down her left cheek before I could no longer see her.

The shower water shuts off. My fifteen minutes of warmth finished. I’m hauled back the same way I came after toweling off and putting on a fresh uniform. Now for my first meal of the day.

They never give me much, just enough to put what they hope is the right dose of this and that chemical mixture to end me once and for all. This time it’s a muffin, banana nut. I hate banana nut muffins, but I have no choice but to consume it. Manuel would force it into my mouth if he had to like the first couple of days that I was here.

I lower my head to the plate to stiff it. I expected to be solely repulsed by the sweet banana smell but a wave of nausea washes over me instead. This other thing, I don’t actually smell, but its toxic makeup sends warning signals to my brain right away. I’ve never experienced this before, this sickness. When I look up at Manuel, his eyes burn into mine and he smiles, cruel and excited, breaking the streak.

Letting out a slow breath, I try to swallow but the tightness in my throat makes it nearly impossible. For the first time in 378 days, I am scared. I lift my hands from resting in my lap and they feel heavy, the muffin making them even heavier as I cup it in my hands. My breathing becomes more ragged as I close my eyes and lift the muffin to my mouth. My lips begin to tingle just from touching the muffin to my lips. I try once to open my mouth to take a bite and can’t bring myself to do it. My final bite. I know it will be. Opening my eyes, the white lights and everything it encompasses is blurry and shakes. I don’t know when I started crying. My mouth is finally able to open wide enough to sink my teeth into just one edge of the buttery pastry. The sweet and salty taste seizes my heart before I’m able to swallow and I gasp for air that isn’t there anymore.

This time they found my kryptonite. This time I die.