#like she's ... she thinks he's so bright and so intelligent and so fucking perfect

[zorkaya-moved]

" you are always on about helping me," for someone whose voice usually comes in a subtle, warming tone, it has taken the turn for something more heated today as their debate, nay, argument had come to blossom as a result of long nights and dreadful projects. in the aftermath of the disagreement, kaveh will find himself in a pit of embarrassment and guilt for having stood his ground, but he couldn't accept it. he wouldn't accept it.

" to say that it's pride is only a portion of it, but i have never had to rely on anyone in my life --- i couldn't. there was simply no room for me to rely on anyone, let alone ask for it and --- that's why i can't stand by and simply allow you to help me, when you clearly do not wish me to help you in return. are we not equals ? do we not share a mutual form for respect, do you think less of me because you see yourself in a position to protect me and support me ? because i won't have you in such a position, zarina. "

it's not anger , per say , simply frustration. he is frustrated with how she puts up a mighty act of a stable, strong woman, for while she is ( archons know she is, she is so strong, and kaveh looks up to her in so many ways / had he been one for prayer, her feet would be the ones he'd find himself bowing to in seek of grace ) she remains as human as him at the end of the day. the pain and hurt he felt certainly were no strangers to her. does she not think he feels the way her face tends to drop the second he turns, or notice how her thoughts wander in the corner of his eyes when he find himself occupied by the desk ?

" let me look after you the way you look after me. let me take care of you the way you take care of me --- for it seems too long ago since anyone did the same for you. " crumbling in his stance ( is my love not enough for you ? ), the heated tone has come to falter in favor for a softer and honest one, as hands seek out to her cheeks, pleading to hold her tenderly in his grasp. " you are my life , zarina. how do you expect me to allow you to be my foundation when you refuse to accept it from me in return?"

@avaere

Their argument breaks out and nothing feels real for the first second. They’ve never argued like this before, it’s never come to this. It’s unusual for the architect to look at her like this and speak to her like this. It confuses her, it makes her wonder, and it makes her question exactly what brought this out. And the more words leave Kaveh’s mouth, the more confused and puzzled she becomes. It doesn’t make sense. It simply doesn’t make sense to her. Is he… not happy? Is he upset that she offers her support? Is he upset that she wants to keep him safe? It doesn’t seem logical nor does it seem like something he should be so frustrated over. The questions circle in her head and Zarina tries to search for an answer, but instead she’s met with a wall. She slams into it mentally as Kaveh keeps talking. 

—That's why I can't stand by and simply allow you to help me, when you clearly do not wish me to help you in return. Are we not equals?—

“We are…” Sokolova whispers to his question, still finding herself at a loss for words simply because she cannot fathom the reasoning for his upsetness, frustration, and fiery anger. It makes no sense for him to be hurt in her mind. 

 —Do we not share a mutual form for respect, do you think less of me because you see yourself in a position to protect me and support me?—

What are you talking about? Zarina asks internally, eyes empty and hollow at those words. Suddenly, his words echo in her head and she can’t find the will in herself to really suppress them. To her, everything he says right now simply doesn’t fit in her understanding. Is she not supposed to help him? Is this not proof of her love? Is this not enough for him to understand how much he means to her? Is this now what love is supposed to be about? 

Finally, Zarina isn’t weak to keep those she loves unprotected. She gained everything she needed to keep these important people safe. She has power, she has influence, she has money, she has it all. She has information on each and every important person in almost all of Teyvat. She has customers and clients who are of noble birth and who would beg for her to take a look at their cases. She has it all to ensure those she loves have a comfortable life. 

Because she, a woman who lacks any humanity behind her void gaze, can only feel human while being with them. They keep her a person. They keep her away from the numbness, void and hollowness. They keep her away from losing the joys and colors. They are her colors. Kaveh is her Sun and the person she wants to keep happy the most. 

But… 

—Because I won't have you in such a position, Zarina.—

…I’m strong enough to be in that position, am I not? Why don’t you just let me do it?  

She isn't weak. She isn’t weak anymore to have others fuss over her. She doesn’t have anyone to worry over her and try to keep her from harm’s way. Now she can take care of herself, she can protect others like she always wanted. There won’t be laughs of men cruelly kicking her and calling her a little princess, there won’t be Victor hurt while trying to protect her, there won’t be Aleksey who they fret over as her parents are gone, and there won’t be any other people they’d be indebted to who can use them for their own ridiculous schemes. 

No, she’s climbing to the top and it means she won’t have anyone look at her or her family the wrong way. She can tear apart anyone who dares to mistreat her or her family. She has everything to keep herself occupied, interested, away from the deafening silence and frigidness. 

Ah, but that’s not it. That’s not what Kaveh says and that’s where the dissonance happens. Her past clashes against her present.  

Why do you look at me like Victor did? I’m stronger now. I can protect you. I won’t be hurt anymore. There’s no need to worry, no need to try and protect me, I’m fine. I’m…

—Let me take care of you the way you take care of me --- for it seems too long ago since anyone did the same for you.—

His tone crumbles and she can see him reaching out. After all, she had no second to input any of her words into this conversation. His stream of words hit her a bit harder than she’d ever expected. It makes her confused, all too confused and lost.  

This means that she hasn't been successful or what does it mean? It makes her think of Victor who’s been trying to take care of her when she was rescued. It makes her think of how when she came to Sumeru, she was looked down on by Scholars and those who were against Snezhnaya. Now they love or hate her, seeking her out despite pride and prejudice because they know she’s stronger. Isn’t it fun to see those people crawl to her? 

It makes her think of her selfishness, her indulgence, her sick satisfaction with reaching the top and watching people who underestimated her crumble before her feet. But then it all dissipates, she’s grown bored and sought out more. Like a ravenous beast in the body of a beauty. All hedonistic indulgences fade with time aside from sex and planning. The long-standing plans hold her interest for a little while longer until she’s left disappointed or satisfied for a medium period of time. It all fades, but not the warmth she feels when she’s with those she loves. Not with Victor, Aleksey, Kaveh… Not with them. Not with him. 

Oh, but Kaveh reaching out to her both emotionally and physically almost makes her feel fear. Almost, if not for her control over the internal state. It’s a titanium hold, but when his hands touch her cheeks, Sokolova feels something inside start to crack. The whispers in her mind say over and over again how he’d find her revolting, tyrannical, and cruel. He doesn’t know how little care for the world and its riches she has. 

She’s always lived selfishly, so giving to her loved ones feels like what she can do. After acquiring everything because her selfish self wanted to see how far she’d be able to reach, this development seems to be… baffling. 

His touch and his last words bring her out of that stupor. Still, confused and puzzled over these confessions within the argument, she feels at a loss. Emotions aren’t her strongest forte. Nay, genuine emotions aren’t her strongest forte. Zarina knows how to use them, manipulate them, and twirls them for her own benefit, but right now? It’s not about manipulation and malice. It’s not about shadows and darkness. It’s not about survival. It’s about… love, trust, and communication. 

Everything she wanted to protect since childhood yet never surrounded herself with until return home or when Kaveh was by her side. 

“What do you mean you don’t help me with anything?” She suddenly asks, her voice coming out genuinely puzzled but her eyes… Her eyes are bleak and cloudy, no, they’re hollow and empty when she begins. His hands against her cheeks feel so hot, her own body feels so cold. Is it because of her vision or is it because she remembered everything from that past? She doesn’t understand him, or does he not get the amount of things he does for her without knowing? “You always do. You’re the only one here who does.”

No one in Sumeru matters. No one in several regions matters aside from Snezhnaya where her brothers stay. Kaveh doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the ‘survival of the fittest’ rule she lives by, rules by, orders by. 

Zarina brings her left hand up, touching his hand but she doesn’t yet grasp it. Her fingertips grave over the fabric covering his wrist. She worries that if she grasps it, she’ll break it. Zarina recalls her first hunt in the snowy plains of Snezhnaya. She doesn’t want to break him.

“You make the nightmares go away. You make me feel safer than I’ve ever felt since…” The agonizing pain, the loud screams, the laughter of those who had control. “...since I was hurt,” Sokolova looks away for a moment, her words feel like they’re spilling out as if in desperation to get him to hear, to understand, to give him enough to have an idea but not dive into details (not yet). “You indulge me, you give me your time. There’s no silence, no hollowness, no void. You make me feel…”

Clarity returns to her golden eyes. The silverette takes a second to breathe, finally letting her fingers wrap around his wrist (tenderly, carefully). Her shoulders drop, her expression is one of light exhaustion and still flickers of bewilderment. 

“You make me feel human.”

It must be so strange to hear, isn’t it? To feel human. Isn’t she almost the most beloved in all Sumeru for her scholarly achievements, for her charismatic nature, for her connections and for her being the strongest candidate for the Amurta Sage? And yet, Zarina knows better than anyone that those achievements are not done for the sake of gratitude or betterment of the world. It’s selfish, it’s ambitious, it’s all out of boredom and pettiness. 

“You never ask for anything. I have power, I have money, I have connections, I have it all, but you never ask for anything,” she starts off. “You are my equal, if you were not…” She lets out a soft chuckle, but it’s sharp and cold. “...I wouldn’t fall for you, love you, treasure you, want to give you as much as I can. If you were not my equal, you’d be lost in the sea of faces I meet.” 

Golden eyes return to look at him, but she doesn’t smile nor show any emotion. If anything, she’s stone cold, but not guarded. She doesn’t hide, but there’s no bright light in her gaze and in her behavior.

“Do you… really think that I’ve reached all of what I have today through honored and honest work, Kaveh?” She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, but her golden eyes are growing colder the more she thinks about what she’s done… and how she feels no guilt or remorse or regret over everything. The people’s screams, the Abyssals’ pleas for mercy, the blood, the merciless ends, the survival. “Do you really think that I don’t see you as my equal? If I didn’t care about you or saw you as my equal, you would’ve never even gotten a glimpse of who I am. Like everyone else in Teyvat.”

A hard hitting sentence, isn’t it? Especially said with that razor-sharp gaze and a voice that got deeper as if she growled it out. But instead of showing the same cold-hearted ferocity, she presses her lips together and looks away from him as if ashamed. It’s not that she’s ashamed of who she is, but she is unsure of how much more she can say. 

“I… don’t know how to let others care for me,” she admits. “I don’t know how to stop protecting who I care about. And I don’t think… You’ll look at me the same if you learned the things I have to do to survive…” But also because when you’re not here, the boredom and silence come back in full force and I return to those frigid days. “What if the person you love is only kind to you, Kaveh? Will you hate me for it?” 

There’s a glimpse of cracks, of a weight no one ever expects someone to carry. But she doesn’t mind that. If it means she’s indulged and her family is protected, it means nothing. Is she really human when she does not feel any remorse for all the things she’s done? Perhaps, the only remorse and sadness comes when it comes to Kaveh. What if he fell in love with a phantom? What if her sharper and crueler sides will scare him away? There’s no fixing that. It’s simply who she is. 

“I don’t understand you.” Her lips are pressed together in frustration. “I don’t understand what you mean by taking care of me more than you already do. I don’t understand what you want from me right now. All these riches, all these connections, all of what I have… They are nothing compared to what you’ve given me. You taught me that I can love, I can experience love, I can feel it.” She brings her other hand up to touch his, but then pries his hands away from her face to hold them instead. “And yes, it doesn’t make the world better and it doesn’t make colors seem brighter, but it settles me down. It makes me… think that a normal life isn’t out of the question for me.”

 Then, Zarina laughs. But it’s hollow and bitter and feels like shattering. 

“To accept your help, I must give up control… of everything I am. And if I do,” she lets out a soft exhale. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to pick myself up if you reject me.” 

Finally, she smiles but that smile is soft and careful. Not sharp, not hollow, not cold. It’s more familiar to him. It’s more genuine, it’s as genuine as she can muster when her mind remembers everything she does behind his back to remain on top. She cannot simply end everything she rules over, it’s already too late. Too many people want her head, too many people rely on her, too many people have their eyes on her, too many people wait for her word like their only prayer.

“You are my lifeline, Kaveh. You already give me so much, I want to…” She gives his hands a squeeze, gaining up courage to say the next words. He’s more important to her than everything she’s acquired. She’s lived her life selfishly already. “But alright. I don’t yet understand, and that’s why… Can you teach me… how to let you care for me in a way you meant?” Without this iron control over everything. As she holds his hands in her own, she bends down to press her forehead against his knuckles. A beast offering its leash to another, she hopes he won’t turn away the more she opens up. “But please, I’m begging you, give me time to tell you everything. My life belongs to you, you are my heart. I still don’t understand, I probably will struggle, but be my guide here. So please,” she straightens up and gives him another small smile. She’s trying. It’s obvious. She’s trying against everything she’s been taught by life, by experience, by struggle and torturous existence. But for him? She’s trying. It’s tense, but she’s trying. “Be a patient teacher with me. I’ve never… been protected… and I haven’t been cared for since my childhood.”

[snowflakeanimelover]

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Relationship: Thomas Shelby x Mafia Boss!Female Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: cussing, death, major character death, secrets, lies, no Y/N mentioned, she is only given a last name, badass reader, lots of lore, slow burn, this chapter is a little rushed.

NOTE: this is basically just a Prologue, but if enough people like it then ill continue this :)

I believe this would be a perfect fit for readers theme song, for this story. Hence where the title comes from, as well.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════ ══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Prologue: The Greeting

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════ ══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

“Where is Tommy?”

That particular voice is very well recognized in this area. It has a stern and motherly tone with strict trauma behind it. The voice is so familiar that anyone who hears it from a distance of a mile away would know exactly who it belongs to. That voice belongs to none other than Polly Gray, the aunt of the Shelby brothers and sisters. Polly is known to be the intelligent one in the family, along with her nephew, Thomas Shelby.

Anyone who knows Polly knows to keep themselves a few feet back. She’s one woman no one wants to mess with—Thomas Shelby’s protection added to the threat.

“I don’t know,” John Shelby, second youngest brother, replied to his aunt with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “Fucker went off on his own a few days ago without saying a bloody word.”

A woman sat not too far from the Shelby and Gray. Her job is quite simple. Someone who counts the money in the Betting Shop, amongst other people. So far, she’s been working there for a few months now. Never has she spoken to the Shelby’s much, besides when she first met them to get the job.

But she wasn’t looking for talk. Her bright orbs often glanced over the shop, studying each and every person who belonged to the Peaky Blinders. And most importantly, she keeps her eyes on the important people, such as the Shelby family members and their allies.

Her back was facing John and Polly as they spoke, due to her desk being in a certain place, but she didn’t care. She doesn’t have to look at them to know what they’re talking about.

”What’s the trouble?” John finally asks after a beat of silence. Knowing her his whole life, he can't miss the unusual way she paced and looked a bit frantic. She’s worried about something, and if that's the case, then it ain’t good for the business or the family.

“Sullivan,” she answers him a bit harshly. “Tommy is supposed to meet him today, and he’s not fucking back.”

The woman listening in on the conversation raises her brows, pausing her writing and she tunes in. This was very important.

John nods absentmindedly, showing he’s listening. “Alright,” he stresses, rubbing his chin in thought. “Alright. Well, send Arthur.”

”Fucking Arthur?” Polly asks in disbelief. “You can’t be fucking serious. Tommy would have his shit if he knew Arthur took his place.”

”Well, what the fuck do you want me to do?”

The woman had already tuned out their voices as she brought herself into deep thought. She takes a moment to think properly; her plans, her ideas, her past business. And within a few minutes, a wicked smirk plays on her lips.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Light chatter and curses echoed in the small, empty church. The cloudy day had refused to shine light into the holy building, only candles lit in the most important places.

”What the fuck is taking him so long?” A man curses, pacing back and forth in the candlelight. His few body guards stood around, guns in their hands for preparation.

His lips part once more to complain about the tardiness of his new ally, but the sound of the door to the church creaking open makes him pause. Sullivan tilts his head, focused on the new arrival. Although it was too hard for him to see, the darkness took over the corners. “Thomas Shelby?” He calls out, guessing who it could be. “I don’t got all fucking night, eh? I’ve got things to do. Business to take care of,” he boasts, annoyed that his ally was late.

”Well, that’s no good,” a feminine voice breaks the silence, one Sullivan knows well.

Sullivan flinches back in surprise, pointing a finger at the darkness. “No, no…” he mutters in disbelief. “H-How the fuck did you know I was here?!”

“Come on, Jordan,” she teases lightly, slowly stepping into the light. Sullivan takes another step back. It’s her, for sure. The clothes say it all. The only woman to wear such material, such style. Much like the Peaky Blinders. “You’ve done me dirty. You think I’d just let you go so easily?”

”I said,” he yells out, anger and fear taking over his form. “How the fuck did you know I was here?!”

She takes another step forward, a threat. And that was it for Sullivan. “Fucking shoot her!” He demands, his bodyguards doing exactly as they are told.

Guns fire and men fall. It ended within seconds, with Sullivan’s men down in a heartbeat.

Sullivan watches in fear as two women come out from the darkness, dressed the same as the woman he fears the most. Members from her gang. Guns held tightly and confidently in their hands, pointing directly at Sullivan. She didn’t even have to lift a finger.

Sullivan doesn't say a word as he turns and flees, running through the back door of the church and into the dirty streets. She merely laughs, trudging off her long trench coat and handing it to one of the women standing by her side. “A chase?” She chuckles, rolling her shoulders. “How fun.” With that, she starts the chase.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

The run didn’t last long, to her disappointment. The man was down with one simple trip on the uneven gravel, hitting the ground hard. She jumps over a crate that was in the way, and stops to study the scene.

A smile grows on her lips as she pulls out her gun from her holster, pointing it right at him.

Sullivan’s words are slurred together fearfully as he begs to leave her alone, to let him live. He stumbles to push himself back up and eventually gives up, staying on the ground with his hands up in surrender.

“Where’s the money, Jordan?” She hisses, cocking the gun back.

”P-Please—please let me go, I-I swear I’ll pay you back all that I stole, Miss Rose,” he begs, “I-I’ll give you even more than that!”

She takes a moment to observe his fearful state. The way his body shook. The way he cowards with the gun being pointed right at his head. She reveled in all of it.

She wastes no more time putting just a little bit of pressure on the trigger, the bullet flying. Sullivan jerks back as the bullet goes straight through his head, and his body falls back.

Relief didn’t come as much as she hoped. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end—A feeling she was being watched. Her hand holding the gun lowers as her orbs turn, finding none other than Thomas Shelby, Arthur Shelby, and John Shelby standing there with their guns pointed right at her.

A sigh leaves her lips as she puts the gun back in its holster, pulling a smile at the boys. “Apologies,” she says, noticing the shocked expressions they hold, “I didn’t know I had an audience.”

[charliehoennam]

love in disguise.

a/n: request (and lil moodboard!!!!) made by @harmonity-vibes. isn't she the fucking cutest?!

summary: after being swindled into a one-night-stand with his best friend, he learns the truth and the consequences that one night had.

pairing: tommy cahill x f!reader

warnings: language, a lil smut if you squint hard, angst, noncon activities, sleeping with someone under false identity, mentions of pregnancy, lying.

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

Walking through the grassy field, you took a deep breath to try and ease the churn of your stomach. You knew this was so wrong in so many ways and you couldn’t let this happen to Tommy.

Lisa was always known for being one of the prettiest and most popular girls since as long as you could remember. 

Her perfect smile and bright eyes had boys drooling over her. Her poised and polished attitude had their parents swooning and eager to set their sons up with her. Her high grades filled teachers up with pride and joy every single test.

Despite having similar physical traits and even being mistaken for her sometimes, you felt you could never amount to her – especially when you noticed how deflated or uninterested people instantly became realizing you weren’t her.

She couldn’t fool you though. After years of growing up alongside her, you knew she was anything but the sweet and perfect little role model she led people to believe. 

You knew just how vindictive and manipulative she could be to anyone who wronged her or simply to get whatever she wanted. That was how she managed to snag Tommy Cahill, known for sweet-talking his way out of any trouble he got caught in.

Tommy was much different than his older brother. Sam was an overachiever. He had the smarts, discipline and charm that had every father hoped his daughter would marry.

When he enlisted in the military after high school, it seemed like town’s respect for him simply skyrocketed, leaving Tommy behind in his shadow.

Although Sam was the charming and intelligent brother, Tommy was the exciting bad boy that had girls daydreaming. His dopey smile and big blue eyes had turned you into one of those girls.

When Lisa introduced him to you as her boyfriend, your heart sank. You didn’t really think you had much of a shot with him, but you couldn’t help wonder what he saw in her or if he knew that the sweet hand-written letters and notes she would sneak into his locker were actually written by you under her persuasive command.

You ended up befriending your high-school crush instead and remained just as that ever since then.

 When you realized how much he genuinely loved her, you accepted that he would never see you more than a friend.

It may not have been exactly what you wanted, but you settled for being his friend because he was just great at it. He loved making people laugh and you could trust him with things that you couldn’t even think about sharing with Lisa.

The love you had for him was exactly what made you feel so awful when you learned how unfaithful Lisa’s been to Tommy years after. Not just by lying to him and pretending to be someone she wasn’t whenever he was around, but her betrayal has become physical and you couldn’t stand for it.

That was the real reason you agreed to go to the town’s birthday bash. The theme, that year, was masquerade and inspired by Mardi Gras. Almost everyone looked to the town’s birthday bash because it consisted of great good, cheap drinks and lots of music and fun.

Tommy had been looking forward to the event and kept asking Lisa to go over and over again, but she’d always tell him that she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it because of work.

The truth was that she had planned a romantic getaway with her lover to spend some quality time together after their conflicting schedules finally lined up. Because of that, Lisa had the bright idea of you meeting up with Tommy in her place. She figured you looked a lot like each other and he’d be too drunk to notice the difference.

You refused and told her that it was wrong. It wasn’t like you were twins playfully taking each other’s place in high school. This was her boyfriend, who would most likely be physically affectionate with someone that he didn’t consent to.

Used to getting what she always wanted, she then threatened to spread your intimate selfies she had stolen from your phone. Although you couldn’t believe it, you knew her too well to know what she was capable of to get what she wants.

Her threat had your blood boiling with rage. You decided she’d gone too long getting her way all the time.

“Enough is enough,” you told yourself.

Tommy was a good guy and he deserved to know the truth. Everyone deserved to know the truth about who she really is, and you were done lying on her behalf.

You repeated that in your mind as you marched your way to the music stage.

Though your intimate photos could certainly ruin your reputation living in a town as small as yours, you accepted the possible consequences as along as the truth could come out.  You could always move and settle down elsewhere if it came to it.

The fair was already crowded by the time you arrived. People in festive, colorful and bejeweled masks roamed around the tents set up with games, food and speakers to fill the air with local music.

You frowned to yourself as people you barely or never spoke to waved at you or lifted their drinks towards you as you passed. Clearly, they must have mistaken you for Lisa.

First, Mrs. Mulberry. She always never remembers your name and only greets you when you’re out with one of your parents.

Secondly, there was Nate. He never really talked to you, unless it was to get one of your friends’ number.

Then there was Mr. Dawson. He always mistook you for Lisa when he saw you around town and facepalmed himself when you corrected him.

You knew, in the back of your mind, that this was not real. They weren’t greeting you; they were greeting Lisa. But for once, just once, it felt so good to walk in her shoes. To be loved, seen and smiled to by everyone that walked past you.

Weaving through the crowd that engulfed the largest park in town, you saw his familiar silhouette from afar. He stood watching a band playing off to the side of the closed road, beer in his large hand. His head bounced along to the music as his foot tapped along to the bass.

As you walked towards him, your hand reached up about to remove the black and silver mask Lisa demanded you wear and you watched him turning towards you.

Feeling your presence, he turned and your insides melted from the bright grin he flashed towards you, stilling your hand and letting the mask remain in place.

In that moment, you felt the blood rush in your veins, traveling in time to the shy high-school you again – only this time you were his.

Like a deer in headlights, you drifted over the grass fully expecting him to recognize you. The grassy ground beneath you felt like clouds grazing over plains with steady ease.

“You made it!” he chuckled raising his hands to your cheeks, pulling you into a heart-stopping kiss. “I was starting to think you were gonna stand me up.”

It couldn’t have last longer than a couple seconds, but you were almost certain the world had completely stopped on its axis and sent you into the neverending black abyss of floating cold.

The lack of gravity that grounded you seeped into your mind with the wordless spell he suddenly had you under. Bewitched by his kiss, all self-control had successfully been drained.

“I-”you started to speak, but he cut you off.

“Come check out this band! They’re actually from Louisiana!”

 His bright blue eyes gleamed with an excitement that may have been heightened by the alcohol he was drinking.

Every word you were about to speak would be cut off by a remark on the band’s talent or a question about the fair, leaving you to burn up in the mesosphere between morality and desire with every kiss he surprised you with.

Although you knew it wasn’t right, you gave in to the lie and decided to rain ash over the land of repressed dreams and desires you had forced yourself to shield over the years with heavy clouds of selflessness for a single night.

Diving into the night head first, you went along with the lie throughout the night and washed its bitter taste in your throat with drinks. You didn’t think it would’ve gotten as far as him taking you back to his apartment.

Tommy was just as drunk as you were and unable keep his hands or his lips off you.

The alcohol in your bloodstream numbed you from reality and welcomed you warmly into an ocean of pleasure you’d longed for like a drought riddled desert welcomes an endless rain.

Cocooned in his warm touches and hungry kisses, you made your home there for a couple of hours. The thought of having him inside you, filling you up with a delicious stretch, had your panties drenched.

You had always wanted him to yourself and – believing the vigorous use of your birth control which you made sure to never forget – you made the decision to be a little selfish and indulge in a one-night stand.

You insisted that you both kept your masks on to add to the fun you shared in his bed and Tommy happily went along with it.

Looking over the drunken slumber that he quickly slipped into, you sat on the edge of his bed and admired his features that seemed so gentle and soft at the moment. You ached to reach out and caress every single one of them, to show how appreciated they deserved to be.

But you stopped yourself with your hand in midair.

The silence of his bedroom was so loud as guilt and disgust with yourself trickled in your mind through slow sobriety.

With tears quickly building in your vision, you quietly gathered your clothes from his bedroom floor and sneaked out of his room to dress quickly in the living room.

Shoes in hands, your feet pattered against the cold sidewalk as you paced through dark streets as if you could run from your guilt.

Despite that one-night stand with Tommy, you later found out that it had been in vain. Lisa’s affair was brought to his attention when a neighbor had mentioned seeing her with someone she had introduced as his cousin Adam at a diner on the outskirts of town. Only he didn’t have a cousin named Adam.  

Tommy went into a downward spiral after that. Drinking and substance abuse had become his escape and way of coping with the pain as he felt it was the only thing that could numb him enough to go about his day.

Watching him go down that path wasn’t easy. Watching the strip on your pregnancy test turn blue was even harder. Although you tried to help him however you could, you knew you couldn’t tell him the truth about that night out of fear that it could be the last drop to push him over the edge into consequences no one could bring him back from.

When you heard about him going off to jail for armed robbery, you were surprised and couldn’t believe he would really do such a thing.

Tommy was always so kind-hearted; you refused to believe it until you watched him confess to the crime remorsefully in court. The way he couldn’t even look at the poor victim just proved that it was true.

Despite it all, Tommy was still your friend and you decided to not give up on him like other people, including his own dad, had.

Over the constant e-mails and letters you wrote back and forth, he shared how prison had been actually helping him sober up; that the classes he’d been taking helped him become more aware and clear-minded. You were happy for him and anxious to see him, so you decided to pay him a visit.

What Tommy hadn’t expected was to see you with a large swollen belly. Needless to say, he was shocked but overall happy for you as he bombarded you with questions about how far along you were, what was the gender of the baby, why you hadn’t shared the amazing news with him before.

As your friend, he was just genuinely thrilled because he knew you’d make a great mother. Aside from that, Tommy always knew he wanted to have kids and he had a way with them since as long as you could remember.

You knew he deserved to know the truth. You tried to tell him many times; the crumpled drafts of letters you decided not to send him were proof of your attempt to be honest.

But the words just weighed like rocks in the back of your throat, dropping to your stomach to infect you with their burden and ripple out with waves of sickness.

He was doing so well, getting cleaned and focusing on his future, making plans to be better.

Struck by the familiar fear of ruining his life even more, you opted to stay silent and to lie about the baby’s father, telling him and everyone else that asked that the man was just someone you’d met at a bar.

It’s been a few years since that night and all you have to remember it by is your memory… and your now 4-year-old so, Charlie.

When you heard he was finally out of jail and clean, you strongly believed it was the right time to tell him the truth. You owed him that much.

You hung a bit after he was free, occasionally meeting up for a coffee either at a coffee shop or at your place.

When you were finally ready to come clean, he told you about Sam’s disappearance that had been ruled a death which quickly changed your mind again.

You didn’t see much of him after that since he had decided to concentrate on his family. You remembered how he talked about Grace; about how pretty and what a great mother she is; how amazing she is for letting him reconnect with his nieces.

Once again, you felt the invisibility swallowing you back into its depths. He would never look at you as anything more than just a friend.

Although it hurt to accept, you figured it was the push you need to tell him. Until Sam came home.

His family really went through with Sam after he didn’t come home the same Sam that everyone knew and loved.

Out of respect for them, you decided to distance yourself again from Tommy. Everything you learned about him and his family, like Sam’s mental breakdown or his admittance in a mental institution for war veterans or his return home, was from rumors and word of mouth that spread through the town.

It’s a sunny fall morning and orange, brown and yellows leave are sprinkled over your mother’s lawn as you rake them up into piles over the front yard while Charlie draws on the driveway with his colorful chalk.

“Mommy, I maded me and you! Come see!” Charlie shouts excitedly as his little legs race over to tug on your shirt.

“Alright, I’m going” you chuckle holding the rake in one hand and his little hand in the other.

Your compliment on his drawing earns you a bright smile from him as you bend at the hip to kiss his head until the sound of crunching leaves catch your attention.

“Uncle Tommy!” Charlie cheers quickly dropping his chalk as he races towards Tommy.

“There’s my favorite little man!” Tommy quickly sets the decorated gift bag down on the driveway to lift Charlie up and give him a proper hug. ��I hear you’re kicking butt in karate. You gonna teach me a couple moves, huh?”

“Uh huh! I learn how to pushkit!”  Charlies responds proud of himself.

“What’s pushkit?” Tommy frowns confused.

“He means push kick. You push and kick at the same time” you smile intervening. “It’s how he’s opening doors now.”

“That sounds useful,” Tommy chuckles setting Charlie back on the ground to pick his gift bag up and steps closer to you. “How you doing, sweetheart?”

“Pretty good” you nod. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.

“Yeah, that’s on me… Just been going through some family drama. ‘m sure you’ve heard about it already. Word travels fast here.”

“It does, yeah. You uh wanna come inside?”

“I’d love that” he nods with a smile.

After telling your son to come inside to wash up for lunch time, you lead the boys into the house.

“Your mom around? I brought you guys a gift too.”

“No, she’s at some pottery club with her friends today.”

“Mommy, can I has my pwesent?” Charlie asks tugging on your hand, big blue eyes shining up at you.

“Yeah, baby. Of course. I’ll let uncle Tommy give it to ya, while I make us chicken nuggets.”

“Oh, sweet. Can I stay for lunch too?” Tommy grins setting the bag on the kitchen counter to pull out Charlie’s gift.

You nod at him with a smile and remind him he’s always welcome in your house.

Leading Charlie into the living room to open his gift, you notice the size of the wrapped present that already has his eyes wide with excitement.

Watching from the kitchen as you prepare lunch, you smile listening to Charlie’s endless thank you’s as he unwraps and finds his brand-new doctor playset kit.

“I remember you said you wanna be a doctor, right?” Tommy smirks widely at the boy. “Lemme open it for you.”

Tommy is more than patient as he untwists the plastic ties that keep all the fake equipment in place.

“Can I be your first patient?” he asks playing along with the young child’s imagination. “I think I got a problem with my shoulder. It’s been hurting a lot and I really need to get it checked out by a doctor.”

“Ok,” Charlie smiles taking the placing stethoscope from the box to put it on. He holds the end part of it to Tommy’s back and asks him to breathe, remembering what the doctor does to him every time he goes there.

“Now I has to check your eyes and-and your mouth too.”

“And the ears too right?”

“Yeah, the ears too!” Charlie nods.

Tommy smirks as he glances at you from where he’s sat in the living room floor, letting Charlie use the fake stethoscope to listen to his back.

The whole scene takes you away for a moment and makes you feel like you’re really just watching a father and his son spending quality time together. It also makes you feel even worse for having kept this secret from him for so long.

“Ok, you got just a boo-boo here” Charlie emphasizes pointing to Tommy’s shoulder. “So you need is a mommy kiss because a mommy kiss make all the boo-boos go away.”

“Do I need a prescription for that?”

“Yeah!”

Charlie looks around for anything he can write down on and takes the notepad from beside the residential phone to scribble down “mami kizz” on a sheet of paper before tearing it from the spine to hand the note to Tommy.

“You can ask my mommy cause hers is the bestest,” Charlie replies squatting down to take the plastic needle from the box.

“Will do, doc” tommy smirks as he stands up. “Thank you.”

Lost in his own little word, Charlies takes all his favorite stuffed animals and action figures and lines them up on the couch while Tommy walks over to the kitchen.

“Got a prescription for a kiss, sweetheart. Doctor’s orders” he smiles sly at you.

You shake your head, not sure if he’s serious so you blow it off with a smile and thank him for the present.  

“I got something for you too, you know,” he says digging into the paper bag.

You modestly refuse, telling him that he didn’t need to get you anything; that you’re just simply happy to see him. He won’t take no for an answer, so you give in and take the rectangular box from his hand.

You tug at the red ribbon to untie it and open the box to find a beautiful and delicate, simple necklace that you just know cost Tommy a lot of money.

“Tommy, this is too much. I-I can’t accept this” you say shaking your head as you look up at him in shock.

“No, don’t worry. I want you to have it, for all your help when I was in jail, for visiting me and all… I really appreciate that you didn’t forget about me and I wanted to get you something nice.”

“It’s nice, it’s really nice. But I can’t…”

“Why not?” he chuckles frowning at you. “My money ain’t good here?”

“No, that’s not it,” you start.

The words that form in your head start to weigh like stones in your throat. You try to swallow them down, but it’s time Tommy learned the truth. You just hope that he can take it.

As you begin to tell him the truth about that night, his face contorts with confusion and anger. You apologize over and over again, although it’s not nearly enough to make up for it, trying to explain how you felt you had no choice.

He shakes his head and takes a step back away from you like he doesn’t want to believe you would ever be capable of lying and betraying him.

“Nah, I don’t fucking believe that,” he frowns shaking his head. “How the fuck could you do that? I fucking trusted you and, all this time, you were fucking lying to me too?! All these fucking years?!”

His raised voice catches Charlie’s attention and has the young boy frozen in the middle of the living room.

As Tommy takes a deep breath to control himself, you both glance over at the young boy. While you make your way towards Charlie, Tommy takes in his physical features. He realizes the similarities and chuckles to himself, not out of amusement but out of disbelief.

You quickly rush to the living room and tell your son to go upstairs to play in your shared room. The big blue teary eyes that stare up at you in fear fill you regret for letting yourself get caught up in your own feelings that night.

Despite that fact that you love Charlie more than anything and would never regret having him, you do regret that you hid this secret from Tommy for so long. But you know how explosive he can be and you can’t let Charlie see that.

Charlie, as sweet and obedient as he always is, hesitates as he notices Tommy pacing back and forth in the kitchen to keep his calm.

He’s afraid and tells you he doesn’t want to leave his mommy, but you insist and tell him everything’s alright, asking him to check up on the other stuffed animals he’s got upstairs now that he’s a doctor.  

Tommy sighs as he runs a hand over his face. As angry as he may be, the last thing he wants is for a child to see him as monster, let alone a child he’s really close to and could possibly be his.

“Everything’s ok, Charlie. Uncle Tommy just got a little mad, but everything’s ok,” Tommy says chiming in to reassure Charlie with a raised hand and a forced smile that you can see right through, but it’s enough to convince your son to go upstairs.

Walking to the stairs, he looks up the steps to make sure Charlie is out of the hearing radius before marching over to you.

“Is he mine?”

You go silent staring up at him, too afraid to tell him the truth.

The guilt bubbles inside you, weighing heavily in your chest. There’s nothing you can say to fix this.

Tears stream from your eyes. You keep swiping them away, but they don’t stop coming. You know nothing will be the same again between you and your best friend.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I’m not fucking stupid. Is he mine?”

“Yes…” you whisper.

“Jesus,” he scoffs running over his large hand over the buzzcut he’s been sporting since he’s been out of jail. “I-I can’t even fucking look at you right now.”

“Tommy, I’m s-“ You can’t even finish your apology.

He’s already storming out and slamming the door behind him as you stand in the kitchen crying silently to yourself.

You feel worse about it with each passing day, staring at his contact on your phone, debating if you should try to reach out.

Tommy used to call you at least once a day, just to check up and make sure you and your family are doing ok. But, now? You can’t even get him to reply to your texts.

It’s been a couple months since your fallout and Tommy hasn’t been able to get your last encounter off his mind.

Watching his nieces play in their backyard makes him think about Charlie and how much he misses him. Even though he’s not sure he can forgive you so soon, he hates that Charlie has to suffer from it. He’s just a kid, his kid now. He’s not to blame.

Tommy didn’t realize how badly he always wanted to be a father until his nieces came into his life. Until he was locked in a cage, counting every second of his life that was going to waste.

Talking to Sam helped him put things into perspective and made it clear to him that he had a decision to make.

In the last of the ignored texts, you told him you could raise Charlie on your own as you have for the past few years. Being a father is a decision Tommy has to make on his own and whatever he decided, you would respect wholeheartedly.

He never replied, but he hasn’t stopped thinking about it feeling caught in between the violation and betrayal of his trust and his urge to be a father. It’s what he’s always wanted; to be a father that he wishes his could be, but he would’ve never thought that it would have to be like this.

As the dying leaves crunch under the weight of his heavy boots, he makes his way towards your house and knocks on the front door.

Setting plates and silverware on the table for dinner, your mom waves a hand at you and claims she’ll answer it assuming it must be one of the neighbors.

“Tommy! What a surprise.” she says greeting him with a smile.

“H-hi, ma’m. Sorry to drop in like this, I was hoping I could talk t-“

“I got it, ma. It’s alright.”

You walk toward the door, swapping places with your mom as she finishes setting the table.

You invite him to come in, but he shakes his head avoiding your eyes, so you step up out and close the door behind you.

Hugging the knit cardigan your mom made for you closer around your body, your arms fold across your chest. An awkward silence lingers in the chilly air. You feel like you’ve already said so much that already hurt him badly, so what else could you really say at this point?

“How’s Charlie doing? H-He ok?”

“Y-yeah, yeah. He’s ok,” you reply in a soft tone, hoping to avoid any more arguments. “Kinda misses you though. Asks about you from time to time.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything to that. He’s not really sure what to say. But the fact that he can barely even look at you fills you with hopelessness, so you try to brace yourself for the permanent goodbye he’s about to give you.

“I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me to get over what you told me… But I do know that I wanna be there for Charlie. I want him to grow up knowing that he’s got a dad who loves him no matter what.”

Surprised by his decision, you wonder if it has anything to do with his own father. If it could be Tommy simply wanting to be the father he wishes he had, or if it could be influenced by his desire to prove to his dad that he’s not a complete fuck-up.

“Yeah. Of course,” you nod quickly. “T-that’s absolutely fine by me. I think that would be good… You don’t have to worry about money though. I mean, you can help with whatever you can, but I don’t wanna make this about money. I just want you to do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m gonna help out with money obviously, but I wanna spend time with him… Take him out to the park, play ball and that sorta thing.”

“He would love that” you smile thinking about Charlie’s excitement.

“This is just for him though.”

You quickly drop your smile and nod as you look down at your feet, biting the corner of your mouth as you wonder if Tommy will ever be able to forgive you.

“Y-yeah… I get that. For Charlie.”

[loserboyfriendrjl]

sirius was leaning outside the window, a cigarette loosely hanging between his fingers. he felt the window seat dip as another person sat down next to him. he turned his head around to see who it was and was met by lily evans’ bright green eyes.

she pointed to the cigarette packet. “may i?”

“suit yourself.”

she shrugged, putting one between her lips and grabbing the lighter, flicking it with her finger and lighting it up. “this party’s shit. marlene got pissed drunk and marlene’s holding her hair while she’s throwing up.”

“how come you’re not there?” he asked, not particularly interested in having that conversation. he wasn’t exactly evans’ biggest fan; having a friend who’s been having a crush on her for ages kind of does that to you.

however, he could not deny the fact that she was incredibly intelligent and skilled in a lot of subjects, and the debates she has with him in class were always amusing (and an opportunity to piss each other off, while at it.)

“i’ve been there for half an hour, while mary was flirting with gudgeon. quite a wingman, aren’t i?” she grinned around her cigarette. “now it’s her turn, i needed a smoke.”

“didn’t know perfect prefect did that,” he chuckled, cigarette between his lips, grey eyes meeting green.

she rolled her eyes at the nickname. “i’m far away from perfect, black. i took it up at home. behind my parents’ back,” she added. “didn’t find out yet but i wouldn’t be surprised if my sister ratted me out. she dislikes it and found out when she caught me with a few of my friends out.”

sirius raised his eyebrows. “you go out? and have friends?” he teased.

“oh, ha. you’re so funny,” her voice dripped with sarcasm. “i almost forgot to laugh.” she took a long drag, looking at the waning gibbous. “yes, i do, if you’re so curious.”

“i really am not.” he wasn’t exactly, yet the conversation, despite not particularly interesting, felt like it flowed naturally, banter-sprinkled and smoke-hazed.

“well, then, if you weren’t so curious.” she said, scratching her nose with a long, manicured nail. “i kind of miss home.”

“the winter holidays are coming up.”

“i’m not going.”

“why?”

“my sister’s having her engagement party and i’m not invited.”

“oh. well,” he snickered, exhaling smoke, “they’re pretty fucking boring, from my experience, either way. i’ve gone through a handful and really, the most interesting thing about them is the alcohol.”

lily snorted, inelegantly. “merlin, how great. marlene’s not going home either so at least i’ll have someone to spend my time with. i won’t bore myself to death that way.” she bit her lip, thinking. “i heard you and potter are staying here, too.”

sirius hummed in response; euphemia and fleamont potter were to be caught up with ministry work after the fiasco of the minister’s resignation, and gently indicated them to stay at hogwarts rather than stay at home, all by themselves.

“marlene said she wants to throw a new years’ party.” she sat up, stubbing her cigarette and smoothing her jeans. “you should join us,” she called out, over her shoulder, and sirius let a quiet laugh around the cigarette. maybe they would; it was bound to be interesting, wasn’t it?

[neteyamshoney]

Similarities

(This was kinda, very loosely, inspired by the song My Ex's Bestfriend by MGK)

Hey y'all. I had this idea in my head for awhile and I'm currently drafting a Neteyam x OC AU but I just had to get this out. After I'm done with that one, I'll expand on this one-shot. For now, enjoy a little fluff with my favorite blue giant :) Gif is also not mine. (I'm working on making pretty pics for the AU pic if anyone has tips to get those super cute ones I see on here lol)

Neteyam Sully x f!OC

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Ever since he could remember, Lo’ak had known his older brother to be everything he was not.

Brave. Strong. Intelligent. Accurate. Deadly. The perfect son.

They were so different. Day and night.

Though he loved to give him shit for it, Lo’ak understood the pressure his brother was under. Being the perfect heir to the clan, always having eyes on his every move, sounded like literal hell for the second son. He was secretly so glad that Neteyam was the oldest and not himself. He couldn’t imagine the mental stress that kind of pressure would put on him. How Neteyam didn’t have the urge to runaway from home and never return was a mystery to him.

It was only natural for Neteyam to focus solely on his duties as the perfect warrior and heir. It was all he had ever known, as soon as he was crawling (which of course was months before the average baby because of fucking course he was even advanced as a literal infant). As soon as the light lit up their world, Neteyam would be out - sharpening his knife, tuning his bow, practicing his hand to hand combat - before Lo’ak even rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The poor thing didn’t even have a social life outside of training with the other boys their age. There was no room for him to have any free time, even less to mingle with the young women of their age in their clan. 

It was painfully obvious that the girls of their clan favored Neteyam over his baby brother. The way the girls their age would huddle together, giggling with a hushed voice as the brothers would pass them at first was an ego boost, definitely. It became glaringly obvious that they were casting their love-struck eyes at his older brother, and while disgruntled at first, he could understand. However, his big brother was too busy living up to their father’s expectations to find love, much less a crush.

So, when Lo’ak was sitting next to Tsireya, listening to Roxto explain how to spear fish underwater, he noticed how Neteyam’s amber eyes glanced passed the Metkayina boy and his back straightened up. It wouldn’t have been odd, until Neteyam’s face softened into an expression he didn’t think he’d ever see on his no-nonsense brother. An expression he’d seen on his father whenever their mother would walk into his line of sight.

Love-struck.

With wide eyes, Lo’ak whipped his head to the side, following his brother’s line of vision without shame of being caught. Subtlety was not in his vocabulary and he wasn’t about to start now. The others around them, surprised by his sudden movement, followed suit.

Almost twenty feet away, there was the subject of Neteyam’s distraction. Staring right back at the oldest Sully boy with a bashful smile as she walked with a few of the other girls of her clan.

Yana.

Ao’nung was the first to recover from the shock of the new information, his blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the forest prince. “No fucking way. Not Yana. Pick another girl.”

Tsireya smacked the back of his head, glaring. “Stop using the sky language to curse. And Yana passed her trials. She is older than you, and can decide who she wants.”

Neteyam didn’t bother replying, probably not even listening as his eyes still trailed after the older girl. Bright eyes wandered down her back, hypnotized at how her long spiral curls swayed in time with the swing of her hip. She glanced back to him once more, wiggling her fingers with a wink that nearly sent his heart into cardiac arrest.

Lo’ak snapped him out of it, tugging on his arm band with a teasing glint in his eye. “Really? Tsireya’s older cousin?”

He had to hand it to Neteyam though, he sure knew how to pick a crush. Yana was arguably the most beautiful girl in the clan, second to Tsireya in Lo’ak’s personal opinion. They had met her family last night during the communal celebration. Ironically, it was in celebration to reward the newest members of the clan passing their trials; Yana being one of four. She was now recognized in the clan as an adult - the dark ink of a fresh tribal tattoo wrapping around her shoulder the first indication of her new status. There were many young men in the clan that had showered her in attention last night, but she had stayed close to the Sully family after being introduced by her parents.

Too wrapped up in Tsireya, Lo’ak hadn’t even paid his brother any attention last night. Seeing how love-sick he looked as Yana disappeared from view, he was slightly glad he didn’t witness anything that might’ve corrupted his innocent mind.

Kiri giggled to his side, “You’d better hurry and finish your trials, Neteyam.”

The chuckles around them made the topic of conversation duck his head, hiding the heating of his face by looking at the soft sand beneath them. It was common knowledge that only those who were seen as adults in the clans could pick a mate, and they didn’t need to voice it for him to understand the innuendo.

They poked fun at him for a few minutes until a shadow fell over Ao’nung. “You don’t mind if I steal the mighty warrior for a while, do you, little cousin?”

Yana grinned at the surprised faces of the younger teens, and felt her smile widen at Ao’nung’s pout. Her baby cousin was too protective for his own good. She placed a hand over his damp braids, feeling him relax slightly. “I promise to bring him back before dinner, hm?”

While the others had turned their attention to the newcomer, Lo’ak took this time to examine his brother. How his eyes light up when she first spoke, braids swishing around his head as he turned to give her his undivided attention. The look in his gaze was as if this girl had put the sun in the sky herself. As if no one around him mattered when she was near. The two love-brids made eye contact and Yana held out her hand.

Neteyam didn’t even hesitate to stand, sliding his larger hand into hers so the shorter Na’vi could pull him any which way she desired. Which was apparently somewhere only the two of them were going. They didn’t even bother with a wave goodbye.

As if in sync with each other, Lo’ak and Kiri made identical gagging noises. Neteyam was so whipped, it was downright nauseating.

Tsireya nudged him, laughing at the Sully’s immature reactions before trying to get them all to focus back on task at hand. A soft teal hand on his upper arm was all she needed to get his attention and those dimples made his heart do flips. He felt those sparkling blue eyes take all of his focus, not even bothering to stop himself as he smiled at her.

Maybe he and Neteyam weren’t that different after all.

[brattyprettysub2]

Sugar's Vet Appointment

All characters in this piece of fiction are role-playing adults.

*

Sugar is placed on the exam table on her hands and knees, naked with her tits dangling. She makes a noise that's not quite a moo and Master smacks her jiggly bottom for it. "Behave," he says sharply and she nuzzles him in apology. He knows this is new and that she's scared, but that's no reason for her to forget her training. Baby cows make moomoos and nothing else, even when they're being milked and bred. It took several months of paci gags and penis gags for her to learn.

Sugar doesn't present nicely. She looks awkward, her shoulders hunched, her head down, her hips tucked like she can hide her cow parts from the vet. But she doesn't know any better. He never taught her how to present the way he would his puppies or kitties. The vet doesn't seem to mind, anyway. He knows how to get animals in position. He smacks her inner thighs until she opens her legs wide enough; he grabs her hips and tugs them up, tilting her bottom up towards him, and when she tries to hide again, he pulls her tail hard, making the plug tug on the rim of her hole. She moos loudly, startled, and he laughs and pinches her nipples. Fat drops of milk squeeze out and she moos again, either in pleasure or complaint, it's so hard to tell with fussy cows like Sugar.

Master soothes her with a hand sweeping down her back and she presses into his touch, grateful for it. He hasn't fucked her in a few weeks and she's needy for him. He's kept her well fucked, of course, he's not a neglectful Master, but it's been by his bulls and none of them have been allowed to come inside her. They don't get trained as strictly as his cows, some of them are even allowed speech privileges, but all of them know better than to come inside a cow without explicit permission. Sugar's been getting restless without a daily load in her pussy. She likes it more than any cow he's ever had, always mooing so happily when she's filled, rubbing her plush thighs together happily when she feels come dripping down them. Master's stablehands have reported that she's been more difficult lately, less pliant, more likely to huff and snort and drag her heels when given a command.

The vet squeezes Sugar's tits, checks her blood pressure, presses two gloved fingers into her mouth to check her teeth and gag reflex. The latex squeaks a little against her teeth and she winces at the noise. "Sensitive, isn't she?" the vet says. He hooks two fingers into her cheek and leaves them there while he talks, making her drool around them. "Her tits could be bigger," he says, "but her milk productive is good." With her free hand, he gives one of her nipples a harsh tug and milk splatters onto the exam table beneath her. She whimpers and her nipple gets twisted for it. "There's something wrong with her voice, though," the vet says pointedly, holding her nipple in a tight, painful grip. Her whines her louder and he raises his voice to speak over her. "We've removed the vocal cords of some cows who couldn't learn to moo properly, so if that's an option you want to explore, I'm happy to discuss it."

The whining cuts off abruptly. She looks at Master with tear-filled eyes and gives a weak, watery moo.

"I'll keep that in mind," Master says, smiling at his baby cow. "I still think she can learn, but we'll see if she proves me wrong. She's not very bright, just a stupid little set of holes."

She moos. In agreement, he thinks, because she knows that cows who try to pretend they're intelligent get put in the box -- a literal box that keeps them folded up and cramped, over their ass and pussy sticking out, at the perfect height for anyone walking by to fuck.

The vet finally lets go of Sugar's nipple and moves around behind her. He slaps one of her thighs, then squeezes it tightly and shakes it. "Must be nice to grab onto when you fuck her," he says, and Master grins. Sugar's milky thighs have often been marked by marks of his fingers, gripping on hard and using them for leverage as he thrust inside her. He loves that she bruises so easily and carried his marks around before he even branded her. Now, of course, she's branded, his initials burnt into her thigh. She had *cried* when it happened, so loudly and hysterically that she had been gagged for two weeks straight afterwards, the pacis and plastic cocks having to be connected to tubes of food that she could suckle out. She had been so grateful to go back to solid food, mooing happily and burying her face in her trough.

The vet swipes two fingers through the slick dripping from her pussy. Getting her nipples played with and hurt always makes her cunt drool. "This is very nice," he says. He presses the same two fingers inside her and they go in smoothly. "Squeeze, little cow," he says, and pats her hip approvingly when she does as she's told. "You're thinking of putting a baby in her?" he says.

("I don't want kids," she'd said, months ago, on one of their early dates. "Everyone tells me I'll change my mind, but... I just don't want them. I don't want to be a mom, I don't ever want to be pregnant." She'd looked so pathetically grateful when he squeezed her hand and said he thought it was great that she knew what she wanted.)

"Yeah," Master says, tucking his hands into his pockets and smiling down at his little cow and her big eyes blinking up at him. "Yeah, I think it's about time she gets bred. The bulls and stablehands are going to stop fucking her from today onwards, and when she's ready to beg for a cock and a nice hot load of come, it will be mine." He smiles at the wet slurp when the vet removes his fingers from the tight clutch of Sugar's pussy. The vet reaches for the speculum and Master tucks a stray strand of Sugar's hair behind her ear. "So if you could just remove that pesky little IUD..."

Sugar's eyes grow even wider and she tries to twitch away. But the speculum's inside her, holding her open, and there's nowhere she can go. Her helpless mooing fills the room.

*

Liked this? Reblogs are very appreciated!

Buy my books on Amazon

Buy my books on Smashwords

[princelylove]

My Prince,

If it would be to your liking, would you share your personal intelligence rankings, which you spoke of in the tags of a previous request, to the court?

Thank you, Your Highness.

Intelligence is classified by your ability to apply things you already know and the skills you already have. You can be bright but slow, or a quick thinker but lack experience. There's many things to take into account when talking about intelligence. This may not make sense, as I am a bit loopy from switching meds recently.

Loosely:

Giorno is obviously at the top. I think it's criminal that his intelligence is listed as a B on his stats. Giorno doesn't slack in any of the things I understand intelligence to be, he applies absolutely everything he has and somehow never misses. Giorno spent his entire childhood figuring social etiquette out the hard way, he's hard wired to figure out what to do and not to do as quickly as possible. To Giorno, survival means being the best of the best. Has he always been absolutely perfect? No. Has he always bounced back? Yes.

Trish is fairly young, it's a bit unfair to put her up against grown men. She takes after her father in many ways- one being how clever she is. She may not understand stands yet, or why she couldn't just stay home and never go out again, but she's very quick to adapt. Trish did well in high school, she had a high gpa and did lots of extracurricular activities, which just means that she's a hard worker. Her ability to adapt and her natural curiosity is what leads me to believe that she's on the higher end, it's just that she lacks experience pre canon. Post canon, she's a force to be reckoned with. A Trish that understands how to fully use her stand, how to do what her father did and make someone disappear entirely, and how to manipulate the public so they think her kidnapping victim lovely darling is on tour with her is a very dangerous Trish indeed. If this is strictly pre-canon, bump her down to the middle-lower end.

Some people may not like Guido being in the top three, but I'm fairly firm on it. Guido's a quick thinker and has managed to stay alive for this long. Does he understand things like infections and germs? Not really. Could he, if you explained it to him? Sure. Guido's street smart- he never went to college, but he reads a lot. He's a curious guy! If something interests him, he'll look into it. He's got great instincts and a ridiculous amount of luck, which isn't intelligence, but often will help him figure out what's going on. He checks for Sale's shadow under a truck, he yells at Narancia for not telling him the stove was on and it wasn't safe to fire his revolver. He knows what he's doing, even if it seems like he's just fucking around until something clicks. That's kinda scientific theory, isn't it? Fuck around and find out? Yeah, he gets it.

Pannacotta... the author Her Highness does not believe in IQ tests, as most people who claim to have a high IQ got it off of some online test made to stroke the quiz taker, but I believe Pannacotta is very intelligent. He's just not socially intelligent, which bumps Trish and Guido above him. He left behind his prissy, rich lifestyle in favor of being homeless for a little while before Bruno found him- he's left behind most manners and forgotten most unspoken rules. In this case, Trish and Guido outdo him. What worth does purely academic intelligence have if you cannot apply it, and it has nothing to do with the situation? Pannacotta is intelligent, but he isn't creative enough to apply what he has. Who makes a vaccine on the spot like that?????? If he wasn't so in his head all the time, he'd probably be a lot scarier. I mean, who thinks to put capsules in things you're not supposed to be touching anyway?

I think it's a bit silly to put Bruno so low when he is, in fact, an adult with a fully developed prefrontal cortex. I don't think Bruno is unintelligent at all, he's a man of average intelligence for his age. He's only so low because everyone above him is not average, even if they pretend to be. An older, more mature Pannacotta would have him in too many categories for comfort. Guido has him in reaction time and blind instinct, and while some may argue that isn't intelligence, it's applying what you've got. Bruno can be a little slow at times mentally, but never in combat. He pauses to make decisions that would take Giorno a split second. He makes mistakes that, although he makes up for later on, he still makes in the first place. He's formidable- he has experience and knows how to use it, but he's not very creative.

Narancia's not all there all of the time. It's not fair to say Narancia's stupid because he isn't good at math or academics in general, you can be smart and have weaknesses. But not Narancia. He's a little lacking. He doesn't try to make up for it at all, but he's figured some things out that he definitely shouldn't have before, saving him from dead last. Narancia has some crazy instincts, but he doesn't really know what to do with them. Instincts don't equal intelligence, but it helps. He'll take credit for anything you're willing to blame on him- FUCK yeah he figured out you're trying to escape 'cause you left some shit on the table. (He felt it in his tummy and got anxious that you're leaving him.)

Leone went through some schooling, but he barely passed. You could always argue that he was too depressed to do his work, but I personally don't believe so. Leone's slow and prone to picking the hard way- not because he's a masochist, but because he's been living off of going "Well, one of these is right." for the past three years. He's just happy he finally got a stable job. His instincts are terrible, his reaction time is shit, he has very slow realization in general- the list goes on. Does that mean you're getting off easy? Nope. He's still taller, and stronger. Doesn't take a lot of brains to pin someone, especially when it's muscle memory. Leone can bump himself up over Narancia eventually, but only because Narancia is emotionally stunted. You have him in the emotional maturity (aha. Leone and emotional maturity?) category, and what else? Get a grip. Leone knows how to do more- makeup and cosmetics is a skill, so is media literacy- but Nara's got him in reaction time, realizing that dots do in fact connect, and learning how to put you in your place at a faster rate.

[seitmai]

Ok I couldn't stop thinking about the daggers as dogs since yesterday reading "Was It Over?" Chapter 9 by @ohtobeleah, I now proudly present:

The daggers as dogs

Hangman - German Shepherd

This is als Leah's idea but I can see it so vividly and it makes so much more sense reading into them. They are intelligent, loyal and energetic. But they are also confident and alert, which comes in handy with their protective instincts. Also what can I say, I think Jake in dog form would look like a German Shepherd. That's it.

Rooster - Siberian Husky

Those dogs are independent, active and playful but also fucking stubborn. They can be little drama queens (gn) with the howling and whining because they need attention. A perfect fit for Bradley, the man with the sunglasses on, inside a bar.

Phoenix - Dalmatian

I think Dalmatians are beautiful with a special form of grace. They can be reserved or even a little aggressive with strangers but are also known for smiling, when they are with their humans. What can I say, that's Phoenix to me. Due to being a woman in the Navy she has to keep her guard up, especially around people she doesn't know. Once she gets to know someone, her bright character and smile can be seen regularly.

Coyote - Doberman Pinscher

First of all I don't know what Javy's skincare is, but it must be good because he is glowing. And I get the same feeling seen a Doberman Pinscher. They are also good-natured, intelligent, active and super loyal. So loyal that they are sometimes considered "velcro dogs". Which makes sense in my eyes, seeing him and Jake as besties together.

Payback - Bernese Mountain Dog

That man is a family man in my head, and a bernese mountain dog is the family dog. They are patient, social and especially good with children. Don't tell me all of this doesn't absolutely sound like Reuben? If you disagree, you are wrong. I don't make the rules.

Fanboy - Beagle

I literally googled "startrek dog" and there was a Beagle lol. But then I read about it and wow it fits! They are adaptable, curious and loving. As if it wouldn’t fit already perfectly, they also have a natural desire to please. What can I say, Mickey in my head has a praise kink so that tracks.

BOB - Great Dane

Ahh yes, the gentle giant under the dogs. They are shy and reserved but will be devoted, friendly and affectioned to their loved ones. So basically, Bob in dogform, I rest my case your honor.

My credentials are: I love dogs and have unrestricted internet access lol

[clarajohnson]

magicians s1e3

you can never forget that this show premiered in 2015 the needle drops are not subtle

the women in this show are too compelling every time two of them interact i'm like yes i could see that. marina/julia makes perfect sense to me.

i think a lot of my questions are going to be answered by things i've forgotten that will come up soon but before that happens i wonder why quentin's undetermined. the cynical part of me says it's because he's too emotionally fucked up. because when i think of quentin coldwater as a character he seems so obviously like a minor mender!

the amount of sugar alice pours in her coffee. the way she demonstrates her phosphoramancy by disappearing her hand. that's my goddamn wife.

did you ever burn ants as a kid? no, that's horrifying. WIFE.

qualice makes sense i'm not going to turn it down but when eliot hands him a drink with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth i can't believe quentin doesn't just. you know. roll over.

poor season one margo and her depraved outfits.

did quentin coldwater (who is very much alive actually) go to the eras tour?

i think julia exemplifies something i love about this show, which is that nobody's penned into one personality type. she's brilliant but she's also cool. alice is introverted and bright but incredibly strong.

the way eliot drags quentin away... boyfriends from day one

i forgot that's why charlie niffined out ohhh that's so interesting for alice. also a very cool concept, it's so in line with the show's ethos (which i'm not interested in unpacking rn i'll just say No) about having too much of a good thing. everybody always has to deny themselves and do the right thing. protocol, austerity.

bookfucking. love wins :-)

whew i remember totally hating q in the fight with julia. i don't love it this time either! even knowing how badly julia's gonna get fucked by this i'm like ah yeah she's right. IS IT IN YOUR SOUL? IS IT LIKE THE SECRET HEART OF WHAT YOU ALWAYS WERE?

penny in that fucking scarf hood combo. nightmare man darling boy

the look quentin gives kady for sitting between him and eliot.......

pleaseeeeee alice getting something worse than her brother's death, having to be the one to effectively kill him, always picking between the people she loves and the intelligence, the pursuit of knowledge intrinsic to her personhood, it's so fucking sad and i love her so much

margo is obviously, overtly flirting with alice i see no other way to interpret their interactions

i think i'm willing to say this episode is where the show gets good

[txemrn]

Like Ships in the Night

Prologue: We Finally Got It All Right

Welcome to my new anthology series Like Ships in the Night! I am so fortunate to have some amazing readers that enjoy this sweet pairing, and have expressed interest in seeing how fate tried bringing them back together during their 15 years apart. And you know what? I want to see that, too! So... here it is, and I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I enjoyed dreaming about it and creating it! Each story can be read as a one-shot (unless noted), and--I'm so excited about this part--you are going to see some of canon woven into this. And in true Emily-fashion, it's not going to follow a specific time-line, but you will be able to follow along.

For those of you who are new to Tatum Erikson: this is the infamous "Hopkins Girl"... and in my AU, she and Ethan find their way back to each other.

🔞This collection of stories is intended for mature audiences only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 years of age or older. TW for chapters will be included with each part. 🔞

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson-Ramsey)

Series Music Inspo: "Ships in the Night" by Mat Kearney

Chapter Music Inspo: "I Choose You" by Sara Bareilles

Chapter Summary: On the night of their wedding, Tatum begins to reflect about her relationship with Ethan... and about all of the missed opportunities that they had with one another.

Word Count: ~3400

Warnings: NSFW/smut 🍋; language

A/N: Some of these characters/plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Huge thank you to my girl @charlotteg234 for helping me choreograph my smut, and to my girl @ao719 for looking over said smut! lol Love you both! Not truly beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Would you call me crazy if I told you I believe in cheesy romance stories? You know the type: the kind where the rich CEO’s car breaks down in a small town, where he meets the shy, yet beautiful local pastry chef with a failing bakery? He inevitably screws things up, but he proves his love by performing a grand gesture–in this case, buying out her bakery to give it back to her. Or how about the age-old story where a woman meets a stranger in a bar, spends a hot night of passion with him, only to find out in the morning that he is her new boss?  Or he’s the son of her boss? Or he’s the crown prince of some made-up country in the Mediterranean? 

Now, before you roll your eyes at me, I know what you’re thinking. Stuff like that doesn’t actually happen in real life. Men don’t go out of their way to make fools of themselves for love. Love has its limits, and the sensation of being ‘swept off your feet’ is nothing more than a trigger of chemicals in your body, supported by the greeting card companies and flower shops.  And let me tell you: I totally agree with you.

Until it happened to me.

When I was twenty-three, I fell in love with the most intelligent, fearless, most handsome man I had ever met in my life. He was strong, yet sensitive; he was quiet, but hilarious.  He was such a colossal pain in my ass. And I absolutely loved him for it. For over three years, our relationship was thrilling, breath-taking, all-consuming and wild. It was the kind of love that inspires love songs and poetry, a love that makes you believe in soulmates and wishing on stars and happily ever afters.  We had no idea what the hell we were doing, which made it so incredibly perfect. He was so incredibly perfect.

Then, I single-handedly fucked it up. Everything that was good in my life, I threw it all away in a single moment. And that incredibly perfect man… I broke him. And the worst part? I changed him. Because of me, he learned to be cold and hard; he learned to be closed off, to protect himself from getting hurt ever again. He lost that spontaneous bright light in his eyes. And love?  He stopped believing in it.   

But, I’ll let you in on a little secret: the story of Ethan Ramsey and Tatum Erikson doesn’t stop there.  It should’ve. My God, it should’ve, but fate had a different ending for us.

“Tate?”

His voice. It still rings like a melody to me, especially with my name dancing on his lips. Well, that and judging from his mumble, his keys must be in his mouth.  His hands are full with a late dinner, and no doubt, Jenner is making it nearly impossible for him to sneak through the door with his excitement.

I give the navy velvet sky one more glance as I turn to walk back inside from our balcony. Pulling the curtains shut, I watch Ethan set the table before lighting a few tapered candles between our plates. He then promptly unpacks the brown paper bags of our greasy, late-night fast food dinner.

Recinching the white satin belt of my short, lace-trimmed robe startles him into a double-take.  “There you are,” he beams brightly at me; he offers a guilty smile as he claps his hands. “Nothing was open at 1:30 in the morning except…” he sighs, “the golden arches.”

Raising a playful eyebrow, I saunter closer to him, closing the gap between us. As I wrap my arms around his thick, swole musculature, his taut, strong arms envelop my own body. He pulls me closer, pressing me lovingly into the flat planes of his chest.

“Mmmm…" I nuzzle into him, "it’s perfect. My husband did good,” I steal a fry.

He smirks before kissing my forehead. He looks at his watch. “It’s been–” he clicks his tongue, “--nine hours? I really hope I haven’t messed this marriage-thing up too badly just yet. Although, I’m not so sure that feeding my wife McDonald’s on her wedding night is being a good husband.”

"I think you're doing a damn good job on keeping her satiated, Mr. Ramsey," I giggle under my breath. 

The man truly is a god. His glorious tongue and nimble fingers permeated secret parts of me during our quaint wedding reception earlier, making us swiftly take our exit during the main course.  Even now after spending four breathless hours making love, I look up into those possessive crystal eyes, and my arousal instantly awakens. God, I need him.

Ethan tilts his head lower towards me, his breath warm on the shell of my ear. “Every touch from you, Mrs. Ramsey, leaves my begging… for … more," he nips at my earlobe, punctuating his words.  The sudden sting ignites a fury of goosebumps across my skin.

And suddenly, I can't let go of him. Feeling the heat of his body against my own intoxicates me like a fine vintage wine. This man, this honorable and selfless man: he is my beloved, my husband, my forever. My soul literally craves just to be in his presence; my being thirsts to be held steadfast in the oasis of his heart. I want to dive deep and succumb to his currents; the height of his love I will never, ever be able to fathom. 

And to think: he chose me. Again.

The silky fabric of my robe slips off my shoulder. Ethan's large hand brushes across my exposed freckled skin, admiring my decollete as if he was experiencing it for the first time. His breath shutters against my chest, his desire hardening against my belly. His mouth presses to my exposed skin as he marks me as his own. The pull from his pout is heavenly; he burrows his face into my neck, his arms hugging me tightly.

I tenderly rake my fingers through his espresso waves, massaging the back of his neck.

"My wife…" he silently breathes against me like a fervent prayer. His hands find the loose knot of my belt, pulling the tie undone with his thumb. The material flounces open, his fingers roaming across my bare curves.

His lips find mine, a slow fire kindling between them. His tongue flirts inside my mouth, swirling languidly around the tip of mine. 

My knees buckle with the abrupt throbbing between my legs, but his arms brace me. We both warmly snicker before I peer up at the gorgeous, chiseled lines of his face. His dark stare is so attentive, so captivated with me; I can feel my heart pirouette in my chest. 

I want him–God, I fucking need him in the most feral of ways. Now. I am his lamb, his sacrifice. I need him to strip me, ravage me, break me, consume me. 

"I thought you were hungry," he growls, tracing my jaw with the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes flutter against my skin; even my toes curl to the command of their gentle tickle. 

My breath quickens, the rise and fall of my chest pressing into his firm body. "I thought you were," my voice softly rattles, painfully aware of his tightly constricted appetite in his sweatpants.

He rolls his tongue across his bottom lip as he tucks a finger under the material resting on my other shoulder. With a careful flick,  the satin glides down my arm, drifting into a delicate cascade until it ripples on the floor around my ankles.

"I am," he cups my cheek, painting his thumb across my own pout. He then drags his knuckles down my exposed body: down my chin and neck, between my breasts and around my navel. He takes a knee, his mouth replacing his hand. He trails sweet kisses down my abdomen before tenderly caressing my sex. I hum as he gazes back up at me, his eyes dark with want. "I am very–" I gasp as he pushes his fingers into my core, "--very hungry." Pulling back out, he lifts his hand to his mouth. He moans in pleasure, his tongue eagerly lapping up my sweet desire.

As he sensually sucks on the tips of his fingers, I greedily steal his hand, bringing it back to my own lips. With a mischievous grin on my face, I kiss his palm before dragging it down to my pert breast. I guide his hand into massaging me slowly, his secure grip finding and teasing my nipples. Losing myself in the vast wilderness of his longing stare, he renders me speechless; the anticipation leaves me breathless. God, just put your mouth on me already...

I drag my teeth across my lips, watching my new husband shiver, unraveling on his knees. Combing my nails behind his ear, he shifts his gaze back to me, and I whisper. 

“Take me.”

Hastily finding the bottom curve of my ass, he takes hold of me, pulling me closer to himself. His hands wander smoothly up my thighs, discovering my wet slit. He tenderly traces my folds, and a sudden ache for more courses through my legs 

His finger grazes over my plumping clit, once… then twice before he circles around again… and then back the other direction. My foot coyly turns inward as my knee curls to shield my throbbing apex from his welcoming intrusion.

“Uh-uh,” he scolds me. He slips my leg out from under me, instantly finding its way over his broad shoulder. I brace myself on the back of a chair as he strums my swollen button. 

My knees quiver with reckless electricity; my body trembles with raw nerves.  My lower belly warms with excitement, euphoria building deep within me. I begin to rub against his hand.

“Ethan,” I gasp, “please baby–”

He stops. As he flicks his eyes to me with that irresistible smirk, he must’ve seen the look of betrayal written all over my face.

“Ethan?”

But before I can get my words out, he scoops me up bridal-style, hurrying me into our bedroom.  He throws me like a ragdoll onto the plush bed before ripping off his undershirt.  I sit up on my knees, my fingers reaching for his waistband. As I lunge closer to take what I want, he grabs my wrists. He crawls on top of me pinning me down, my hands helplessly over my head. 

He kisses into my whimpers, his teeth nipping at my swollen lips. “Such an eager girl,” he snickers, biting my lip again until he gently licks into my mouth. 

Ethan traces his tongue down my body, circling around my nipple before pulling it into his mouth.  Fuck, it hurts so good. One of my hands has traveled to the back of his head, encouraging his rapacious mouth into my sensitive skin. But, he possessively steals my hand from his neck, restraining it useless above my head.

“Stay,” the corner of his mouth turns up as he pants, “you stay right here until you finish for me." He playfully tugs on my other nipple with his teeth before stealing another glimpse of me. "And you will finish on me.” 

His demanding claim on me as well as his overpowering strength sends a chilling ache through my body. My need for him grows fervent, restless, completely starved.  I am his hostage, and only he holds the key to my release, to my pleasure. He is my undoing.

He slips down my body, spreading my legs apart for him. I quake as he spreads apart my lips, and all at once, his tongue drinks me deeply. My back arches against the mattress, as he swirls around my most sensitive area.

My breath becomes ragged as my hips thrust off of the bed. Hoarse mewls escape my mouth as my head thrashes back and forth across the pillow.

Without warning, he glides two thick fingers into my channel, stealing the very breath from my lungs.  Finding the perfect spot inside, he strokes deeply, smoothly, my toes curling with the change of sensation.  

I am overwhelmed; each stroke builds on the last, the intensity obliterating my mind. Is this pleasure? Is this pain? I can’t–I can’t take anymore.

That is until Ethan takes his other hand, firmly pressing it down on my lower belly. The electricity of my desire erupts into a million stars, dancing in my own galaxy. 

And then he slides in another finger.

My mouth drops open into earth-shattering silence as I pump my hips uncontrollably into his hand. My body trembles, hurdling me towards an orgasm. It’s terrifying, and thrilling, and absolutely emotional. I can barely breathe anymore, my inhales catching in my chest as my body cries out. 

But suddenly, as my climax overcomes me, throwing me off the edge to complete ruin, Ethan stops. He grips my ass and swiftly, flips us both over. Finding myself on my knees, my husband’s head is between my thighs, his lips a breath away from my wet pussy.

"Ride me, baby."

He pulls my hips down, the sudden jerk causing me to grab the wooden headboard. His stubble tickles my sensitive skin as my nerves reignite with pleasure. My body melts into him, his mouth instantly finding my deep ache. He blows gently across my throbbing clit before wrapping his mouth around it, giving it a nip with his teeth.

"Ethan!"

A stun of electricity courses through my veins.  A deep burn contracts in my belly as groans of ecstasy escape my throat; my eyes prick with tears of euphoric joy as he strokes me through another orgasm.  My whimpers fill our room as I uncontrollably pulse and constrict around his tongue and fingers. My thighs quiver as I grind my quaking pussy across his hungry mouth.

My knuckles blanch to white as I grip the headboard; glistening with sweat, my body grows limp, begging for rest, begging for oxygen, begging to collapse from my husband’s predatory gleaning of my body… now his body.  

But, he holds me fast and close, his hands gripping firmly to the swells of my ass as he continues to feast on my ravaged center. He tenderly nuzzles me open, his tongue consuming every last drop of my pleasure.

He crawls out from under me, quickly climbing onto his knees to kneel behind my body. His arms snake around my abdomen as he pulls me back into his lap. And I collapse against his chest, my hands finding the tops of his before tangling our fingers together.

Relishing his touch, Ethan presses his lips into my jaw, along my neck, coming to rest on my shoulder. He tightens his hold on me as his mouth finds the shell of my ear, my body lax against his. 

And then I giggle. His soft whispers of the most lovely, the most hidden of secrets saved just for us drip like honey from his lips, his sweet words seducing me in the most intimate of ways.

Turning my head to meet his gaze, our lips brush against one another as we finally relax into each other's arms, laying down against the swirl of sheets and stacks of pillows. Finding a comfortable silence, I can feel his pulse bounding in time with mine as we share the air around us. He mindlessly traces shapes with the tips of his fingers across my hips. His ankles intertwine with mine, and somehow, something so mundane feels so possessive, so intimate. I could drown in this moment, knowing my last breath was him claiming me as his own.

"How?" I sigh, not realizing the actual word escaped from my mind.

"Hrmm?" He rasps, readjusting his hold on my body against his.

I titter in embarrassment. "This. I just can't believe… we're here…"

He nuzzles his nose against my neck. "Just you and me." He takes my hands, gently interlocking our fingers together as he brings it up to his mouth for a kiss.

A thought crosses my mind. And I sit up, leaning myself against the plethora of pillows against the headboard.  Grabbing a sheet to cover myself, I look down at my husband, a pensive grin quirking on my mouth. "Do you–" I sigh, shaking my head. "Nevermind."

Ethan sits himself up next to me, playfully knocking his shoulder into me. "Do I what?" 

"It's silly."

He smirks. "Like that's ever stopped you?"

I swat his arm before wrapping my hand around his bicep, laying my head against his shoulder. "Do you believe... in fate?"

He rolls his head towards me, giving me that look, like I just asked him the most idiotic question on the planet.

"What?" I teasingly pout. 

He raises his eyebrows. "Do you really want to know my answer?" 

No. I chuckle to myself; I know better. I have always appreciated Ethan's ability to remain level-headed. He's a realist, a believer in physical matter. Everything can or will be explained by science. For the most part, I agree with him. Afterall, I am a scientist, too. 

And maybe he's right; the rekindling of our relationship was a complete coincidence. But still… after all of the missed meetings and stolen glances from afar… after all of these years, why now?

He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. "Tell me. What do you think?"

"Whether or not you believe in fate?"

"No," he rolls his eyes, grinning wide. His deep chuckle reverberates through his body, warming mine. He pulls me gently into his chest. "Tell me, baby," he softly croons. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what's got you thinking about–" he waves his hand in the air as if he's presenting a magical word on a rainbow. "--destiny."

"Not when you say it like that," I pinch his belly.

"Okay, okay!" He flinches, snickering before cradling me closer. "I'm sorry. I'll be serious." I give Ethan a questioning glare until he holds up three fingers. "Doctor's honor."

I giggle as I mindlessly begin to play with his fingers in silence.  I finally sigh because I officially sound like a lunatic, and surely, this beautiful man is about to go get our marriage annulled. "I don't know," I breathe him in deeply, my fingertips grazing through the hair on his chest. "I feel like… now looking back on us, we had so many missed opportunities… divine interventions… I don't know," I snicker at myself because I don't just sound insane; I am insane.

That is until Ethan takes my hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I'm listening."

"What if we were always meant to find each other? Like… God, I don't know." I turn around to face him leaned against the wall of pillows. "Imagine we're heading to work on the T, but we keep missing the stop… and yet, we still end up where we're supposed to go, even if we have to catch another line or hail a cab."

Ethan gives me a skeptical look. "Okay, so… you believe you and I had missed opportunities to be together–"

"I don't know if I believe it… but somehow calling those missed connections, those times that we almost crossed paths again…" I bite my bottom lip, shaking my head. "Rams, how could they just be coincidences?"

Ethan couldn't take his eyes off me; I could tell he was perplexed with what I was insinuating by the way he chewed the inside of his mouth. We fell into a quietness, my question left unanswered. 

I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Maybe I was being hyper-emotional with it being our wedding day and all the talk of love everlasting.

After spending a few moments studying my face, Ethan tenderly takes my foot, pushing back the sheet to expose it completely. He lays it on the firm planes of his abdomen as he begins to gently knead his thumbs and knuckles into my arches.

"Coincidences, hrm?" He exhales heavily. "Or fate?" He shakes his head with uncertainty as he strokes each one of my toes. "Tell me a coincidence. One of our coincidences."

Feeling myself melt into his touch, I look down at my wedding band, twirling it around my finger. Taking a deep breath, I lick my lips and begin.

"Do you remember the time…?"

~🖤~

Tags (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed)

PERMA

@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL OPH

@alyshak92 @annfg8 @bisexualdisasteracd @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @lsvdw-blog @mvalentine @ofmischiefandmedicine @rookiemartin @starrystarrytrouble @youlookappropriate

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like , comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Liberation: Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

synopsis: "arrangements" are commonplace in your world, even though they're despised. and when you find yourself selected for one, will you be able to endure the cost? or will there be a breaking point? (for you, arranged marriage anon!)

wc: 939

tw: smut

masterlist 🏛 next part

(might turn this into a series, so this will be the series song, idk)

The feeling of cold metal between your legs makes you flinch, and you hear the man below you whisper, "She looks fine."

"You think?" You glance at your mother as she presses a hand to her stomach. "Good enough to be--"

"Healthy. Y/n is perfectly healthy and eligible for the selection." You lace your hands together, and your mother exhales deeply.

"Good, good."

As you dress, you hear your mother talking in hushed tones to your father, her voice carrying a little in the sterile room. "The doctor says she's perfect for the selection... Yes, of course, I'm going to file the paperwork as soon as possible; it's... right. I'll make sure to let her know. Okay. Talk to you later."

You slip your shirt over your chest, rolling it down around your waist as your mother walks past the curtain, her eyes bright in the fluorescent lighting. "Your father is excited, y/n. This could be your chance to finally become someone of status!"

"You mean it could be your chance," you mutter, looking at her. "I don't want to do this."

"It's your duty," your mother quips, suddenly serious. Her usually jovial expression turns dark, and you lower your eyes, trying to hold your tongue. "And you'll do it. You'll be happy to do it. Grateful, even." The curtain to the dressing area falls closed. The only thing you hear is the retreating footsteps of your mother in a cold, empty doctor's office. But you know the nightmare is far from over.

"'Selected' is just a fancy term the colonies use for slavery," your friend, Yuzuha Shiba, hisses. "There's nothing selected on our end. We're expected to spread our legs for high-ranking officers and make babies. What's selective about that?"

"At least it's just one," you mumble, picking at the grass between your toes. "I don't know what I'd do if they made me do... it with multiple men."

"And we're being picked from a stack of faces!" Yuzuha adds. "These men get to sift through a bunch of women's faces and names, nothing more. You don't even get to give a quote."

"Do you think they'd pick us based on the most intelligent quote?" you laugh, and Yuzuha shakes her head, smirking.

"Mine would be 'fuck you.'" You both laugh heartily, but then an uncomfortable silence settles over you. A stream rushes in the background, and your eyes glance at a bird hiding in the trees before looking back at your light-haired friend.

"You're lucky Taiju forbade you from being a part of it," you muse, throwing blades of grass at the wind. "You must feel good about it."

"Hardly," she scoffs. "I get to watch all of my friends go off and get impregnated by a guy they can't see until after they get pregnant. And then... who knows if it'll be a happy marriage or not?" The wind whistles in your ears, and you rest your head on your arms. "Do you think you'll fall for whoever picks you?"

"I doubt it..."

"At least you don't have to look at him during sex," Yuzuha mutters, standing up and looking at her hand-me-down watch. "If he's ugly, I would be grateful for that small mercy alone." You say your goodbyes after

As you find your way back to your home, you find yourself resenting the very system that demanded "arrangements." It feels like you're just another cog in an outdated machine. You concede that it was necessary to back then - when the colonies were new, and there weren't enough people to make a population powerful. But now that isn't a problem anymore. So why keep such a traditional system in modern times?

You skip dinner, holing up in your room as some form of protest. But as you stare at the moon rising in the sky, all you can think about is what he would look like. If you're selected - and you're more than likely going to be - who would pick you?

Your eyes drift closed as you imagine the man's cruel face, slanting brows, and sick grin. Only sick men enjoy doing things like that, taking young women and using them for breeding purposes. Not for love.

Your dreams are laced with moans and whimpers you're sure to hear when you arrive to be claimed by your selector. Faces morph in the darkness as your clothes come off, falling to the marble floor. Hands roam up to your shoulders, and the man begins you pulls you close, his erection pressing against your backside.

You struggle to get away, but it's dark in the room, and there's no way out. Each kiss feels like steel against your skin and makes you shudder. "Please," you beg, but the man wraps his arms around your stomach and lifts your leg up. "Please," you repeat, voice shaking.

"Just a little more," the man murmurs, and all of a sudden, you feel a pressure between your legs that is borderline uncomfortable. "Just a little more." You don't feel anything for a brief moment, and you exhale shakily. But fingers come back to your cunt and swipe at it with what feels like a gel, and you yelp as something enters you.

"That's it," the man grunts. "Just like that, y/n." You turn to look at your captor and note the fearsome ice-blue eyes before anything else. You inhale deeply to scream in terror, but you shoot up in bed, sweat pooling on your sheets before you can open your mouth.

You want to be certain it was a dream, so you check your nightgown - which is dry - and the flooring - wooden. Nothing in the dream seemed to translate over to the other side. You uneasily climb back into bed, steadying your breath before trying to sleep again. But the ice-blue eyes don't ever go away. They are burned into the backs of your eyelids all night.

A/N: Please let me know if you want more of this! I'll be happy to write a series (small or long, whatever) with this new premise. Hope you all enjoyed this! Proud of writing this and not fully conked out on sleeping meds yet. Huzzzah!

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously....

I got a wind here... I'm not really sure what's going on, but hopefully it'll sitck around for a while. lol

***

Chapter 6

Willas loved Oberyn, very much so.

They’d met very young, since affluent families tended to stick together in a way. Martells and Tyrells were just like that; their parents pushing them to get involved with the ‘right’ type of people.

They became actual friends some years later, once they were in middle school. Oberyn was already a hellion and Willas liked being with someone who didn’t expect him to be perfect.

As they both came from old money, there were expectations all around them. However, they both dealt with them differently. Willas accepted and embraced the responsibilities of being the eldest son of the Tyrells. Oberyn was the second son and could hardly give a fuck about reputation.

That wasn’t to say that Oberyn was irresponsible, because nothing could be further from the truth. He just didn’t feel the need to act the way the ‘polite society’ around them expected him to act. Oberyn wasn’t the type to hide what he felt or wanted, and Willas had always admired that in him. 

Once they got into University together, Willas felt freer to try things he’d never tried before. And at first, those things weren’t even that daring -miss a class, go out partying in the middle of the week.

The first time he kissed a man, it was one of Oberyn’s friends. It had been interesting to find out he was attracted to men, but he also figured out he wasn’t attracted to that man in particular -even though he was really handsome.

So Oberyn asked Willas if he wanted to try kissing him. Willas wasn’t sure why he said ‘yes’, but he did.

They had a kind-of relationship for a bit over two years. Oberyn was the one who assured him that it wouldn’t change their friendship, even if Willas wanted to stop everything. So they’d be together, kiss, fuck, cuddle, and then sometimes Willas would want to date someone else seriously, or Oberyn would skip town with a model, or a dancer or a photographer…

Most of their friends couldn’t understand how this worked so well for them, but it did. Willas didn’t feel entitled to Oberyn’s time and attention, he didn’t need him to be monogamous or faithfull, because that wasn’t what their relationship was about. They were friends and they occasionaly -or not so occasionaly -liked to fuck.

It worked for them.

Until the accident.

The point was… Willas loved Oberyn (not like a brother, because that’d be weird), and he knew the other man loved him too. It didn’t make him any less fucking furious.

Oberyn had no right to get Sansa Stark involved in this mess. She was young, bright and intelligent, and she deserved much better. She was also obviously the kind of girl that one dated, introduced to one’s family, held her hand…

She wasn’t made for illicit love affairs with two degenerates.

“Lord, help me, Willas.” Oberyn groaned dramatically. “Why are you acting like such a fucking martyr? Degenerates? Illicit affair?”

Willas glared at his friend. “Then what is this? A relationship? Should we visit Ned Stark and introduce ourselves?”

Oberyn snorted. “No, I’m scared of him.” He rolled his eyes when he saw Willas’ face. “Willas, stop acting like you’re throwing a virgin over your shoulder and carrying her to a tower.”

He was not acting dramatically.

Fine. Perhaps he was.

But! He was only doing that because of Oberyn. He didn’t believe -for a fucking second -that the other man wasn’t planning something. Oberyn had accepted a long time ago that Willas was a different person now. He’d never pressured Willas into rekindling their affair, and it seemed like he even understood why Willas broke it off completely.

He didn’t normally get involved in Willas’ love life, so this was something else. Oberyn was up to something.

“You know what I think?”

Willas scoffed. “Please, tell me.”

“I think you’re more bothered by the fact you do want this.” Oberyn threw at him.

“Oh please.”

“You like Sansa, you’re attracted to her, but you’re rather comfortable doing nothing about it.” Oberyn pressed. “And now I did something, and if she comes to us, you’ll be out of excuses.”

Willas glared at his friend. “I will throw my cane at you, Oberyn.”

Oberyn’s phone started ringing. “Hold that thought, love.” He winked at Willas, before pulling the phone out. He didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyway. “Yes?” He opened a huge smile. “Sansa darling.”

Willas’ glare became even more intense.

Oberyn just smirked at him. “Of course I can talk to you now. It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?” Silence as she replied. Oberyn chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about you too.” He paused to listen, then laughed again. “Oh, you didn’t mean it like that?” He teased her. “I did.”

Willas rolled his eyes and once again considered throwing his cane at his (former) friend.

“Willas?” Oberyn was looking at him. “I’ve talked to him about it. I know you’re concerned about him, love.”

Now Willas was frowning. Concerned about him? Why?

“I told you he finds you beautiful.” Oberyn was saying. “I’m not pressuring him or anything. I’d never.” He threw a wink at his friend. “Oh.” He became silent again, this time his eyes getting brighter and brighter. “Really? That’s a lovely idea, Sansa. Yes, we can discuss things during dinner.”

Finally hitting the limit of his patience, Willas shook his hands to get Oberyn’s attention and demand answers.

“I’ll discuss the best place to meet with Willas, right?” Oberyn ignored him. “We’ll have dinner, and talk, and maybe just that. Or maybe we’ll get you properly kissed.” He laughed again. “I’ll let you know when and where, okay? Take care, love. Bye.”

Oberyn was unbearably smug when he looked back at Willas. “She wants to meet and discuss things. She wants to know how it’d work and what we’d expect from each other.”

Willas pressed his lips together.

“She’s concerned about whether you’re really interested.” Oberyn pressed. “She doesn’t want to pressure you. Should I tell her I’ll meet her alone?”

“No.” Willas hissed. “Tell Sansa we’ll have dinner at my place.”

***

Sansa had agonized for way too long over lingerie for this dinner. She didn’t expect anything to happen that night -and wasn’t sure if she even wanted anything to happen so soon -but at the same time…

Margaery had once said to her that some things just have the power to make you feel more confident; like a new lipstick, those killer heels, and even sexy underwear that no one knew you were even wearing.

Sansa did need to feel a bit more confident, so she considered her sexiest lingerie set -Agent Provocateur, bought while she dated Harry and never used.

She’d seen their website and this was quite tame compared to some of the things there, but she loved the color and she felt sexy wearing it. It was exactly what she needed.

So she put on her sexy lingerie, a nice dress, nice heels and went to Willas’ house.

Oberyn had said it was the best place to meet, since they could talk freely and not worry about people overhearing them. He also made it quite clear that it didn’t mean anything other than that. They were not bringing her to Willas’ apartment waiting for something to happen.

She believed Oberyn.

Well, she believed him on that, because she still wasn’t so sure about Willas and his desire to be part of this.

She also wasn’t so sure if she wanted to be part of all of this, but she spent three weeks thinking about it, and she finally realized she needed to talk to them before coming to some sort of decision.

Yes, the idea was exciting and titillating. Yes, they were attractive and -hopefully -knew what they were doing. But Sansa wasn’t the girl who had one-night stands. She wasn’t daring and adventurous or even sexy, really…

She needed to know. She needed to ask her questions and see where it led her. She didn’t want to regret this.

Although then, knocking on Willas’ door, she felt like she just might regret it anyway.

“Sansa.” Willas smiled at her when he opened the door. “You look absolutely lovely.”

Oh… Maybe she wouldn’t regret this after all.

[mattydemise]

09:40. November 2nd, 2022.

This past weekend was insanity. Worked my ass off and went out almost every night. I’m happy. Life is good. The cafe is near empty at the moment and John Lennon’s ‘Jealous Guy’ just started playing on the work playlist. I don’t think they’ve changed it from when I put this on a couple of nights ago. Springsteen, into Lennon, and what’s next? I’m hoping for some Stones. Begging for some Stones. Need my fix of Mick and Keith. You know the music’s good when you don’t bother to put in your AirPods. ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’ by Bob Dylan. Pretty good but he’s no Rolling Stone, or maybe he is? “How does it feel, how does it feel? To be without a home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone”. Spent all of Monday night talking to a beautiful woman. Intelligent. Emotionally intelligent. Beautiful. We spoke of stuffed animals and as we spoke it was honest and flowed like water. She looked into my eyes and I looked into hers. A vital bright blue. She touched my hand and picked one up to examine my tattoos. I felt a gentleness in her, a sense of calm. My own internals are more tumultuous. I am not good for people, at least not right now. I have this bitterness that I need to work out of my body and it isn’t something that can be fucked or sucked out. It isn’t something that a soft, tender hand can quell. It’s deeper than that and I’ve lived enough life to know when I’m not going to be good for someone. For all my understanding and sensitivities, for all the art in me, for all the good and light that does exist in me, I’m not without my darker shades, the soft and pale greys, the charcoals, and the obsidian blacks. Leonard Cohen’s on now. This is much more more my speed. Cohen was a poetic genius. A truth teller, a sooth sayer, a man who had gazed into those very same blacks in his own soul and brought them out like putrid oil from a deep, dark fracture in the earth. The soft hand of a beautiful woman is always a port in the storm but the storm rages ever on and I must remind myself that, “We hurt others in the same way we’ve been hurt”. I was cheated on in high school and later in life I inflicted that same ugly wound upon another and although skin never met skin, my heart belonged to another at the time, and emotionally cheating is still cheating. Some would argue that it’s even worse because the body is given easily whereas the heart is a much more delicate muscle and not so easily accessed. I think for me it was a one-time deal, I had one piece of me, and only one, to give, and I gave it away, and if I was given the opportunity to do it differently, I wouldn't, because everyone deserves to feel genuine love, and I’m lucky to have been in its warm embrace for such a long time. I do not regret. I savoured every drop in a way I’ve never done before. Every kiss a tattoo, every fuck etched into the granite of my memory. Curves, lines, freckles, a birthmark, everything captured in such perfection. Memories that are clean and pure. And so I’ll leave you all with this contrast: Our lives are such a fucking tangle, such a mess, how do we make any sense of anything at all?

[skyfucker]

Last Line Meme

tagged by @ragnarlothcat. Can't believe I pulled you off as a mutual ^^

Post the last line(s) you wrote on whichever project you’re working on! 

I'll put two extracts here.

One.

So he got up from where he was hiding in the darkness, where he was supposed to sit and enjoy his drink while he made sure Anakin got home safe, thinking that he outsmarted his old Master once again. Anakin going out at night in secret was fine; the boy only looked around for useful droid parts, watched illegal pod races in shady places, and just walked around a lot, looking and enjoying. It was fine, all fine. But Anakin letting a dirty old man touch him like that was not fine. Would never be fine.

For some reason.

Some reason that Obi-Wan was choosing to ignore and therefore should go fuck itself.

Anakin shot up to his feet, whipped his head around just in time to see Obi-Wan grab the bastard by the collar and throw him onto the floor with as much force he could muster without breaking something of his, even though he very much desired to do so.

“Master,” Anakin’s pretty mouth fell open and Obi-Wan, for just a moment, was tempted to shove his cock into it. Let everyone watch how much Anakin wanted his cock, loved to have his mouth full.

Those were the fantasies of his Padawan, weren’t they? Anakin, unknowingly, or knowingly — the little devil — had been torturing him with vivid and lewd thoughts for ages. 

Anakin’s eyes were bright and he was pushing and pushing at Obi-Wan in the Force, demanding, greedily clawing his way in, because his Padawan was now suspicious. Suspicious that his old, dirty, perverted Master wanted to fuck him back.

Two.

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, changing tactics. What if Anakin was there? Frustrated beyond belief at being locked in a small and fury body, unable to speak, unable to wield a lightsaber, unable to sit back and relax now that he had some time off. “You did a good job; The High Witch is not charmed that easily, and she had requested you personally.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed and pushed the mug just a bit further.

“We can go to the archives,” He slowly walked towards Anakin but stopped when Anakin pushed the mug again. This was Anakin. Of course it was Anakin. No creature was this intelligent and insolent. “I’ll do everything I can to figure out how to turn you back. I promise. Of course we’ll figure it out. You’ll be back in your body in a jiffy. I… eh,” He scratched nis nape, feeling foolish, “I apologize for insulting you. Now that I’m taking a good look, you’re actually… cute.”

Anakin lifted his chin — In defiance? To show Obi-Wan who was the boss here? Who knew — and put his paw down. He sat tall and straight, picture perfect.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan smiled. The shiny jewel dangling from the collar on Anakin winked at him. “Little shit,” he mumbled to himself.

Anakin’s ear twitched but he didn’t move. His tail, on the other hand, sent Obi-Wan’s mug flying onto the floor with a swift swish.

“Anakin!” The situation was so ridiculous that Obi-Wan didn’t even think to use the Force to save his mug. Must be all the dead brain cells, they had been dying off in rapid speed for a decade now, after all. “Don’t get down just yet, okay?” Obi-Wan went into the kitchen, carefully avoiding the broken pieces, and activated the cleaning droid, who immediately sensed the shattered pieces of his mug and got to work. Busy day for him.

As the droid worked — Tudy, Anakin had named him — Obi-Wan stood glaring at the cat that was supposed to be his once Padawan, who glared back, his fluffy tail flicking from left to right, as if sweeping some dust off the counter.

Tagging @temple-mistress @maiaspen @intermundia

and @himboskywalker

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

11, 15, 19

11. Dream contestants for the future?

I did one of those back in June, after they announced the season 14 contestants, so those are my top five names who have not yet done the show, but for this I'll pick five more. Five people I have not mentioned before on a dream contestant list but would love to see on Taskmaster:

David O'Doherty - Has the exact right attitude for the show. Can be competitive, can do ironic posturing, but can also be a very good sport about everything and just great fun in general. Can play keyboards, and if they had him on I'm sure they'd give him at least a couple of excuses to incorporate that. Can, as I recently went on about in a few posts, play sports. Might be a dark horse to win, with ability to do musical/creative tasks, and would likely be decent at physical tasks, and is quite good at intelligently thinking things through. At some point during that paragraph, I realize I've stopped writing why he should be on the show and just pretending he's already been cast and planning what my related blog posts would be.

Also, he'd be everyone's favourite. In case he is ever cast, I'm saying this now so I can have evidence that I called it in advance. He'd be the Mike Wozniak, the John Kearns, the Ardal O’Hanlon. The guy I never see talked about here, but give him two episodes and my dashboard on this site would be full of DO'D gifs and drawings, and it'll be great.

Huge Davies - His persona of someone who is sort of very odd and deadpan and lives in a slightly different world is just close enough to being a "persona of a real person" instead of a straight-up character, so I think it's something he could mostly keep up for ten episodes, and that would make for very good Taskmaster. But every once in a while he'd have to break it, and I'd really enjoy that too. Also, more keyboards.

Chris Addison - As I've said before, I want Chris Addison on Taskmaster just because I want his tactics of announcing he'd be terrible at it and falsely implying he's already been booked to be the strategy that works for getting on there. But also, he'd be great. His energy is a wonderful combination of bright and enthusiastic in style while going fucking dark in content, and that would bring the perfect atmosphere to the house and the studio. No episode could have a lull with Chris Addison in the room. Also he's brilliant, in the sense of being really intelligent. I'm predicting creative task solutions and observations that other people miss, in the imaginary future of Chris Addison on Taskmaster.

Josie Long - She's the original Taskmaster champion and should really be on there just for that. Or I think Wozniak was the very first one, but still, she was champion of the original iteration. She lights up any show she's on, just like Chris Addison, and would similarly not allow a lull in the studio. A perfectionist who I think would throw herself into the challenge of getting every single thing right on every task, which I'd enjoy watching so much.

Susan Calman - I think she's argue with everyone about everything, and I like watching that. Has been in the game long enough to not be intimidated by Greg. Would get mad about everything but also be lovely at times. All the energy you want on Taskmaster.

15. Any unpopular opinions?

Lots. Here's one: I really like Iain Stirling on there now. When I first watched season 8, I found him as annoying as everyone else did, even though the competitive ones are normally my favourites. Since then, I've heard him on the podcast, and seen him on enough other shows where he's more relaxed, so I understand what he was going for on Taskmaster and generally what the hell he was doing. And with that context, I enjoy him way more. These days when I re-watch bits of season 8, I think Iain Stirling and his weird insecurity and desperation is one of the most fun parts.

19. When did you discover the show?

Early March 2020. I specify early because I've said before that Taskmaster is what I did with the pandemic, but I actually got into it about a week before things started shutting down here, back when the corona virus was a distant and terrifying force, but not one we really think would change our lives. I happened to see a reference to a show with an interesting premise, I looked it up, found it was all on YouTube. Saw it was British, and thought, oh that's cool, I say I like British comedy because I grew up on things like Monty Python and Blackadder and Yes Minister and Goon Show and Beyond the Fringe and Alan Bennett's voice and Mr. Bean and whatever else my dad had around, and I know that The Thick of It is the greatest piece of media ever produced. But other than listening to The News Quiz or Now Show every week, it hasn't occurred to me to wonder if British comedy might have continued to exist after the turn of the millennium (aside from The Thick of It, the greatest piece of media ever produced). That's an interesting idea, British comedy but like, what they're doing now. I'll see what this is.

Started watching s01e01, though it was weird but sort of interesting and that's the guy from The Inbetweeners (oh yeah, there were a few other exceptions to my not having seen any more recent Britcom, for some reason I watched all of The Inbetweeners in my early 20s), playing basically the same guy, so okay, that's cool. I guess I'll watch the whole episode.

Then Romesh Ranganathan threw the watermelon on the floor and I was done. Fell apart laughing, needed to pause the video while I tried to get it together, immediately texted the link to my father to say I'm going to pay you back for all the British comedy you've given me with this (since then, I have paid him back many more times over with much more of this shit). That was the moment I was 100% hooked, was not interested in doing anything else for the rest of my life except watch this show. And then, by coincidence, the world ended about a week later so I happened to have a lot of free time for that.

I watched the first nine seasons very quickly, and then decided I wanted more of all those people so I looked up everything else they'd done, and now I'm here.

[coldabest]

I'm bored, so I'm gonna talk about Nina, because Nina, and Nina, just Nina.

Headcanons, my universe if you will.

Nina Hopkins, Nina the killer, Nina's the best...anyway, headcanon time!!!

- She was a top student at her school, she is highly intelligent, but can easily be emotionally vunerable.

- Nina has dated a few guys in her life, and hated all of them. One guy is called Brent, another Justin, and the last is West...like the direction...no, they aren't all bad, she just hates them for very specific reasons.

- Closeted Bisexual queen 💕💖💝🫶💞

- I'm not gonna stress this enough...Latina headcanon >>

- She's that kind of person that could easily just speak the languages she knows like everyone else, but she actually has taken classes to perfect all of them because she can.

- She hates her weird Harry Potter phase, and her 2014 Justin Bieber phase.

- If you mention Nina's Justin Bieber phase, she will walk to her room in shame. However, if you mention the Harry Potter phase, she'll start making up hella excuses as to why it didn't exist.

- She is a DC kind of girl, but only for that sweet ship of two powerful bisexual women being badasses...yes, I'm referring to Harlivy.

- She's slowly ascending past the idea of Jeff, because she's been watching every single piece of Harley Quinn related media recently, and now she's trying to be more obsessed with fiction than an ignorant guy.

- Her and RN (Revamped Nina, her twin in this because I love both of them) like to watch fucked up documentaries at any time of the day. Liu is usually the one to watch them with RN, but Nina has joined more recently.

- She finds EJ hella weird for existing, mainly because he acts very demonic in this universe.

- Nobody can top her friendship with Jane the killer.

- Her favorite childhood shows/movies/series were Curious George, SpongeBob, Addams Family, and Nightmare on Elm Street...idk why I put that last one.

- Her skin has slowly started coming back from the entire bright white skin shit she formed during her extreme obsession over Jeff, and she's trying to fix anything she did to look like him, not fixing her beautiful blue eyes of course. 💕

- She has dyed and cut her hair a lot tryna figure out what she wants, and eventually settled for regular black hair with a beautiful pinkish purple inside like one of those satisfying hair transformations you find on the internet. I have to find it and show you guys, it's cool asf.

- Her and RN were and still are friends with Jane, which also connects to their friendship with Liu and Jeff, though they all have lower expectations of Jeff as of the present.

- She has a pet Parrot for shits and giggles, a pet Ferret because she can, and a pet Black Panther for emotional support and as an animal bestie. Yes, Slender somehow allows this in my universe...he doesn't favorite her, but she is up there on the list enough for him to trust her decision. The parrot is Olive, the Ferret is Slinky, and the Black Panther is Alexander.

- She hates the unwanted living disgusting, sexual representation of one I do not wish to name, but I think you can understand at least one character I'm referring to.

- She dislikes Jeff, and Sully.

- She's neutral with EJ, and Zalgo.

- She likes Liu, Slenderman, Trenderman, Splendorman, and Sally.

- She loves RN, Jane, and her pets.

- She is a great chef, but hated cooking, baking, and grilling after one accident where Jeff pour gasoline on the grill because someone put it in the barbecue sauce container...that was EJ...or Eyeless Jack. She now has massive trust issues.

I'll stop typing for now, but that's like half my list I think.