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#on account of his hourglass figure
sreppub · 1 year
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tall damian and misc jasons
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tonixe · 1 year
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#n.o.t.e.s `` Happy New Year, let's start this year off with a bang \\
# w.a.r.n `` Non-con/dub-con, overstimulating, creampie, squirting..., p in the v, penetration, Breeding kink...fingering...cunnilingus
#p.a.i.r.i.n.g `` homelander x fem!reader
#w.c. `` 2.3k
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"John," Madelyn spoke out, calling him into her office. She was sitting by her desk, filled with homelander plushies placed on the bookshelves room. As Homelander entered the office, his hands folded behind his back, "You called for me?" he said.
"Well, since your packed schedule and my care for you, you would need an assistant, especially with everything you're doing being American superheroes," Madelyn spoke, placing her chin on her prop-up hand.
"I don't need a babysitter, Madelyn." he shut her down immediately at the thought of it.
"Well, John is not a babysitter if you act like it is," she said as she got up from her chair and walked towards the known superhero in her office.
She kept spoking on, as the homelander kept his eye contact with her, not speaking as she started rubbing her hands on his bicep, "...But you know I would never think that you ever need one, but please at least do it for me, ....John" she gave him a reassuring smile.
"..Besides, she's gonna be here soon; it would let you down if you did have a tantrum now.." Madelyn sat down at her desk.
Homelander's eyebrows twitched as the passive remark that Madelyn said, "I do not throw tantrums-"
"Please, John, not right, no-" she was soon cut off by the sound of knocking
"Just in time, you can come in!" she yelled.
The door opened to attractive looking women wearing long sleeved white shirt with a brown tie enveloped on her body, adorned with extended brown pants accentuating her hourglass figure.
"Hello," you spoke to the two visible adults in the room, giving off a sweet smile to both of them as you held your Ipad in your hand.
"Well, Homelander, this will be your new assistant, Y/N L/N; she'll be charged with your scheduling and social media," Madelyn signed off and turned to the agitated blonde man.
"Im so lucky to work with the one and only Homelander" you smiled at him.
It makes it better since I'm being helped by a beaut like yourself" he gave off his signature smile, the one you'll usually see on TV or when he's on camera.
"Since you guys have already met each other, I think Y/N you can go; I just need to talk to Homelander some more," Madelyn said, crossing her legs.
You nodded your head as you stepped out of the office. As you closed the door, "I'm surprised you didn't hire someone. How do I say ugly." Homelander crossed his arms.
"Why would you think that John" Madelyn place her hands on her prompt on the palm of her wrist.
"Jealously, maybe," as he gave Madelyn a little smile.
"Why would I ever be jealous of another random woman, John" the blonde had a slight agitation in her voice."
"Sure" John ended the conversation and walked out of the office, dismissing Madelyn.
John came out of the office to see you outside the office pressing on your iPad. "Hi, boss," you piqued out.
"Oh, Hi Y/N!" he gives you a smile.
"Oh yea, I was planning to update your account, you know to advertise your movie coming up," you tilted your head, smiling as you pressed the iPad on your chest, pushing your chest up.
"That sounds great," he said as his eyes flick between you and your chest.
"I really appreciate that Homelander!" you gave him one of your sweet smiles; at that moment, Homelander didn't know, but inside his tiny heart, that was a hurtful pang from inside, especially when you gave him that smile. It felt like he actually felt something, looking at your face.
"Uh..yea," his face felt warm, maybe even hot. The first time he started stuttering over his words.
"Anything wrong?"
"No.."
"If you need me, I'll be in my office" you gave him another smile as you walked as he looked at you walking down the hallway, plainly looking at your ass.
As you walked down the hallway to your office, you were busy on your iPad, planning for your plans on PR work for Homelander's brand. You pushed strands of your hair over your ear. You heard an opening door into your office, and a familiar redhead came into the office, "Oh, hi, Ashley." you said to her.
"Hey Y/N, I just want to congrats you on the promotion," she said, as she sat down on one of the chairs vertical to the desk. "Thanks!"
"Oh, I also got you some coffee while I was on the break," she placed it on your desk.
"Thank you again, yeah, it's really something I wouldn't have thought Madelyn would do that, you know." you scratch the nape of your neck, "I totally get it" Ashley took a sip of her coffee.
"Oh yea, also Ashle-" you went soon cut off.
'DING' Ashley's ringtone went off, alerting her of some emails and text messages she didn't get, "Oh Shit, sorry, I can't really talk right now, but I'll come by your office, Sorry Y/N."
"It's okay" soon, Ashley started to scramble out of your office, "Alone again," you muttered.
You went back to working on a draft of your project, hoping for some success in making Homelander's brand since the Stormfront, Nazi shit happened. It was a coincidence that Madelyn would hire Homelander as an assistant; it was the most challenging time of his fucking career. You knew Madelyn was out to get you, fucking hag.
As you gave yourself a sight, unbeknownst to you, someone was watching you through your office.
5 hours later
You were a little bit tired, and you yawned. Your phone alarm went off, it was currently 8:30 pm, you looked outside of the window, it was dark since it was through the winter months.
As you turned off your Ipad and put it in the case, put it inside your bag. You wore your black jacket as you wrapped your scarf and hat.
Opening the door, turning off the lights, and walking down the hallway to the elevator shaft, you were texting Ashley on your phone.
"Ah-" you accidentally bumped into someone and you were slowly falling; you didn't feel the hard ground; opening your eyes to Homelander, his hands were wrapped around your waist.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," you apologized profusely.
"It's okay," Homelander said; you couldn't hide your red face away from time as he gave you a cheeky smile. You backed away from him as you grab your thing from the floor, as you fixed your jacket.
"Your going home?" Homelander said, "Yeah" you responded.
"I'm just a little tired; you brushed your hair back," you said, "Bye" it was a little awkward after what happened just now; you just immediately ran to the elevator, pressing the buttons down.
As soon as the elevator doors open, you go in. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better and less awkward than today; the last thing you see the door closed is the brief sight of the American flag.
3 months later
You walked into the Vought building, holding your bag as you walked to the elevator. Heel clanked down on the marble flooring, flipping your hair back as you waited for the elevator coming down.
Becoming Homelander's assistant was improving, the elevator door opening as you stepped into the elevator. Fixing up our outfit, as you pressed the elevator panel to the 99th floor, soon the doors closed as you felt the elevator going up.
You took out your phone, looking at emails and some messages from Ashley and some of your co-workers. Scrolling through it most of it, you really didn't care about that.
'DING' the elevator door opened up, and you walked down the hallway, walking to your office; you grabbed your key, unlocked the door, and to a Homelander in your office, sitting in your office chair.
"Good morning, Y/N," the supe said, standing up from your chair and walking to you as you closed the door and put your coat onto the coat hanger.
"Good morning Homelander-" you responded to him, as you flipped your hair back.
"If I could ask, how did you enter here? It was locked from the outside-"
"Doesn't matter," Homelander cut you off; he was now standing right at you. He put his hands on your shoulder as he smoothed them out, "You know, Y/N, you are such a good assistant; maybe the better coming from me would be impressive,"
Everything in your body was screaming as you looked around your office, as you put your hands on your face, covering it up from the blonde supe. "Homelander, uh, what are you doing" as you took his hand off your shoulders, backing up to the wall.
He cups your face as your eye looks intensely inside your e/c eyes, "Y/N...you know," Homelander gives a little chuckle to himself, then turns to look at you.
"You have always been in my mind, every single day, that something from me," he spoke; You were afraid, couldn't really move at all, maybe made yourself feel a little bit dirty, as your legs felt wetter, rubbing them as he kept talking. The fear made you feel a bit of pleasure.
As he places his hand beside your head on the wall, as you look down, turning your head to the side. He brings his mouth to your ear, whispering into your ear, "Your wet," as he removes his head from your ear.
Slipping his finger through your skirt to your panties, his fingers shortly played with your clit, his fingers sinking into your folds, lewd sounds coming from your mouth as you tried to covering your mouth. "You like that, don't you" he whispers into your ear before he makes brief eye contact with you.
"Nn-gah" you whine, bitting your lip.
He starts kissing your neck slowly down to your collarbone, as you felt his beady sky blue eyes on your body. His finger curling up into your pussy, you threw your head back, whining.
You felt dirty that you doing it, inside your office with American's golden boy, especially with being his assistant. You felt heat pooled to your lower abdomen, your face felt hot. Homelander's fingers going in faster into you, as your moans got louder and languid.
"That's right, don't hide your moans" He spoke out to you, as you squeeze your thighs between his arms, moaning out loudly to him. Your orgasm came into you, as you moan out loudly.
Your juices coming down from your legs, making a pool on your floor. Homelander took out his finger, as it was covered with your love juices. Your panting echoing the room, as he forced your fingers into your mouth, as you pressed down your mouth on to his finger, sucking them eagerly. The taste of you coating your whole mouth, you kept eye contact with your e/c eyes with his sky-blue eyes. As Homelander hoisted your waist up quickly slamming you onto your office desk.
He ripped your blouse with your f/c brassiere, and your boobs bounced as he pulled it. You turn your head away from him and bite your finger down, making yourself seductively. Your nipples hardened into the cool air. He started marking your chest. While he took off your skirts and panties. He dragged down his pants, revealing his red throbbing cock, the tip of his cock covered with precum. "Maybe I should make you my bitch, just for me to breed and have my children."
Grabbing your legs and laying them down on the side of his neck, you gripped his forearm tightly as he entered you, adjusting to his size.
As you roll your hips desperately for some friction, "P-lease.." you whispered, biting your lips. You looked utterly pathetic; your tights ripped, your blouse ripped into pieces, and your skirt was ripped, as your panties were probably with Homelander.
"You know, you look really pathetic right now," Homelander asserted to you, "..you should use your words, sweetheart," he cups your cheeks, "Come on, use your words, baby," he wooed.
"..P-please f-fuck me, make me your-" your glassy eyes looked at him, and as you held him before you could even continue, he plunged into you. Your boobs bounce up as he thrusts into you.
Your moans were chopped up as he rapidly rammed into you like a rabid rabbit; as he trusted up, you felt he was kissing up to your cervix. "Aah..N-ngh" whining out.
As you felt your orgasm coming,
"Fuck" he thrusted into faster as you felt some bruising up onto your pelvis; you felt him throbbing inside of you. Your eyes briefly saw white as liquid rushed out of you. Rutting homelander rutted inside you, feeling yourself seeing white. He kept jackhammering into your pussy, feeling bruising on your pelvis.
Your panting and moans are heard outside. "Fuck-"
As he thrust into you a few more times before rutting, feeling his hot liquid filling your womb. Panting can be heard throughout the office
"Not bad," Homelander said through his panting as he tucked his penis inside his boxer and pants, leaving you dripping covered in sweat, cum, bruises, and your ripped clothing. "Maybe, you can be used for something else, like my work bitch, ya definitely that." You didn't say anything, prompting yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he was getting dressed.
"Meet at my penthouse at 10" Homelander looked at you as he fixed his pant.
"Wear something sexy, too" he tilted his head at you, giving you one of his charming smiles, making you wetter. You watched him exiting your office.
"Damn it," you slam your head softly onto your desk, putting your hands on your face.
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thepoison-thecure · 1 year
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its also important to note that this isnt just about isolated accounts. this isn’t just that every now and then a terf or a transmisogynist worms their way into an otherwise 100% trans inclusive space. transmisogyny is present in this fandom space in other, sometimes less overt ways, even spread by people who are vocally supportive of trans people. performing digital facial feminisation surgery on images of gerard in dresses to make him more palatable and shoehorn him into cishet beauty standards is rooted in transmisogyny. going to ridiculous lengths to make any use of a they pronoun by a public figure close to them “about the band”, even when it makes no contextual or grammatical sense, is rooted in transmisogyny. tearing down trans people who dare to talk about their interpretations and identification with the themes and lyrics explored in MCRs discography through a trans lens, is rooted in transmisogyny. drawings of gerard that give them a perfect hourglass and shave their jawline down and remove any sign that they have ever been through a testosterone based puberty, are rooted in transmisogyny. jokes about gerards gender nonconformity being a bit about a sassy man in a dress, are HEAVILY rooted in transmisogyny. claims that his gender nonconformity and publicly stated pronouns are for clout or money or “““queerbaiting””” or a kink are deeply fucking rooted in transmisogyny. mcr fandom spaces are often vocally pro-trans, and are full of a lot of trans and queer people, but that doesn’t mean that transmisogyny isn’t still informing the kinds of jokes and art and images and memes and discourse that is shared around. as long as we still live in a society steeped in transmisogyny, this will keep coming up over and over again, and transmisogynists and terfs see this as approval and as validation of their bigotry. its on all of us to be mindful, to consciously and continuously deconstruct transmisogyny and to stand with trans women. 
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bratshaws · 9 months
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through the hourglass 181. brb x oc
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a/n: are you guys enjoying the fic? please let me know, i really hope you guys are(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!! they make my nights they really do<3)
pairing: plus size!oc x rooster
warnings: sLIGHT ANGST
goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)
chapter
1/
116/117/118/119/120/121/122/123/124/125/126/127/128/129/130/131/132/133/134/135/136/137/138/139/140/141/142/143/144/145/146/147
/148/149/150/151/152/153/154/155/156/157/158/159/160/161/162/163/164/165/166/167/168/169/170/171/172/173/174/175/176/177/178/179/180
(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )
taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix
@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls
@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2
@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12
@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989
-
He has to remember to breathe as soon as he leaps out of the fighter jet and calm himself down. The atmosphere was odd, after all they succeeded but they almost lost two of the younger pilots because of their own stubbornness. Rooster was already looking at them, they were far from the others, Raptor was pacing and Jaws had his mouth downturned but neither of them looked up at any of the pilots.
“McAllister.”
“Yes,sir?’
“Do me a favor.” he says, “Tell me again what happened before they did that stupid thing. You saw it on the radar.”
Rooster's request is born out of a desire to fully understand the sequence of events leading up to Jaws and Raptor's reckless behavior. He knows that reviewing the details can provide valuable insights into what went wrong and help prevent similar incidents in the future. 
And so he could figure out how to punish them.
McAllister takes a deep breath, his voice steady as he begins to recount what he observed on the radar. "Yes, sir. Before they veered off course, I noticed a blip on the radar. It was the anti-aircraft weapon, appearing on our screen and targeting our position. It was at that moment that Jaws and Raptor made the decision to change course.”
Rooster nods, his expression serious. "And it wasn’t to avoid the weapon,right?"
"No, sir," McAllister replies. "They didn't transmit any information or warnings to the rest of us. It seemed like they acted on their own without considering the potential consequences."
Rooster's frustration resurfaces as he listens to McAllister's account. It becomes clear that Jaws and Raptor's actions were not only reckless but also lacked communication and coordination with the rest of the team. This lack of cohesion jeopardized the safety of the entire Stalker team. 
If he hadn’t acted up quickly, he doesn’t even want to think.
His head and heart feel so heavy because for a second he could see Beatrice and their family showing up behind his eyelids. Like one last reminds, the last things he’d see before everything was gone. He was angry because of what they did, the risk, everything was eating him alive.
He takes a moment to collect his thoughts before addressing McAllister again. "Thank you, McAllister. I appreciate that." he sees Maverick walking closer, sending a look towards the two before meeting Rooster’s eyes, “You are free to go now,McAllister. Good job.”
“Thank you sir!” the younger pilot salutes him, then Maverick, before walking away in a hurry. The new recruits were ignoring the two, mostly because the other pilots told them to. That it was going to be resolved soon.
Maverick whistled low, looking at Rooster, “I hear something bad happened back there.” his nephew groans in annoyance, ‘Care to tell me?”
Rooster takes a deep breath, then laughs quietly as he tucks his helmet between his elbow and his ribcage, “You were right.” he begins, “About them…fuck,Mav, Jaws and Raptor made a dangerous and reckless decision during the mission," Rooster starts, his voice tinged with frustration. "They veered off course without any warning or coordination with the rest of the team, putting themselves and the entire Stalker team at risk."
Maverick's eyebrows furrow, his expression shifting to a mix of concern and curiosity. "What led them to make such a decision?"
Rooster sighs, his frustration evident in his voice. "Because they wanted to be heroes by themselves. They just ignored me, they ignored my orders…and Mav, me and McAllister had to save their asses by shooting the cannon, head on,I almost-” and he stops, swallows and clenches his eyes, “...I am angry.”
Maverick's gaze narrows as he absorbs the information, crossing his arms while his face is still looking at Rooster. "That was a serious breach of protocol and a disregard for the safety of the entire team," he remarks sternly. “That was the stupidest shit I’ve ever seen anyone do. And I’ve seen a lot of stupid shit.”
Rooster nods in agreement. "I know, Mav. Their actions could have cost us dearly. We managed to neutralize the anti-aircraft weapon, but it could have ended very differently."
"We need to address this immediately, Rooster. It's not just about their reckless behavior. We can't have individuals acting on their own without considering the impact on the entire squadron or even so, the entire base for that matter. You know the domino effect this creates"
Rooster’s brown eyes were digging daggers at the two who were still scrunched into the corner, trying to hide themselves from any and everyone, ashamed, but he could swear Jaws had a little smirk on his face, ‘...I know. I need to talk to them.” and not kill them, albeit he wants to, “Now is a great time. I’ll just put this away.”
“Go ahead, try to not massacre them too much.”
“No promises.” he is a bit lighter from that talk with Mav but not enough. In fact his stomach is just hot with anger, because they almost lost people because of that. He nods and smiles to the other squad members, pats the young recruits and as he walks past the two his smile drops immediately.
“Sir.”
“I want you two in my office.” he says in passing, walking towards the lockers. He stops by the door when they don’t move, looking at each other with confusion and Rooster flicks his gaze between them, “Now.” he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t scream, but they’d be pretty stupid to ignore that command. He watches as they shuffle away like two kids who got scolded and shakes his head, opening the locker to shove his helmet inside…and then his body feels like jello.
Now that he’s on the ground, safe and with his heartbeat slowing, he tried to hold back the panic, the tears that dared to slip out. He almost lost everything, for a brief second he thought it’d be over, that him and McAllister were done for and he felt like…he doesn’t even know what to feel.
He holds onto the locket with his knuckles turning white and his teeth clenched as his eyes open to stare at his wedding band. It was still there, he was still there, but he needed more. He wanted to talk to Beatrice but he couldn’t elaborate on why he was so nervous
Rooster takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself before he pushes away from the locker, closing it slowly and putting on a neutral face as he turned away. As soon as he walked out, everyone’s eyes are on him, his friends just stare because they knew what was going to happen while the young recruits have a guessing. 
He’s furious but he is a professional. And he is the leader, he has something to do and he had to do it right.
He knows they are inside the office because he hears the scuffle of their soles against the floor, he stays outside for a few seconds, keeping in mind what he had to say…and then he enters. 
The two young pilots immediately look up at him, standing to their feet before he even orders them do so - which is ironic considering what happened -, their expressions a mix of apprehensive. Rooster looks at them sternly, his anger simmering beneath the surface but restrained for now. 
"Sit down," Rooster commands, pointing to the chairs in front of his desk as he pushes the door shut. They obey without a word, their eyes cast down. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, rubbing the bridge of his nose before walking around his desk and sitting down. He stays there in silence for a bit, his hands locked in front of his mouth, knowing that he needs to approach this situation the best way he could.
"I won't mince words," Rooster begins, his voice firm. "Your actions during the mission were reckless and dangerous. You disobeyed direct orders, ignored the safety protocols, and endangered not only yourselves but the entire team." hs jaw moves angrily “...and i want to know why.”
Jaws and Raptor exchange glances, but they remain quiet with Raptor appearing more and more terrified. Rooster continues, his tone unwavering. "Tell me…why. Now."
Rooster's voice cuts through the air, it’s so sharp he was sure they both flinched. He leans forward, his eyes fixed on Jaws and Raptor, waiting for their response, spreading his fingers in a ‘well?’ manner. The room remains silent for a few tense moments before Raptor finally speaks up, his voice hesitant.
"We...we thought we could handle it, sir," Jaws stammers. "We saw an opportunity to take out the anti-aircraft weapon and...and we wanted to prove ourselves, to show that we could be heroes."
Rooster's eyes narrow, pure disappointment flashing across his face. "Heroes?" he repeats, his tone laced with sarcasm. "You thought risking the lives of the entire team, including yourselves, was the path to heroism?"
Jaws, who has been mostly quiet, chimes in, his voice trembling. "We didn't think it through, sir. We got caught up in the moment, thinking we could make a difference."
Rooster leans back in his chair, his expression still stern. "I—” he inhales, rubbing his eyes, “You're both young, and I understand the desire to prove yourselves. But this is not the way to do it," he says firmly. "Heroism is not about reckless actions and disregarding orders. Which you two did. You two completely ignored me, do you know how bad that is?”
Rooster's frustration becomes palpable as he listens to Jaws and Raptor's explanations. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check, but it seeps into his voice nonetheless. 
"Heroism is earned through discipline, teamwork, and making the right decisions in high-pressure situations," Rooster asserts, his tone firm and unwavering. "What you two did was not heroic. It was foolish and it was dangerous. By disregarding my orders and the established safety protocols, you put everyone at risk. You put yourselves at risk. And for what? To prove a point?"
His disappointment hangs heavy in the air as he continues, not letting them speak back at him "When you chose to act independently, you not only almost jeopardized the mission but also undermined the trust we have as a team, not to mention almost hurt some of the other pilots. I trusted you to follow orders and prioritize the safety of everyone involved. That trust has been shattered."
Rooster's gaze shifts between Jaws and Raptor, his voice filled with a mix of sternness and genuine concern. "I need to know that you both understand the gravity of your actions. The consequences could have been devastating. Lives could have been lost."
Jaws and Raptor both nod, their expressions showing finally some actual regret. Jaws takes a deep breath, his voice earnest. "Sir, we understand now. We messed up. We didn't think about the consequences, and we're truly sorry."
Rooster's jaw tenses, his frustration still evident. "Sorry is not enough," he scoffs. "Sorry doesn't undo the potential damage that could have been caused. You will face the consequences of your actions, both professionally and personally." that does make the two of them look up in horror.
“But sir!”
“We didn’t mean to-”
Rooster holds them up by lifting a hand, ‘What’s done is done.You made a choice, and you will have to face the consequences. This is not a matter of intentions. Intentions do not absolve you of the responsibility for your actions. You two aren’t children."
He takes a moment to let his words sink in, his voice resolute. "As the leader of this squad, it is my duty to ensure the safety and effectiveness of our operations. Your actions directly undermined that. I cannot and will not tolerate such disregard for the chain of command and the safety protocols we have in place."
Jaws and Raptor sit there, their expressions a mix of guilt and fear, eyes wide open. Rooster continues, his voice still firm. " You will face disciplinary measures, and you will undergo retraining to ensure that this type of behavior is not repeated. I’ll write everything in the report."
“But…but what will happen to us?” Raptor sounds close to crying. “W-What will we do?”
"What will happen to you will depend on the outcome of the disciplinary process," Rooster explains, interlacing his hands in front of him, on top of the desk. " I cannot determine the exact consequences at this moment, but I can assure you that they will be…dealt with accordingly."
Neither of them are happy with that, but what did they expect? They can’t do stuff like that and think it’d be okay in the end. He inhales again, pulling out some papers and clicking on his pen, ‘Dismissed.”
“Sir,if I may–” Jaws interrupts but Rooster is done right now.
“No, you may not.” he points the pen to the door, “Dismissed.”
Jaws and Raptor look to each other one more time, with the female sniffling and trying her best not to cry, while Jaws just stands silently, following her outside of Rooster’s office, closing the door behind them. Rooster waist, pen hovering above the paper, until he no longer could hear their footsteps close by. 
He lets the pen drop on the desk, roll away until it touches the edge of a file and holds his head in his hands, “Jesus Christ.” he mutters to himself, “...reports be damned.” he immediately opens his drawer, where his phone was locked and fully charged, “I need to talk to Bea…what time is it there now?” he questions himself as he turns the phone on, “...around eight? Maybe? I should message her to make sure she’s awake.’
Roos (14:00)
Hey,gorgeous. Are you up? And if you are…do you feel like video chatting? I kinda miss you a lot right now.
He notices the time with his eyes going wide, “It’s that late already? Fuck,” if those two– he stops the line of thought, licking his lips while shaking his head with a bitter smile, “I won’t bother myself with that right now.” and thankfully, his wife was a mind reader, because she immediately replies.
Bea (14:02)
Hey Roos. It’s a bit late but I am making myself some hot cocoa because I lost sleep and I don’t mind video chatting at all! :) 
Roos (14:03)
I'm glad you're awake, babe. I really need to see your face right now. 
Bea (14:05)
Of course, Roos. Just give me a minute to get settled. I'm here for you, always.
His smile only widens as he holds his head up with a hand, his heart a mix of anxious and filled with love because of her. He almost lost…everything, that was the second time something like that happened but the very first being caused by someone on his side. He waits until the call happens, holding the phone close to his face until her own eyes appear on the screen, “There she is.” he says, “Where are you right now?”
She smiles as she sits down on a chair, moving the camera around a bit, ‘I’m in the twins’ bedroom.” there are sketches of marine life all over the walls, with just a few of them being painted on, “I was finishing it up a bit.”
“Is that why you aren’t asleep?”
“...well…kind of.” she laughs, ‘I woke up a few hours ago,I don’t know if you can hear but it’s raining a lot right now.” as if on cue, thunder rumbled above and she squeaked, turning the phone back to her face, blinking at him, ‘You heard that,right?”
Rooster chuckles softly at Bea's reaction to the thunder. He's grateful for this brief moment of lightheartedness amidst the weight of his current situation. 
"Yeah, I heard it," he replies with a smile, leaning back in his chair. "I miss those rainy nights with you. It feels like a lifetime ago."
Bea nods, her expression softening. "I miss them too, Roos. I wish we could be together right now."
Rooster's gaze meets her own and he sighs, licking his lips, “How’s Nikki? And the twins?”
“They are all fine, Nikki just, sleeps through everything as you know…and the twins are fine and…I’m enjoying my time away from the bar right now.” she smiles sweetly, shrugging as she finished her sentence, “You know, doing my things, distracting myself the best way I can.” she moves the phone a bit, propping it on something, probably a box so she could show him the growing tummy, “See? Here they are.”
And Rooster stares in silence,holding his head up, eyes locked on her body. She was beautiful and she looked amazing…and he wanted to imprint that in his mind, he wanted to. God he had to. He is covering his mouth because he’s so scared he’ll end up crying on this call…and he knows she doesn’t need that worry in her brain.
“See?”  she runs her hand on the swell of her stomach, giggling softly “They are just as active as Nikki, they’ve been moving a lot and–Roos?”
“Hm?”
“...are you okay?”
Was he? No. He wasn’t. Rooster inhales shakily, then clears his throat, this time he propped the phone up with a paper weight, leaning back on his chair to interlace his fingers behind his neck ,”...I’m not, honestly.” he laughs bitterly “I…I can’t elaborate on that,gorgeous. The mission is still going after all.”
“...well…you can share what you can, you know that.” she smiles “I’m all ears.”
Rooster looks into Bea's eyes through the screen, his heart heavy with the weight of his recent experience. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, breathing shakily before speaking.
"I appreciate that, Bea," he says, "It's just... something happened on the mission. Something I can't fully talk about yet. It was... difficult.”
“Did…anyone get hurt?”
Almost. “No.” he shakes his head negatively, “No one did.”
“That’s good though,I’m glad you are all okay!”
“Yeah,well…it was just…some of the new recruits messed up.” badly “And it was bad…like really bad.” but he promised himself to not elaborate on that at all. Rooster shakes his head, knowing that the more he thought about it, the more that Beatrice was going to worry…”...you know what, nevermind.” he chuckles, shaking his head, “Tell me about your week.”
“Oh…are you sure?”
“I’m more than sure,gorgeous.” he whispers, “I promise…and I have time to talk too. So tell me about it.”
“Well,okay!”  she settles back on the chair, holding the phone up “What would you like to know first?”
Rooster takes a while to reply, because he’s looking at her face. Every little detail, the shade of her eyes, the way those full lips curl into a smile and the freckles she has dusted over her nose, “...anything.” he whispers, “...anything you want,I just want to hear your voice.”
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Clock Out (MY Ver.)
(Title Inspired by: @rotrighthrough Ver. of the same name)
Veronica works at a very perverted environment and being in a mostly male powered monetary accountant, she was in a bad place but also she was slightly financially stable and could not take any chances being an German-Canadian immigrant, she was struggling in America and every decision could cost a lot and switching jobs and or countries is risky but she gets her money by her hourglass fit figure and heavily pregnant beauty but she is now in her private cubicle, 9 months pregnant and in labor and water broken thoroughly and only having 4 hours left in her shift, sitting uncomfortably in her chair with a contracting abdomen, distracted from her properly working as she is bearing the singeing pain. Veronica having the cursed wardrobe of tight latex underwear tightly rending her pussy and her leather mini-skirt being the shortest and tightest thing that she could wear making her feel more exposed and her tight black thighhighs makes things worse in more ways than one . Then her boss Mr. Trent catches her pained expression, grins and walks over to her. "Oh, Shit",
"Hey Ronnie, darling you good?" Veronica wanted to destroy this man "I'm doing great, thank you Mr. Trent" She said in a very humbly, staring away from the computer. Her boss rub his crusty, oily hands on the tense white tux shirt fabric on top of the very sensitive belly. "Great, Good to hear. Umm, If you don't mind could you get me a coffee, now would you." 'That Dick" Veronica slowly got up and even thou, she felt the baby plummet down when she stood up with the head now brimming beyond the vagina. Mr. Greed looking under her skirt and grabbing the head, " Have we got a little accident down under?". Veronica Grunting and pissed replies "No, sir." Mr. Greed Chuckles “Good, because if that bastard child is birthed in my office you’re ass is so fired.” Veronica's breath hitched but she nodded. "Good girl".
Veronica hobbling off to get Mr. Trent his coffee and curses to herself when she can't be heard. She reaches the coffee machine and leaned against the counter, breathing her way through a searing contraction. When it subsides, she's made the coffee and waddled it over to Mr. Greed, He gives her a hefty slap on her ass that made her quiver considerably, "Good girl". Smiling at her. Him looking under her skirt at her bulging lingerie and his grin widens considerably. "Do you want to quit now and cut your losses?". He asked snobbishly. Veronica shaking her head. "No, Sir." Her Boss hummed and smiled. "Then back to work, no need to waste time with chit chat".
Veronica returned to her desk to see that her chair had been removed. Her female coworker; Trinity notices her expression and giggles. "Boss says best you have a standing desk you lose weight." She looked Veronica up and down and grinned, eyes pounding at the babies bulging head between her jerking legs. She walked over to her and slid a hand under skirt, brushing her fingers over the baby's head. She was about to punish her but a searing contraction came over her and she grits her teeth and almost collapsing to her knees, resting in overwhelming urge to push. "Ay I'll give you my chair for a price". Trinity purred, groping the breasts of Veronica and making her leak out her fitted tux shirt. "F-Fuck off Trinity". She stammered "Ok Sorry, Jeez. I'll watch that the kid isn't out on company time, Mr. Trent will thank me." Veronica furrowing her brows and locates another swiveling chair and pulls it over to her desk. The minute she takes a seat however, she could feel the baby's head move forward fast, it throbbed against her tortured labia, pressing down against it forcing it back into her. Singing pain spread all over her body but she manages to ignore it and work as best as possible.
About 2 and a half hours later, she so thoroughly soaked her tux shirt was practically transparent. Her Contractions we're now back to back, giving her no respite from the wretching pain. her belly was as hard as a smooth rock, packed with suppressed contractions. She knew she 1:30 minutes left of work but she could feel her purple pussy burn that she fears that it might tear, the baby's head is pushing against the tight fabric of her panties. She could feel herself pushing and despite trying to stop, it was impossible. The thick fog of pain overtook her and her body started to push on it's own, the head and neck now fully out. Luckily her tight panties prevented the baby from coming out any further. She bit into her knuckles to silence her moans and groans.
Mr. Trent came over to her desk and leaned against it. "mind standing up for me, hun?" He asked with a grin. Veronica didn't even know if it was possible, the strain on her steel herd belly made sitting more painful than any other pain she ever felt before in her life, let alone standing. She braced against the table and stood up slowly, knees twitching. Mr. Trent Excited in watching her suffer, her face already red in heat and tiredness She looked down at his pants and bulge begins to form, 'Creep' He looked down at her translucent tux shirt and soaked chest, then took a look under her leather mini-skirt, now covered in birthing fluid. "You remember our deal, right." He said mockingly. Veronica gritting her teeth and nodded. Mr. Trent giving her a hard slap on her belly sending a hellish pain throughout it and forcing her to squat down, pushing hard, however the stretched out fabric had no more give and after a few minutes of squatting and panting, she shakily got up again, face flushed and sweaty. Mr. Greed chuckling "Y'know I can give a release right? Right now, you can quit now if you want" Mr. Trent's smirk brought back all the defiance back into Veronica and she stood as straight as she could, shaking her head. "I'm gonna need that said aloud doll face." Veronica swallowed a thick glob of spit and shakily said "N-No I- I can" another contraction struck her and she collapsed onto her knees, the baby pushing wildly against her swollen pussy. Mr. Trent kneeled down and looking under her skirt along with all 22 co-workers just surrounding her, all accepting that she has given up, well that's where they fucked up "I can wait a half hour to clock out just let me handle this baby would you?" All very surprised and disappointed return to their desks.
Veronica stood up and leaned against the desk and takes a seat, sitting against her smoldering tortured pussy and pushing the baby back slightly and in smoldering and singeing pain she rocks back and forth in her moving swiveling chair as to compensate for the pain, her diamond blue eyes starting to tear up, feeling the baby's shoulders but then her tight latex undergarments preventing it and it stings Veronica and no matter how she tries she can't stop the constant pain and she even flattened a scrunchie with her teeth to silence whatever noise of pain she makes. Veronica having only 12 and a half minutes left, now only 11 minutes left to go, she slowly gets up to get water and hears a snap and her tight underwear ripped open. The baby's head plummeting and she screeches out in agony but at an instant but even then all her co-workers and even Mr. Trent comes and crowds around Veronica taking turns looking under her ruined skirt and the barging head between it. "Looks there's not much choice now Ronnie, Just let it happen." her diamond eyes glanced over to the clock, 8 minutes. Fuck NO. She clamped a hand over wildly bulging pussy, now swelling and nearly purple along tear dropped shaped to prevent the baby from going any further. Blood and Labor fluids dripped and flowed between her fingers and she could the sweat between her black hairs and her knees trembling so much, she feared they wouldn't be enough. Only 5 minutes to go, she had this in the bag.
She got up and fell backwards against the wall and fell back down to her knees, hand on the babies head and crossing her legs as tightly as possible and the pain intensified drastically and made her hyper sensitive to everything. her female co-worker looked down at her fearfully and eagerly. 3 minutes.... 2 minutes.. shit. Her boss places both hands and prying her legs open, the baby falling out quickly but her hands pushing it back in, a searing and constant pain goes across her belly and vagina even more fluid and blood drops and flows down, 1 minute..... 45 seconds... 32 seconds and Veronica's vision starts blacking out but then she gets up after hearing 10 seconds.... 5 seconds..... 3 seconds, 2 seconds, 1 seconds and times up! "Impre-" Veronica waddles off quickly and tries to get to her car but a strong contraction makes her bend over and grip door and waddles quickly towards the storage room enters and closes the door as she walks down the dark hallway and sits down leans her back against the wall and grabs her thighs with both hands and widens them then pushes as hard as she can and the baby is born and she falls to her side and pulls her baby to her chest.
HR got a heavily aggressive email, got her a raise and her boss gets fired, so eyy. She won eventually.
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rainbows-fanfics · 15 days
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Help Unwanted (Chapter 2)
Summary: After losing the Pirate, Deacon is unwillingly paired with a partner to help with his job. The only problem is - they can't stand each other, and time is dwindling until he can re-capture all his lost prisoners.
Human AU of the Armada from Pirate101.
Pairings: Deacon/Queen!Deacon, Deacon/OC
--
Despite what happened, Deacon was thrilled to be working again. He spent his entire night researching his lost fugitives, theorizing their whereabouts as a head-start to his mission. He’d make an entire schedule for the next three months if he could. He came into work that morning with a plan already sorted in his head. 
He arrived at the docks and found a woman sitting on one of the crates, kicking her boots idly. The two locked eyes when he appeared and she stood to her feet right away. 
She was dressed like him - a tall, black-and-golden hat on her head, along with a full-face mask and sheets clipped onto its sides to conceal her hair. She wore what looked to be his coat incorporated into a dress - buttoned together on the sides of her stomach, the ends shy of reaching her ankles. A small black cape was attached to a gear collar exactly like his, except this one only fell below her shoulders. 
He eyed her hourglass figure as she approached, her small boots emphasizing her steps. She stopped to place a hand on her hip. Her green eyes looked Deacon up-and-down without a word. She drank up his appearance, as he did with hers. He took the liberty of speaking first. 
"..Why do you look like me?" He sounded unimpressed, but that was far from the truth. It was a little flattering. 
Her voice had a Monquistan accent. "Queen designed the getup. Said something about it complimenting you."
He raised a hidden brow. "And your name?"
She tilted her head and crossed her arms. "Tell me yours first."
He'd never been too careful with his real name. He knew what tracks he left and wiped what he wanted from his files a long time ago. Codenames were unnecessary and a nuisance most of the time. "Deacon."
"...Dea."
He snorted. "Queen came up with that one, too?"
She sounded delighted. "I did. Just now."
"Charming."
She gestured for him to follow. He picked his cane off the floorboards and trailed behind, glancing at the docked ships they passed. They were getting less impressive and smaller in size the further they went. He hoped Kane didn't downgrade his ride as further punishment. 
"I heard the Erebus was an impressive vessel. Had the biggest brig in the fleet. Easy to sail, too." Dea tsked. "Pity what happened to it."
"Yeah, well." He muttered, digging through his pockets. "Nothing I can do about that now."
When he glanced up, he found Dea looking at him from the side, a playful glint to her eyes. She knew what happened and was already rubbing it in his face. He wasn't going to escape the humiliation no matter where he went, was he? 
They stopped at the last ship on the dock. Thankfully, it wasn’t the smallest one - its size equal to the Erebus, though not as familiar to him. Its structure looked similar to other prison ships, which piqued his interest. The sails were not their usual black-and-golden color, remaining a white and blue instead. As he observed the craft, Dea stood to the side and motioned proudly.  
“Here she is - The Executioner .” 
“She was named already..?” 
“It’s a newer clockwork vessel. Kane picked this one for our mission. They let me name it, so I did.” She waited before adding, “-I thought it was fitting. We’re using it to execute our mission - therefore, the ‘Executioner’ . No?” 
“...Isn’t that part of the Captain’s job?” 
She scoffed, turning around and jabbing a finger at his chest. He was taken aback at the forwardness, stumbling when she poked him. 
“I’m your co-captain, in case you’ve forgotten. And the first rule of my command is that I get to name the ship.” 
He leaned forward to meet her abrasiveness. She was several inches shorter than him, not accounting the heels on her booties. “--Then let’s call it even: I get to sail it.” 
She flicked her gloved hand. “Fine.” 
Truthfully, the name of the ship didn’t bother him. When captaining Armada boats, he was more concerned with where it went and how it got there. And he likely didn’t deserve the privilege, after his incident with the Erebus. But he didn’t appreciate her making decisions on his behalf. This was his mission, after all.  
They were noticed by some crewmembers, who dropped a board to allow them on. Dea went first as Deacon followed behind. They were greeted by the crew, who stood in a line and saluted them. There were soldiers, marines, and even a couple of dragoons and battle angels. The spymaster noted the higher selection of fighters and wondered if this was done purposefully, due to the failure of his last battle. 
“ Captains !” They shouted loudly. He’d have to get used to the plurality. He moved in front of them and rested on his cane, preparing his usual introduction. 
“ Buongiorno. My name is Deacon, the Armada’s Emissary and Spymaster. I will be the captain of this vessel for the next few months. You are expected-”
“---I’m Dea, your co-captain.” The woman beside him butted in, much to his annoyance. “You are expected to follow our commands and keep this vessel in ship-shape. We will be imprisoning any undesirables and pirates we encounter. Am I clear?”
“Yes ma’am!” 
“For the glory of the Armada!” 
The Armada soldiers repeated the line proudly. Deacon rolled his eyes. He wasted no time getting familiar with the ship - inspecting the deck, checking the sails, and assigning jobs to the crewmembers. He made note of everything he observed and wrote down his crew’s names, in a journal he kept with him on his voyages. He counted the empty cells and determined the full capacity of their future prisoners. When all was said and done, he went to visit the Captain’s cabin, only to get stopped by his female doppelgänger. 
She looked at him expectantly. “Ready to assign the crew’s duties?” 
“-Already done.” He flipped the journal to her view. She leaned forward to read his handwriting. 
“When did you do that ?” She went to grab it from his hands, but he pulled it away before she could.
“I’ve done this a million times. There’s no time for dilly-dallying on the first day, especially when we’re expected to sail tomorrow.” 
“Yes, but–” He was already opening the door to the cabin. She stormed after him. “You’re supposed to consult me ! That’s what co-captaining means!” 
He stopped in his tracks. She was steaming under her mask, gloved fists clenched in anger. He grabbed the small journal from his pocket, flipped it to the right page, and handed it to her. She took it with a huff. She focused on reading what he’d written down. Deacon took this time to properly survey the cabin, seeing as this room will be his lodging for the next few months. 
There were two beds on opposite walls, one for him and the other for her, both concealed by privacy sheets. A long table sat in the back respectively for mapping and navigation, with a built-in compass and globe in the middle of the room. A bookcase was placed against the wall with provided parchment paper. He glanced at the informative titles on navigation, geography, and varied history – noting the ones he’d have to read later.  
Dea finished reading, sighing as she shut the journal. She went to return it, only to find the Emissary hunched in the back of the room. He was trying to open a chest he found under the captain’s desk. She stepped forward and carelessly dropped it, drumming her small fingers on the wood. She glanced at his crouched figure from the corner of her eye. 
“You must be a lone wolf - one of those men who like to take charge. Who prefer to do things by themselves. Am I right?” 
He nodded vaguely, only half-paying attention as he attempted each of his keys in the lock. She stifled an irritated groan. She didn’t want to lose her patience so soon. 
“We’re working together . You can’t do something and tell me about it afterwards - we need to talk through things, and–” 
She was interrupted when the box sprung open. They were presented with a gorgeous view of gold and doubloons. Deacon made no hesitation to count the sum inside. Dea was too busy marveling at the sight, snapped out of her trance when he dropped more than a handful of coins into her hands. She was quiet for a second or two, until she finally looked at him, and found he was pocketing a good portion as well. 
“What’s this for?” 
He tilted his head strangely at her. She turned defensive at his silence. “You dumped a bunch of gold in my hands..?” 
“It’s more than usual because there are two Captains now, if that’s what you’re wondering.” 
He resumed what he’d been doing. Dea held her palms out, no idea on what to do with what she was given. She grew agitated. “That still doesn’t answer my question!” 
Deacon finally stopped his movements. He looked at her for an awfully long time. The silence grew tense and uncomfortable. She shifted her feet and blushed under her mask, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Over what - she didn’t know. He soon clicked his tongue. 
“Have you ever Captained a ship before?” 
She was offended, as he assumed. “What?”
“They give you a chest of gold for necessities.” He shut it for emphasis, locking it with the same key. “-Every Captain knows this.” 
Her defensiveness was immediately replaced with humiliation. She discarded her share in one of her dress’ pockets, promptly looking away and clearing her throat. “-I knew that. It’s…been awhile, that’s all.” 
He continued to stare at her, which did nothing to ease her discomfort. The quarters felt unbearable. She wanted out of this room as soon as possible. She turned on her heel and headed straight for the door, refusing to pass her partner a second glance. 
“I’m going to check on the crew.” 
He watched her leave in a hurry, slamming the door behind her. He stood to his full height and grabbed his journal from the desk. His eyes traveled back to where she once stood, replaying Dea's confusion in his head. They drifted back to the door and he hummed inquisitively to himself. 
He suddenly wanted to know more about his 'co-captain'.
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crissiebaby · 1 year
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The Perfect Match, Pt. 1
DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, babyfication, humiliation, domination, SPH, masturbation/diaper sex, anal play, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!
Commissioned By: Anon
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*KNOCK KNOCK!*
Standing outside of a posh townhome on the wealthier side of town was JW, an average-looking and mild-mannered guy. Dressed in a wrinkled, orange T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans that he really should’ve purchased a belt for by now, one wouldn’t suspect that he was standing on this very doorstep in anticipation of a date with a girl he matched on a dating app. He honestly couldn’t believe it himself when he saw who he matched with.
Elma M. That was the name JW stumbled upon one drunken weekday night when flipping through girls on Bumblr. Unlike most of the other girls he’d happened upon, she was more than just cute or good with makeup and lighting. She was an absolute knockout with an almost cartoonishly perfect hourglass figure. Her bio made sure to brag about her E-cups, something that only turned JW on more. He definitely was looking for an attractive and confident woman like her. With little self-awareness and a crap ton of wishful thinking, he swiped right and hoped for the best.
To his gleeful surprise, about half a day later after he had sobered, JW received a notification on his phone saying that Elma M. had matched with him. He practically jumped for joy as he stared down at his phone, feeling a sense of pride welling up in his chest. After a brief but pleasant conversation, he and Elma agreed to meet at her place for a Friday evening date. To think that not only would he be going on a date with one of the hottest women he’d ever laid eyes on but he’d be stopping by her house first. Maybe if he was lucky, they would swing by her place after the date as well.
While JW was nothing but confident in his match with Elma, his friends were far more skeptical, trying to remind him if something on the internet seems too good to be true, it almost certainly is. He attempted to quell their doubts by boasting about Bumblr’s top-notch verification system which made it nearly impossible for someone to fake an account. Sadly, his friends weren’t exactly swayed. Rolling his bright, green eyes at their cynicism, he decided the best way to prove them wrong was to go on the date and brag about it afterward.
*Raaaaaaattle! CLICK!*
The sounds of the front door unlocking pulled JW’s wandering mind back to reality. He quickly straightened up his poster and adjusted his stance so that his “good” angle was pushed forward. Running his fingers through his neck-length brown hair one last time, his face brightened into a smile, ready to greet his date. 
“Hi! You must be JW!” said Elma with a deep, sultry voice as her ruby-red lips stretched into a warm smile. The photos on Bumblr failed to capture just how drop-dead gorgeous this woman was. Her long, auburn hair shimmered under the glow of the porch lights, accenting her delicate skin tone perfectly.
Tragically, JW was not aware of this as his eyes were drawn in by the hypnotic pull of Elma’s sweater puppies. Contrary to his mundane appearance, she was wearing a black evening dress with a slit running down the side of her leg and a fashion belt strapped around her waist. The length of the dress did nothing to hide just how tall Elma was, standing more than a couple of inches above JW’s painfully average height of 5’9”.
Stepping out of the doorway, Elma happily stood over JW, looking down at him as she extended her arm for a handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, accepting JW’s slightly damp hand into her own, “Please, come inside, won’t you? I’m almost finished getting ready.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to make her way back inside the house while keeping a grip on JW’s appendage.
Not that JW would’ve turned Elma down anyway. If she had asked him to be her dog, he would’ve rolled over and barked at her beck and call. Entering her well-manicured apartment, he was instantly blown away by how spotless and trending everything was. All the furniture matched the tan-colored walls and soft, beige carpet, creating a relaxing environment. It was certainly a far cry from his drab studio, which had not been thoroughly cleaned since he moved in.
“Kick your shoes off at the door, please. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?” said Elma, shutting the door behind JW and locking it tight. Once again, she didn’t wait for an answer, making a B-line directly toward the kitchen.
Obeying Elma’s request, JW, quickly slid his tennis shoes off without untying them and parked himself down on the plush couch. “Um…sure. Thank you,” he said, not really being much of a tea person but far too nervous to turn down her offer. As he waited for Elma to return with his teacup, he glanced around her living room, admiring the small bits of personality hidden within her decor. From the abstract painting of a child playing with blocks to the music box with a cutely-dressed ceramic infant on top, she clearly had a thing for baby imagery. Based on the fact that she was getting into her 30s, it was clear to him that she must’ve been eager to settle down. This thought caused him to snicker as he mumbled under his breath, “Guess all those asshole dudebros didn’t work out, so she’s finally giving a nice guy a try.”
After a couple of minutes of tapping his finger on the armrest of the couch before transitioning to tapping his finger on the touch screen of his phone, Elma finally returned with a fine china tea cup on a small serving platter in hand. “Here you are! You go ahead and drink up. I’ll be ready in a jiffy,” she said, gently handing the cup and saucer to JW. After the handoff, she proceeded to watch JW for a moment, waiting for him to take his first sip.
Feeling the pressure of Elma’s eyes on him, JW lifted the cup to his mouth and took in a small sip. Pleasantly, the tea was the perfect temperature, not too warm and not too cold. That was nothing compared to the flavor, which danced on his tongue in a mixture of fruity and leafy undertones. “Mmmm! It’s delicious,” he said before tipping the cup back for another, much larger gulp.
Pleased by JW’s enjoyment of the tea, Elma turned to leave, watching him in the corner of her eye as he chugged down the contents of the teacup. She had anticipated him to take longer to finish his cup. However, since he was so unrefined as to slurp down the entire cup in one fell swoop, she supposed she might as well get started. “Tell me, JW…” she said in a far less sweet tone as she slowly turned around to face JW again from the other side of the room, a looming shadow shrouding her face in darkness, “...Is that really what you’re planning to wear on our date?”
Polishing off the last of his tea, JW coughed as Elma’s question caught him off-guard. Surely the kind-sounding woman who had treated him so nicely up to this point didn’t just say something so pointed. Unfortunately, as he looked up from his cup, any doubts he had were laid to rest by her stoic expression. “I-I…um…” he stuttered, a knot welling up in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t really one for confrontation, so hearing Elma be so directly disappointed in his appearance hit him hard.
“‘I’ and ‘Um’? Is that really all you have to say for yourself?” asked Elma, strutting back across the living room until she towered over a still-seated JW, “I cannot fathom why you assumed a t-shirt and blue jeans were acceptable attire for a dinner date. If this relationship is going to work, I expect the same level of output from you that I put in. Understand?”
Scared by Elma’s sudden turn-face-heel, JW nodded quickly. While he partially began to notice why someone as beautiful as Elma was still single, his desperation for her voluptuous body led him to hope this would only be a minor speed bump in what would surely be a long and loving relationship. “If you g-give me twenty minutes, I can go home and change,” he said, praying that he remembered to wash his good button-up in the last load of laundry.
“And waste my time? Funny!” responded Elma, shaking her head in disapproval,  “A bunch of my brother’s clothes are still here. Strip and I’ll fetch you something more fitting for a date with someone like me.” She punctuated her sentence by folding her arms across her bodacious chest.
Nodding meekly for a second time, JW was honestly a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to rush all the way home, though he was also nervous about letting a girl he’d just met dress him. As hesitant as he was, he wasn’t about to risk having her turn him away. “F-Fine. Can you show me to a bathroom or spare room to change?” he asked, still clutching the teacup between his fingers.
“Ha! And give you the chance to rifle through my stuff? Fat chance,” said Elma, glaring holes through JW’s skull, “No, you’ll strip right here, right now, or the date is off.”
Cowering in his seat, JW was so intimidated by Elma that he could faint. As frightening as she was in her present state, he couldn’t help but find himself aroused by how dominant she was. The conflict in his brain threatened to give him whiplash. Reluctantly, he climbed to his feet and began to lift his shirt over his head, too committed to his date with a bombshell to refuse at this point. However, as he removed his orange top and showed off his slender, scrawny physique, he remembered which pair of underwear he had chosen to wear that day, causing him to blush at the thought of showing them to Elma. “P-Please, can I have some privacy for the next part?” he pleaded, hoping for an ounce of mercy from his date.
“Nope! Pants down now, lover boy,” said Elma, showing no leniency toward JW. With how close she was to getting him undressed, he was nearly to the point of no return. All she had to do was push him a little further to seal the deal. 
With shaky hands, JW reached down for the front button of his pants, not certain he had the emotional strength to see this through. His face was beet red with humiliation and he hadn’t even lowered his jeans yet. In the back of his mind, he knew if he let her see what he was wearing under his pants that any shot of a long-term romance with Elma would be dead and gone. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself to stand up to his date, “I can’t. I’ll wear whatever you want me to. Just don’t make me do this.”
Rolling her eyes, Elma closed the gap between her and JW as she reached down and placed her hands on the waistband of his jeans. “If you’re not going to do it, I’ll just have to do it for you,” she said starkly as she yanked JW’s pants down with enough force to strip him in one go. Now that his jeans were around his ankles, her eyes went wide as she finally figured out why he’d been so resistant, “HAHAHA! Are those…tighty whities?!”
Sure enough, stretched around JW’s waist was a pair of fresh tighty whities, their newly-purchased status on display due to the lack of loose threads and laundry stains. Adding to his embarrassment was his less-than-flaccid cock, which pulsed against the fabric of his undies. A small dot of precum accentuated the tip of his penis, letting Elma know exactly what he thought of her.
“Oh my Goddess! This is just too much,” said Elma, keeping a tight grip on JW’s pants so that he couldn’t scurry away. Positioning herself so she could free up a hand, she reached across his unshaven thighs and lightly flicked the girth of JW’s little JW, “Is that all the harder it can get? I take it JW must stand for Junior Wiener. No wonder you’re wearing tighty whities! Grade-school undies for a grade-school-sized cock.”
Unable to stomp his legs free from Elma’s hold, JW could do nothing more to hide from his shame than cover his face with one hand while meekly pushing Elma’s hand away with the other. “Y-You don’t have to be a b-bitch about it,” he mumbled angrily through gritted teeth with his damaged pride. As someone who didn’t have a ton of confidence in his four-inch weapon, this was by far the most devastating night of his life, “Just let me p-pull my pants up and I’ll get out of your hair.”
While JW may have wanted a hasty retreat, Elma wasn’t about to let him off so easily. As JW tried to shuffle away again, she thrust the bunched pants upward, stripping them off of JW’s legs and causing him to fall back onto the couch. He wasn’t allowed to settle in for too long, though, as she proceeded to wrap her fingers around the hem of JW’s underwear and pull him back into a standing position. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere, Junior,” she said, bluntly declaring her new nickname for her newest pet. Adding a bit of force to her statement, she shifted her hand to the rear of JW’s undies and tugged them upward, giving him the mother of all wedgies.
“AHHHHHHHHH! S-STAWP IT! LEMME GO!” screamed JW as he was practically lifted off of his feet by his underwear alone. Tragically, his cries fall on deaf ears with Elma showing an ounce of empathy toward her date-to-be. He could practically feel threads popping loose as his body weight worked against him. It was only then that he realized just how much weaker he was than Elma. Her height was one thing but now that she was holding him up, it was plain as day that this woman could easily carry him by one arm if she wanted; a thought that buried his soul in fear.
Shaking her head at JW’s pitiful attempt to claw himself away from her grasp, Elma decided it was time to call it. “I think it’s safe to say that date is officially off now. I’m looking for a man, not some oafish boy,” she said, pulling him up higher so that his feet were officially dangling in mid-air, “Now, you’ve wasted my time. I put a lot of work into getting ready for tonight and turned down quite a few dates when I accepted yours. So, I expect an apology, Junior!”
“I-I-I’m sorry!” cried JW, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pleaded for forgiveness. Between the brute force of the wedgie and the power behind Elma’s voice, everything was so overwhelming. Unfortunately, the pain from having his undies pulled up for so long had caused him to miss the pings of pain resonating from his bladder. Lost in a haze of humiliation and terror, he helplessly began to wet himself; warm, yellow streams trickling down his legs and dripping onto the carpet.
Elma’s hands stopped fighting against JW’s resistance as an evil smile curled across her lips. Not wanting to give herself away, she quickly suppressed her wicked intentions and instead feigned shock and ignorance. “Are you…fucking kidding me?” she said in a tone of voice that was much too calm given the unfolding events.
From JW’s perspective though, Elma’s calmness only made her words more menacing. As soon as he realized what was happening, his hands rushed to cover his crotch, as if applying external pressure would cause him to stop peeing. His attempts to stem the flow failed spectacularly with the pungent, yellow liquid pooling beneath his socks.
“I don’t know who mothered you but that clearly failed,” said Elma, leaning in so her face was only pinky’s length away from JW’s. In one, swift jerking motion, she stretched JW’s tighty whities to the limit, listening to the cacophonous crackling of fabric beginning to tear all the while, “I think it’s about time someone started over with you.”
*RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!*
Collapsing onto the floor where a pool of his own piss had gathered, it had only taken a few minutes of being in Elma’s townhome for JW to turn into a shell of his former self. Lines of snot and drool bubbled down his face, accenting his uncontrollable tears. Tilting his head toward the floor like a dog who knows they’re in trouble, he couldn’t bear to look up and see Elma waving his tattered, yellow-stained undies over his head. He wanted to run away and never look back but sadly, given that the last scrap of clothing he had on was mercilessly ripped away, he was now stuck under Elma’s thumb until she either dressed him or kicked him out; the latter of which he prayed happened after the former.
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The warmth of the shower felt nice on JW’s raw skin. After falling into a puddle of his own urine, he supposed he should be grateful to Elma for letting him clean himself up, though part of him assumed she only did it to keep him from tracking any more pee around the house. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he cracked the bathroom door open and sheepishly called out, “H-Hey Elma, I’m all done.” “Okay, I’m just picking out stuff for you to wear. Come join me in the room at the end of the hall,” responded Elma, no longer sounding nearly as agitated.
Stepping out of the bathroom, JW peeked into the living room, finding several damp towels placed along the floor. Seeing the aftermath of his accident caused his face to flush instantly. He quickly looked away and B-lined straight for the door at the end of the short hall, hoping that Elma would have the carnage cleared while he got dressed.
As JW entered the room, he expected to find Elma’s bedroom, guest room, or maybe even a home office. What he didn’t expect was for the scent of baby powder to assault his nostrils as soon as he broke the plane into the room. To his surprise, all around him was a meticulously organized nursery done up in soft, pastel colors. It had everything one would expect to see in a baby room, from furnishings such as a changing table, a crib, and a large diaper pail, to a wide selection of toys and baby outfits that would make any infant feel like the luckiest kid in the world. 
Why all of this was in such an attractive woman’s house was beyond JW. The first assumption that came to his head was that she must’ve had a kid, which might explain why she was still single this late in her life. However, that theory was thrown out the window as, upon taking a more critical look, he noticed that all of the furnishings were much too large for any baby to interact with. Maybe it was a daycare service? Or perhaps her kid was special needs? Before JW could settle on an answer in his brain, Elma emerged from the closet with a bright orange piece of fabric folded neatly in her hands. “Go ahead and throw this on,” she said, offering the clothing to JW.
Due to the fact that the cloth in his hand was the same color as the shirt he’d shown up in, JW’s brain instantly connected the dots, leading him to assume what he was holding was his own t-shirt. This theory was quickly debunked, though, thanks to the difference in fabric type. Intrigued, he unfurled the folded attire, watching as it rolled past his belly and stopped just above his crotch. Only, unlike a normal shirt, this one seemed to curve back inward at the bottom…and had a set of three buttons lining the bottom hem… “Um, excuse me but I think you gave me a…a onesie?”
“It’s not a mistake,” said Elma nonchalantly, as if nothing was out of place, “Now, hurry up and get it on, but don’t touch the snaps.”
Blushing slightly, JW’s mind refused to believe that Elma actually intended for him to wear such a getup. He chuckled nervously, deciding to play off how mortifying her little prank was. “Haha, very funny. Look, I said I was sorry about the carpet and I promise I’ll pay for a cleaner but this is honestly a pretty tasteless joke,” he said, setting the onesie aside.
Stomping across the nursery, Elma was done with JW’s insolence. She whisked his towel away and grabbed him by the ear and forced him in close. “I don’t think you realized what’s happening here, so let me spell it out for you,” she said, causing his waterworks to slowly reactivate, “I said hurry up and get it on, and do not touch the snaps. Now, are you going to listen, or am I dragging you out of my house butt naked?”
With his lip quivering, a shaken JW picked the onesie back up and began to fit it over his head. It was surprisingly more snug than he thought when initially presented with the outfit, hugging his torso as he shifted the stretchy fabric across his body.
“There, doesn’t that feel much safer and cozier,” said Elma, patting JW’s hair as she took him by the arm and led him to the changing table, “Hop on up so I can finish changing you.”
Taking a step back, JW instinctually shook his head no, well aware of what Elma’s intentions were. “Nononono, you can’t be…s-serious…” he said, his voice trailing off as he looked into Elma’s eyes, only to see how deadly serious she really was. With his digits still clasped within hers, he allowed himself to be guided back to the changing table, where Elma placed her hands on his hips and lifted his butt onto the table. The cool, padded surface of the table caused him to wince ever so slightly.
“See, not so scary, right?” said Elma, her condescending, motherly voice beginning to leak through the cracks of her facade as she placed a diaper flat on the changing table, “I’m going to lay you back now. Try to keep still until I finish, and I’ll make sure you get a lovely reward.”
By this point, JW was locked in place by sheer panic, too afraid to run while also dreading what was to come if he stayed. Losing every ounce of his autonomy with each passing second, he mindlessly allowed Elma to rotate him and lay him back gently, prompting her to slide the diaper under his butt. He felt the air leave his lungs as the plastic surface of the diaper crinkled as he was stationed atop it.
“Breathe, baby boy. I promise it’ll be over before you know it. I am a professional, after all,” said Elma, as she began lathering up his diaper area with lotion, making sure to save his twig and berries for last, “Look at it! It’s even more shriveled up than before! A penis so small it was practically made for diapers.” She giggled, watching the redness pile onto JW’s cheeks from the corner of her eyes. Setting the lotion aside, she grabbed the bottle of baby powder from the changing table’s shelf and made it snow all over her new newborn’s pelvic region.
As the diaper was folded up between his legs, JW felt the last gasp of his material adulthood vanish in thin air as his babyish wardrobe was now complete. He barely recognized himself as he looked down and watched Elma press the onesie’s buttons into place.
Rounding out his ensemble, Elma hoisted a pair of locking, silk mittens and booties onto him, adding to his defenseless dependency. She also popped a pacifier in his mouth, silencing any future protests that might arise. “There we go! Properly dressed and ready for a night in with Mother Elma,” she said as she lifted JW into her arms and held his head close to her chest, “Also, I’d better not see that that paci leave your lips without permission, or else there’ll be consequences. Understand?”
Snuggled up in Elma’s arms, JW nodded compliantly as he fought against the parts of his psyche that gained any sort of enjoyment from this. Sure, being so close to Elma’s enormous E-cups was a blessing for any man but not at the cost of his adulthood! Waking himself from the hypnotic magnetism of 
gargantuan gazongas, he worked up the courage to ask a single question from around the nipple of his binky, “C-Can I go home now?”
Approaching their destination, Elma held onto her answer for a little longer, waiting until the perfect moment. She planted a kiss on the tip of his nose as she grabbed onto the pair of straps hanging down from the ceiling and pulled them open wide enough for JW’s legs to slip through. With JW in place, she let him drop into the harness, landing with an adorable *pomf* as his butt slotted in Elma’s adult-sized baby bouncer that was high enough to keep him from ever getting a solid footing.
Before JW could even react to his new surroundings, Elma took hold of both his hands and connected the mittens he was wearing to a chain that was elaborately hung over the bouncer, fixing his arms into a more permanent position. It hadn’t taken nearly as long as she thought it would but the hard part was officially over. With JW locked up in the bouncer with no hope of escaping on his own, things were about to get a lot more fun, especially once her friends arrived.
*KNOCK KNOCK!*
Speaking of the devil, Elma’s mischievous grin returned. “I wonder who that could be. Wait, right here, Junior. Mother Elma will be right back,” she said, skipping to the nursery entrance and making her way toward the front door.
Left alone bobbing up and down, JW could hear the door creak open, followed by a muddle of female voices chattering, though he couldn’t make out who else was talking or what they were conversing about. He considered momentarily threatening to call the cops once Elma came back but decided against it, worried she might retaliate. Closing his eyes, he wished to whoever might be listening for this nightmare to be over, praying that whoever was at the door didn’t get invited back to see him. Sadly, hearing multiple footsteps and voices moving through the hall, he had a feeling that prayer wasn’t going to be answered.
“OMG! You really did a number on him Elma!”
“Yeah, even though it all went to plan, I can’t believe he turned out so perfectly.”
JW didn’t even have to look at who had entered the nursery to know who it was. Those two voices were so burned into his memory that there was no way he could forget. Angling his head toward the door, he confirmed what he already knew. Standing in the doorway with eager expressions were Hannah, his most recent ex-girlfriend, and Kaley, his very first relationship. Confused, horrified, and embarrassed to high heaven, his mouth went slack, resulting in his pacifier dropping to the floor.
TO BE CONTINUED…
PART 2
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myhauntedsalem · 2 months
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The Grim Reaper
The Grim Reaper job is to reap the souls of the recently dead into the afterlife. He is often depicted as a tall pale skeletal figure shrouded in a long, dark, black hooded cloak wielding a scythe which he uses to harvest souls with. His duty is to claim the souls of the decease who he does not kill but merely guides them to the next realm. It is not his place to judge or determine where they are headed.
The Grim Reaper comes for every person, holding an hourglass and when the last grain of sand falls he collects the soul with a swipe of his scythe. 
There are actually a surprising number of accounts of people encountering cloaked entities that seem very much keeping with the image of the literal Grim Reaper in both appearance and behavior.
If the Grim Reaper appears in our dreams, it symbolizes a change or the ending of some important phase in our lives and the need to accept that fact. Dreams about the Grim Reaper are common dreams during major life changes and endings of some kind, such as changing jobs, moving to a new place of residence, ending a relationship and entering a new one.
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waywardsalt · 8 months
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mmmm a while(ish) back i wrote out a scene from one of my loz aus (the one with an actual name, 'in the court of the crimson king', [often shortened to just 'crimson king']) so uhhhh i edited it a bit to account for some changes made since then and decided to share it here!
(if this is difficult to read for any reason let me know and ill just paste the text in normally)
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this was also my first time actually writing bellum for real as opposed to how it works in peus so im still a bit shaky with him
this is meant to be a flashback scene for... somewhere within the story, a lot of the more specific plot details of this au are still murky, but it's the most developed one and most likely to be the next au i actually write. its fun and older than i expected, since my friend was able to find and share some old documents i had shared with him a few years ago and i was surprised to find an early draft for this au in there.
the basic idea of this au is that it is set in a semi-industrial hyrule city, separated into segments (districts?), each of which is run by an anonymous leader who handles both the general matters of their segment as well as being in charge of a lot of crime. bellum is one of the leaders in this scenario.
linebeck lives with his adoptive family (link, aryll, and their grandmother) and helps them make ends meet by going off every other week to earn money through jobs. due to money often being very tight, linebeck secretly moonlights as an urban legend-type figure known as the 'demon of the gray moon', and takes extra jobs ranging from theft to spying to murder, often working directly for bellum, who is a close friend he's known since childhood and the one who helped him cultivate and bring into reality the persona of the demon.
(i need to somehow shorten this synopsis, but there's a lot going on from the start and i have yet to even figure out how things begin, so... it's a work in progress. the plot that takes place has some elements of wind waker and a little bit of phantom hourglass as well as kind of being its own thing)
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hi! i asked for matchup as anon before, but now i'll to this with my ✨account✨
if it's not a problem of course (⁠Ӧ⁠v⁠Ӧ⁠。⁠)
soo could i get matchup for howl's moving castle, bungou stray dogs and one punch man? (⁠。⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠。⁠)
my pronouns are she/her
i'm demisexual panromantic
i'm enfp 7w8, leo
i'm 6'0 and have amber eyes, long gold blond curly hair and hourglass figure
i'm positive and upbeat person, i try to see the bright side in most situations
i'm friendly, energetic, confident, sarcastic, responsible, maybe a bit chaotic, cheerful and bubbly
i care about my friends and family a lot, and go out of my way to show it
i enjoy having fun and living life to the fullest
i'm very competitive and passionate person
i really like puzzles, riddles and crosswords
i love making people smile
i have morbid, dark sense of humor
sometimes i randomly say a weird obscure fact in the middle of conversation
i can play on violin, cello, piano, guitar, saxophone, harp and drums, i'm currently learning how to play on trumpet
i like poetry and sometimes i write a poem or two, also i'm writing my book
i'm ballet dancer since i was a kid and i love performing
i'm working on my own cartoon
i never quite grew out of the fantasy phase, and i'm still enamored with tales of changelings and witches
i work as illustrator for fantasy books and books for kids
i'm kinda struggling with taking rest, doing nothing, because there is always something to do, something new to learn, etc.
i'm afraid of stagnation
i overuse this kind of emojis→(⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)
my style is something between whimsigothic and cryptidcore
i love: collecting things, astronomy, tea, making and watching movies, forests, making jewelry, cooking, baking, d&d, horrors, animals, plants, gardening, traveling, art, history, world mythologies, learning new things, psychology, handicraft
also i want to thank you for my previous matchup, i loved it ( ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥
i hope it's not a problem that i asked again (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)
if it is, feel free to ignore my ask!
have a wonderful and fantastic day!
(⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠。⁠*⁠♡
Hi! Absolutely you can get another matchup! I'm glad you liked the last one. Sorry this one took a while. I hope you like your matchups!
In Howl's Moving Castle, I match you with...
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Sophie loves both your positivity and your sarcasm. You’re very similar to her in that way and she likes that you can bond over things like tormenting Howl.
Loves listening to you play music. I see Sophie as someone who is too shy to dance but is actually surprisingly good at it.
There’s no stagnation to be found in this relationship! Between getting on the wrong side of witches, travelling around in the moving castle, and getting caught up in Howls’ shenanigans, you and Sophie both have your hands full.
Sophie would enjoy cooking and baking with you. She’s glad there’s someone else around who is responsible enough to help out around the castle. Plus, it’s nice being able to spend time with you.
She would also love gardening with you. She finds it relaxing and you both get to contribute to the layout of the garden. If you have any interest in the meaning behind flowers, Sophie will read up on them and put messages into her flower arrangements while gardening.
Very good at helping you take rests. She’s got a magic touch when it comes to those sorts of things and knows exactly when you need to take a break. She’ll lure you away from whatever you were doing with the promise of freshly cooked food and cuddles.
In Bungo Stray Dogs, I match you with...
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Stagnation? With Dazai around? I don’t think so. This guy will find a way to turn even the most boring routine into a chaotic mess.
Hope you like your plans getting derailed every few minutes because that’s what’s going to happen when you’re in a relationship with Dazai.
He loves your sense of humour so much. He’s got some issues and covers them up with dark humour so he’s glad you have the same style. He feels better making those sorts of jokes knowing they won’t make you uncomfortable.
Dazai would love to read anything you write. In his eyes whatever you’ve written is wonderful but he will always try to give you balanced feedback; some things he liked, some things you could improve on.
Dazai also struggles with taking care of himself and having breaks. Set alarms to go off through your day and every time they rouse you from your work, you both have to have a snack, drink some water, and have a quick walk around the house/office/wherever you are.
It’s good for both your mental and physical health. Plus, it keeps fights to a minimum in your relationship since neither of you are pushing yourselves past the breaking point.
In One Punch Man, I match you with...
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Okay, hear me out! I think you and Saitama would get along really well. You both dislike stagnation, it’s just that Saitama has found himself in a situation where that’s the one constant in his life.
With all your hobbies, Saitama will dedicate himself to learning everything he can about all of them. That way, no matter what you’re doing or talking about, he knows enough to provide constructive comments.
He is also better able to appreciate the work that goes into all of your hobbies this way.
Please get him into D&D. Having a weak character is a nice change for him and I think he would enjoy the escapism of the game. Just be careful he doesn’t level up too fast…
Your positivity is a nice change of pace for Saitama. He’s surrounded by angsty and serious people all the time so you’re a nice break away from all that.
But at the same time, he loves your sarcasm. It might take a while for him to start showing emotions around you since he’s not a super expressive person to begin with, but whenever you make a sarcastic comment, you’ll catch a small smile on his face.
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lovesbites · 2 years
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The White Rabbit Mystery so far
The White Rabbit Song
Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass themes
“feed your head”
Clue 1.
hanged man
“who killed the world?” “you did”
D E M O N X
an hourglass in a red circle
“come with me”
the stick figure missing his left leg
Clue 2.
maze, a red door
three flames
“patricide” (also, apparently it said “coal” at some point)
Clue 3. (edit: I am not sure if this is legit at all at this point)
originally from a reddit post from a now-deleted user
tic-tac-toe on chessboard background
red hearts on black
purple clubs on white
waves/”riptide” (I actually have not seen this one yet so I’m just following what the rest of the internet says)
Clue 4.
a tiktok video containing a selection of wrestlers with the message “Who killed the world? You did. You did. Feed your head. Feed your head. 40701”
40701 is a zip code to Corbin, KY, which happens to have White Rabbit Records
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the coordinates in the video description leads to the outline of the Giant Pink Bunny
the tiktok account is called _comewithme (it is an actual account you can follow on tiktok), the profile picture is a white bunny on black background, surrounded by a red circle
930YWG references the next Smackdown on the 30th of September in Winnipeg
in the source code of the clue it says “No man is ever truly evil / No man is ever truly good”
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Other
according to WWE it is “somebody that nobody is talking about” [update] I actually can’t find a confirmation of this anywhere else so not 100% certain about this
red lighting when they play The White Rabbit + that one time during Alexa’s match
[new] a youtube channel called “White Rabbit Records” (from clue 4) that had previously only posted the song The White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane 15 years ago posted today (9/26) a three second video that has the code “04062”, which leads to Windham, Maine. The channel also has changed their header and profile picture to the numbers on black background. (possibly not related)
[new] apparently according to this reddit comment, the White Rabbit Records youtube channel was previously named “Martisslandia”, googling that “you find graphic designs they’ve done, including one from 2020 that specifically calls back to the QR video from tonight” (most likely not related)
of course, take all the unofficial findings with a grain of salt, not everything is a clue. or maybe it is, who knows at this point. please add if you have anything else! 
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volucerrubidus · 1 year
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You wouldn't believe the weird time she's had. There's been snooping and sleuthing and some minor stealing, but did it really count if you stole it from a thief? ...Irrelevant. So is how late past her bedtime it is. The important things is that she thinks she's figured it out and wants to help.
"Red! I'mma be honest, you don't look so good."
Misc. Asks II Inbox: Open
Tim's gotten around 7 hours and 48 minutes of sleep by the time night falls. Not quite 8, but it doesn't matter because it's close enough, and their window of time is already narrowing. The first 48 hours are draining from the hourglass faster than the entire family can even blink, not to mention get a good lead.
They could brute force Amusement Mile, but there's no guarantee that Joker wouldn't just kill Jason the moment they come crashing through windows.
There's technically not even a good guarantee that Joker is behind it. They certainly aren't devoting much time to other theories, of course, but a horrible little fear has settled into Tim that keeps whispering. "What if you're searching in the wrong places?"
He needs to get Jason back. If they're wrong about Joker...
But, no. Jason has been investigating her, right under their noses, the entire time. There is nothing else that it could be but her intervention.
So he focuses his attention instead on trying to invent some way to lure her from the park. If they can get her out for a while, then they can get some operatives in, and they can spring Jason without her even knowing.
What he hasn't accounted for, though, was the fact that the news of Jason's disappearance might spread further than the family could have expected. This isn't a bad thing, but it is a surprise--
Which shows up in Gotham in the form of Melvin.
He glances at her, eyebrows raised, and he wonders what she's seeing that gives him away (...okay, so, it might be easier to tell than he thinks. He's been a mess since yesterday morning), but after a moment, he offers her a wobbly smile.
"Hey there, fellow Titan. I'm... holding it together. How are you? What brings you all the way to our city? Have you been careful? It's, uh... a little more dangerous these days, than it usually is. I'm glad you found me; Titans should stick together, you know?"
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healthy-and-tiny · 2 years
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Taking my life back
Plan *from 141 to 119*
Fill out a daily journal on weight, cals in, cals out, and steps with measurements weeklyish
Go for a walk as many days as possible during the week and weekend - if there is time, go. If there isn't time, see if I can make some.
Coffee with oat milk when wanted but fall in love with black coffee again
Minimal calories before dinner, fruit is a great snack!
Aim for 1200 a day. I'm a short, small person and this is actually reasonable.
Why
The way my clothes fall effortlessly over my frame and the confidence I feel in my looks - even in simple outfits - is worth it. I get to feel like who I am meant to be.Take
When I see results I feel excited to keep going each day.
When others see results they tell me how good I look and ask what I've been doing. At 32 I'm getting more and more attractive with age and people are in disbelief.
The way my eyes look bigger, my cheek bones are natural, my jaw line is sharp and my smile is bright.
The way my neck and shoulders look elegant but strong.
My breasts are perky and natural without being overwhelming and heavy.
The way my waist is so tiny. I'm naturally built for a tiny waist, an hourglass figure which looks insanely good when I'm small. I am lucky to be able to take full advantage of this look just by being a small weight.
The way my ribs and chest bones show just enough.
The way my hip bones are close to my skin, and when I lay down they show. The way he runs his hands over them.
The way my legs are unmistakably thin even if my body isn't built for a thigh gap. The way no one would even question it.
The way my body feels like it's floating, moving with ease, and grace. The way my stride is longer and smoother. I can curl up smaller. Everything I do feels better. Looks better.
Plan *from struggling to thriving*
Take 7 days worth of feed photos on Monday
Take 5 days worth of PPVs Monday
Que feed for 7 am
Send PPV while having morning coffee
Answer DMs with morning coffee
Stream one misc. day and Friday
Why
When my bank account fills up, my stress goes down and I have more freedom in my life.
I can pay down my debt, mortgage and bills, or anything else that comes up with ease and without worry or stress. It's like nothing. It rolls off my back because there is always more than enough.
As the momentum is gained, I wake up excited for each day.
Once my debts are paid down, I can work towards the things I want like new paint, floors, and window treatments.
I will be able to focus on my future, our future. Everything will be going to me.
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xvminkook · 1 month
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Deal | Min Yoongi
Warning: This fanfic is not based on real events and is only for entertainment purposes. I am not trying to sexualize BTS in ANY way.
This fanfic includes the following: Smut, sex, NSFW stuff, dirty talk, swear words and other vulgarities. If you’re sensitive to any of the following activities, do not read and block my account.
Please be AT LEAST 18 to view. Enjoy!!!
You and Yoongi are stepsiblings; you both have always harbored deeper feelings for each other, but choose not to act on them...yet. Yoongi acts cold and heartless towards you to keep his feelings hidden, and he even has a "girlfriend" that is more of a distraction from his feelings for you. One night, your friend Jungkook has invited you out to a party, to which you excitedly agree to go. As you get ready, you hear Yoongi and his "girlfriend" arguing; you can't quite understand what they're saying. You finish getting ready and get ready to knock on Yoongi's door to let him know you're leaving. But before you can knock...his "girlfriend" opens the door, glares at you and then smacks you across the face. You say nothing as she then storms out of the house in a huff. Then, Yoongi steps into the doorway, shirtless and looks down at you, furrowing his eyebrows. "What?" Yoongi asked. "I'm going out." You mutter as you touch your cheek. "I'm going to a party." “Okay, just be safe” Yoongi grumbled.
Yoongis heart skipped a beat at the tone of your voice, but he quickly tried to dismiss it. As you left, he couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. You come home after about 5 hours, he heard your voice and immediately tensed up, trying to ignore the sudden rush of emotions that flooded him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had been waiting for you. “Sorry for being gone for so long” you said quietly. Yoongi didn’t respond, still trying to push down his feelings. He continued to ignore, focusing on whatever he was doing instead. “You okay?” You asked him, desperate for an answer. Yoongi finally looked up at you, his eyes narrowed. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He said very softly. You knew he was hiding something so you decided to ask him “Tell me what’s wrong, Yoongi.” He sighed, trying to get you to understand. “I’ll just leave you alone for a bit” you said before walking away. Yoongi watched you walk away, feeling a mix of emotions. He knew he needed to talk to you, but he was scared of how vulnerable it would make him feel.
5 minutes later, you walk out of your bedroom. You were wearing a really tight red dress. You were trying to catch Yoongis attention. “Do you like my dress?” You asked Yoongi. Yoongi turned back to his task, trying to ignore you. But he couldn’t help but notice the way your dress clung to your curves. Emphasizing your hourglass figure. His heart skipped a beat at your question, his mind racing. He couldn’t deny that he found you attractive, but he was determined not to let you know. You walk over and sit down beside him, you then touch his thigh. Yoongis face lit up. “Come on admit it, you want me just as much as I want you” You said very sexily, again trying to catch his attention. Yoongi gritted his teeth, trying to keep his emotions under control. He knew he needed to push you away, but he couldn’t help but feel drawn to you. “I’ll tell you what, if you talk to me, I’ll take my dress off for you.” Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat at your offer. He knew he shouldn’t take advantage of you like that, but he couldn’t resist the temptation. His mind was racing with thoughts of seeing you naked. Yoongi couldn’t stand how much he was attracted to you, but he couldn’t deny it any longer. “I want you, Yoongi.” You said teasing him. With a deep breath, Yoongi finally confessed his feelings “I…I want you too” Yoongi said hesitantly, but proudly. “How about we go to your bedroom?” You asked him, desperate for him. Yoongis heart was pounding in his chest as he followed you to his bedroom. His mind was filled with conflicting emotions, excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming desire. He couldn’t believe this was happening
You finally arrived in his bedroom. Yoongi tried to control his breathing as he watched you strip off your dress. His eyes were glued to your body, taking in every curve and contour. He felt a wave of lust wash over him, making it difficult for him to think straight. Yoongi then got up and put his hands on your hips, slightly pulling you closer. His skin was warm against yours, and he could feel his heart racing in anticipation. “Throw me on the bed and fuck me senseless.” Yoongi’s eyes darkened as he heard your command. Without any words, he picked you up bridal style and threw you on the bed. His face roamed over you hungrily as he removed his clothes before positioning himself between your legs.
Without any further prompting, Yoongi thrusted deep into you, claiming your tightness as his own. He groaned loudly, feeling the rush of pleasure course through him. His hips began to move in a steady rhythm, taking you hard and fast. You moaned, which led to you having a very hard, and long orgasm. Yoongi felt the first wave of your orgasm wash over him, and he thrusted deeper into you, desperate to feel more. He growled as he felt his own release building, and with one last hard thrust, he emptied himself inside you. “You were so good, Yoongi” you said with your very raspy voice. “You were good too, y/n.”
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dasmondkuss · 9 months
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Winter
Face claim: Lee Sun from Your Secret Keeper.
Name: Winter Lee.
Age: 21 (Baseline)
Gender and pronouns: Female | She/Her.
Sexuality: Bisexual.
Birthday and zodiac sign: August 12th | Leo.
Physical appearance: Long straight purple hair, pale skin with pink undertones, red eyes, thin eyebrows, and thin lips. Skinny hourglass body.
Height: 170 cm | 5’ 7"
Weight: 89 kg | 197 lb
Fashion style: Chic goth style.
Personality: ENTJ = Commander.
“They need to remember though, that their stature comes not just from their own actions, but from the actions of the team that props them up, and that it’s important to recognize the contributions, talents, and needs, especially from an emotional perspective, of their support network.”
Virtues: efficient, self-confident, strategic thinkers, strong-willed.
Weaknesses: stubborn, dominant, cold, poor handling of emotions.
Past:
Winter Lee was raised in a traditional family on the city’s outskirts, demonstrating high skills as soon as she started kindergarten. However, behind her intelligence was a very mean girl to his schoolmates. She would constantly pull their hair, bite them, break their stuff, and when a figure of authority called her out, she couldn’t understand what was so upsetting about her behavior.
At three, she was sent to a psychiatrist, but any diagnosis fit her behavior. It took about three more years to figure out why she couldn’t restrain herself or show, at least, sympathy for others. Winter had a lesion on her brain in the anterior insular cortex where the feeling of empathy originates, probably a genetic issue.
She started going to therapy to manage her traits, and she carries a normal life, more or less.
Winter feels she’s a fantastic actress, pretending to be someone she’s not. Winter constantly holds back her opinions and curiosity because everyone gets hurt by her words. She doesn’t care, but she’s been told how to care: which questions to make, which expressions to show, even how and when she’s supposed to remain silent. As a result, she’s become a bit too dependent on alcohol and chocolate, which help her regulate her mood.
She’s good at making friends but not at maintaining them. She’s lost all contact with her family because they can’t stand each other. She loves her dog Mozart, the only being that softens her up.
Winter is a workaholic accountant. It’s the only place where being a badass bitch pays off.
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crossingbard · 2 years
Text
What Makes You Different Ch. 3 Realizations (Dorien)
ao3
Summary:
Change is a nasty, insidious thing. One second a seed is planted, then the next time you look there sits a tree. It's hard to notice a large shift when things seem to change daily.
Chapter Summary:
Dorien is not a fan of how distracted he has been.
A series of shorts from throughout the collection.
Notes:
Other fic references Short 1: During Late Night Revelations Short 2: After A Royal Reception Short 3: Before Business & Pleasure Short 4: During Business & Pleasure Short 5, 6, and 7: After Business & Pleasure
Dorien Aurifort was doing it again. He was talking far too much
He knew this, for he always did when passionate about a subject. He had gotten…better at catching himself as he aged, but alcohol was great at loosing the tongue, and the pair had been drinking for a spell.
“Ah, I have been overeager in sharing. We can change the topic if you want.” He smiled graciously, hiding the shame of forgetting himself again.
In front of an incredibly attractive man, no less.
Thancred waved a hand dismissively, a broad smile across his flushed features, “Perish the thought. Admittedly, arcane history was not my source of study, but listening to you is delightful. Pray, do not stop on my account.”
His voice was kind, and he wanted to say it felt genuine, though it could have been wishful thinking. Regardless of his thoughts on the matter, Thancred asked him a follow-up question to a previous statement. It could have been the alcohol, but Dorien felt the tension leave his body as he answered, and the two continued their conversation.
--------
Dorien woke up the morning after the banquette within his room at the Hourglass. He knew well that he had not drank that much the night before, so wh—He then remembered his vision, flushing wildly when he realized that he likely passed out at the banquette in his honor. The elezen man got out of bed, noticing the missing duster but not thinking much about it as he made his way to the Quicksand.
He moved quickly towards the stairs and stopped when he almost tripped over a lalafellan woman—Momodi! Dorien opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by the proprietress, “What do you think you’re doin’ up? You should be lyin’ down, not running through my halls!”
Like a scolded child, he walked back to his inn room and sat at the small table. “…I fainted at the banquette, is that correct?” She nodded, and Dorien cursed under his breath for making a fool of himself, in public.
A sympathetic look flashed across her features, though the mage did not catch it. Taking a seat across from the elezen man, she said, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I hear Raubahn covered it up quite well! Most people who talkin’ about it are trying to figure out what story he could have possibly told you that bored you so.” She laughed, but he didn’t feel relieved.
“…Did he bring me back here?”
“Oh no! Your good, good friend brought you back.” Lowering her lids and cocking her head, she smirked at him.
He did not notice.
He thought of the Captain of the Sultanguard with whom he spent most of the night, confused but tickled by the image of the lalafellan man trying to organize that feat. He did not doubt him, but it would certainly be an amount of work.
She did not let him visualize that for long before letting out a drawn-out breath, “You can be a lil’ dense sometimes, dear. Let’s try this, ‘He is equal parts beauty and nerve. He can drive me mad, but he is also sooooo lovely! Do you have anyyyyy innnforrmaaatioon on him?’” Her tone was teasing as she stared at him, eyes like daggers.
His eyes widened, and his face reddened, “You cannot be serious.”
That must have been the reaction she was looking for, for she started cackling like a demon, “I have never been anything but serious! He was dressed sooooo well last night too. Did you not see him? Because you should’ve.”
“No. I saw him.” He buried his face in his hands, shame consuming him.
“Perfect, so I don’t need to go into detail about how he straightened up his hair with his loosened tie and an unbuttoned shirt. Oh! And his face when he brought you in—”
“No! You do not need to tell me that! I have heard quite enough.”
She continued laughing, then tapped the table when she had finally composed herself, “Not like I wasn’t going to, but he requested I come and check on you in the mornin; I don’t think he’d ever admit it, but he was worried about you. I’ll let him know you’re doin’ alright, though. …Anything else you would like me to tell him?”
He pulled his face from his hands and shook his head, feeling utterly defeated, “You can tell him that I appreciate his assistance and aim to repay his kindness when we next meet.”
She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, “Anything else?”
He scowled at her, chuckling, “Nothing at all, Ms. Matchmaker. Now, if I may, do I have your permission to continue my day?”
She threw a hand up dramatically, dismissing him as she hopped out of the chair, “I am just doing my part. You tell me you find him handsome and how you want to see him but won’t put in your own legwork.” Before leaving the room, she turned around, her expression softened, “I am glad you are well, Dorien.”
He ignored her previous statement and nodded, “Thank you, Momodi.” He called after her.
Dorien frowned and got up to change out of his dress clothes when she left. He went to remove the cravat and undo his shirt before realizing that it was already gone, the top few buttons of his shirt undone.
A flash of green on the armoire caught his eye, sitting atop his duster—when did he take off the coat?
He walked over to the articles and noticed a piece of parchment penned by an unfamiliar hand,
I know not when our paths will cross next. I am remised that I did not get to speak to the man of honor, but I suppose taking him to bed will have to suffice! I jest but know that I am impressed by your achievements and wish to congratulate you. I hope when you think back on them, you feel pride.
-Thancred
He read, then reread the note…several times. He then carefully folded the letter as he lifted his duster, nicely folded upon the armoire.
Someone…likely Thancred undressed him…partially…but…
He was certain he could not possibly be more embarrassed than he was at this moment.
That was the man he was trying to sleep with!
He did his best not to imagine himself being carried; the cravat carefully unfastened as he slid the duster from his shoulders.
He did his best not to imagine what he would have done if he had been awake.
His best was not good enough as he buried his face in his hands again and let out a muffled scream.
He…He needed to leave. He needed to speak to Raubahn or literally anyone else.
He packed the clothes away and stared at the letter he had left neatly folded. He swiftly picked it up and placed it into his journal, sealing it between two pages.
--------
Dorien sat at the table, smiling and laughing along to hide the unease of not quite fitting in. Around him sat the circle of Sharlayan scholars and the antecedent of the organization he had just aligned himself with. He could not help but feel a little out of place among the lot. They were formally learned, unlike Dorien’s primarily self-studied education. That was only for starters, too, as they had known each other for years.
He played the bystander, never speaking unless a question was directly asked when a familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Now that you are so well-traveled, I am sure we would all love it if you regaled us with your exploits!” Thancred grinned and clasped his arm.
The hyur woman nodded vigorously, “Yes! Yes! I know that we saw you in Gridania, but I would love to hear what you liked about it! There’s the large tree in the central shroud, or! Maybe—”
“Maybe let him speak his own words, Yda.” The lalafellan man said to her. His tone was scolding but full of a sardonic warmth.
They gave room for the mage to speak, so he talked about his journey thus far. The evening continued, and Dorien noticed that if he ever fell out of the conversation, his friend was more than happy to find a way to rope him back in.
As the night ended, he felt less out of place. Maybe these Scions of the Seventh Dawn could be something to him.
--------
Dorien skidded into a dark alleyway, falling onto his knees as he tried to press forward. The road had iced over, and he could feel the cold biting his skin even through the layers of clothes. In a way, it all seemed familiar, though he could never really tell why.
All he knew was that he had to get out of here.
He had to leave.
He tucked the parcel under his arm and forced himself up just as a shout was heard in the distance, and so, Dorien kept running. He moved further into the darkness, hoping to find a safe place to tuck away, when he almost fell forward once more.
Splitting, searing pain blossomed against the back of his head, and he reached to see what had happened, pausing when he saw blood on his hand. Someone threw something at him.
The shouting got louder, and he knew he would not be able to hide.
The scene broke up around him, and it was as if the sun was cresting over the buildings. He looked on in confusion, knowing well that it was the early evening. That was when the mage remembered. It was a nightmare. The imaginary pain dissipated, and he relaxed.
He knew not where his dreams took him after, but he knew that he would not be reliving his darker moments tonight.
He was not sure for how much longer he slept. When he did wake, though, a warm hand rested on one of his, and he dared not move as he stared at it. He flicked his eyes up and saw Thancred sitting straight, eyes shut and smiling as he ran his thumb across the back of the mage’s hand. He indulged in the action for just a bit as he closed his eyes and smiled.
Still, though, hand holding was probably not part of the agreement. He smiled coyly as he intertwined their fingers and greeted his lover, deciding it was finally time to rise for the day.
When he released the hand to show that he was not looking to push boundaries, he felt…a little emptier.
How strange.
--------
“My late arrival nearly cost Dorien his life.”
“I failed him utterly. Just as I’m failing you all.”
Dorien’s hand hovered over the doorknob, his stomach sinking as he overheard Thancred speaking to Minfilia. He wanted to rush in and agree with Minfilia…to shake him and…hold him.
He was pulled to reality by someone calling to him. Minfilia seemed to stop them in their thoughts as he walked in, putting on his best face. He grinned at Thancred, who grinned back.
A couple of actors, the both, it seemed.
When Minfilia left the room, Thancred’s mask fell, and scorn colored his features. He told Dorien of the tempered abductees, and the grip he held on to his casual demeanor slipped as he blanched. The people he had been kidnapped with, those he commiserated with while awaiting certain death, only to overcome it.
Alone.
The grief of lost comrades was compounded by the grief for Thancred as he left and spoke, “Gods forgive me… How many more lives…? Louisoix would never have allowed this to happen. I have to do better…I have to be stronger….”
Alone…once again.
He took a seat in the empty office, not wanting to risk conversation with anyone, and stared forward.
--------
He had hardly seen the man in the days moving forward. He was instructed to take a break, so he spent most of his time shuffling about the Waking Sands. He was happy about the others coming through, but…he never really noticed how often Thancred was out until he stopped coming around, despite the Waking Sands being within his city-state.
When he did see him, every interaction with Thancred since felt clipped, short and formal, and he wanted to scream. He just…wanted to talk to him. He wanted to see him smile, he wanted to…
Maybe he could do something! Maybe a gift! That way, even in passing, he could offer his companionship.
He set forth as if this was a new mission and went to gather information. He found Y’shtola in the tavern and asked her about a favorite treat that could hold for a day or two if he missed him. She offered the information without fuss, something Dorien realized he was not used to.
Her tail flicked curiously as she smiled and said, “You are putting in quite a bit of work for him. I am sure he will appreciate it greatly.
“Oh…I just thought--is it much?” Doubt crossed his features. The mage opened his mouth to speak when Y’shtola stopped him with a shake of the head.
“No, no. Do not think too hard about it. You are a good friend, Dorien, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say we are so glad you are here.” She smiled as she shut the book she had and turned to place it back on the shelf.
--------
He did, in fact, think too hard about it.
Dorien stared at the box containing the taffy as if it would explode. Despite how modest the gift was, he was at battle with himself, trying to figure out if it was too much.
Maybe how much he was thinking about it made it too much.
Or maybe he was just thinking too hard about nothing.
He heard from Tataru that Thancred planned to stop by for a progress report today. This news was putting him at his wit’s end with impatience.
He hated how…antsy he felt.
It was a feeling that confused him. Antsy was something he was used to, but loneliness was also, so why was the quiet distressing him?
His time spent researching with Urianger objectively was no different than his time with Thancred. It was not as if he was touch-starved either. …Well, maybe he was, but he knew that was not the problem either.
So, what was it?
He left his room after deciding a walk would be a prudent measure. He was too nervous, and nothing good ever came from a frazzled mind.
Knowing every facet of oneself was the key to not speaking out of turn when one’s emotions flared up.
And his emotions were definitely flaring up.
He moved towards the door to exit the Waking Sands when the door opened before him, and he jumped. He noticed the shock of white hair that sat at eye level and almost shouted from the mix of fear and excitement.
He was excited about the gift, he told himself.
He was scared of…hmm…
He collected himself as he moved out of his friend’s path, “Thancred!” He smiled broadly, “I am glad I caught you. Could you meet me in the tavern if you have the time to spare?”
He looked apprehensive and glanced towards the door to the solar. However, this battle was brief as he nodded and gave a tired smile. “For you? I will make the time. …Were you not just on your way out, though?”
“Oh. I was just looking to get some air. I promise this will be brief, for I know you’re quite busy.” He turned on his heel and went back to the room he had just left. He stared down at the box, and the apprehension ate at him once more.
He should have taken that walk first.
He kicked himself for panicking so much over this. It was just candy…and a note.
He wrote it hoping that it would bring the bard as much joy as the one he had received.
Well, he didn’t know Dorien had kept that. …Was it strange that he kept it?
No, no…It was too much.
He pocketed the letter and walked to the tavern, meeting his friend hanging towards the back.
Dorien tempered the bounce in his step as he walked up to Thancred and held out the small box. He took it inquisitively, and when he opened it, his face lit up. “What do we have here? A lovely surprise from a lovely person. Is there an occasion I should be aware of?—Oh, are these the ones from the culinarians’ guild?” He ate one and chuckled, a contented smile on his face, and Dorien could not hold back the pride at his reaction.
“Ah, yes. Y’shtola told me that you liked them. There is no occasion. I just had some extra time on my hands and wanted to show appreciation. You have been there for me through much, so I wanted to thank you.” He smiled softly as he sat on one of the sealed crates.
Thancred had eaten another one and nodded. When he was able to speak again, a smirk sat on his lips as he said, “Are you sure you didn’t just miss me? You can just come out and say that, dear.” There it was. The sarcasm, the nerve, Dorien had missed it more than he realized.
He huffed, “There is no reason it cannot be both.”
Thancred shut the box and returned the soft smile, “Well, know well that the feeling is reciprocated. This was lovely. Alas, I must report to Minfilia, but rest assured this will be enjoyed. This means more than you know.”
His face shot red as his heart fluttered—wait, what? He…he nodded and smiled sheepishly.
How incredibly uncharacteristic of him.
He forced the strange feeling down, smiling as he asked, “Will you be heading out again?” The response was a sympathetic nod, and the unusual fluttering stopped and replaced itself with an equally unusual emptiness. “When are you set to depart?”
His brows knit together for an instant, and Dorien worried that he had pushed too far. He prayed that he did not sound desperate for the company; he just hadn’t seen him in a while. He looked up and smiled, “I should be able to get away with leaving on the ‘morrow. You mentioned you were going on a walk; would you care for some company?”
He stomped down the eagerness like embers from a spent campfire. “I will always accept an offer for your company.”
Thancred chuckled and went about his business, leaving Dorien sitting on the crates. The mage looked forward at the wall, the flush he had been reigning in taking over full force as he gripped the edge of the box. He needed to figure out why he was so incredibly volatile. He was sick of getting distracted.
On the other side of the tavern, Urianger pulled out a small journal and quickly jotted down something before smirking and putting it away. It seemed that Y’shtola’s theory might have some merit to it after all.
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