#steep price

[howifeltabouthim]

'You ever think something good can come out of something so bad?' she asked. 'Something beautiful, maybe. A dawning. A realization. But nothing good, kid. The price is too great.'

Chris Whitaker, from All the Colors of the Dark

[shadeysprings]

Steep Price

— Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: The night you pick your boyfriend up from work is the night when your entire life comes crashing down. 

Warnings: noncon, fingers at play, physical violence, public smut, character death & kidnapping. There may be more but do take caution as this is a dark fic.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week One: I Spy Challenge. The word I chose to incorporate here is diamond necklace with the theme of addiction and setting of mafia. It has been a while since I wrote Dark Jorah so here we are. Also, a big shout out to @sgt-seabass for giving me the idea of the fic as well as allowing me to incorporate her work, Clockwork, into this fic (kindly check that out) and also to my beta, @mochie85. You both are rockstars!

Your feedback is highly appreciated and encouraged. Reblogs would be really amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

The chime of the bell is music to your ears as it resounds through the air upon opening the doors of the quaint bookshop. Your nose, kissed by the scent of the pages, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort and warmth, a huge contrast to the cold rain that continues to fall down from the evening sky.

The place is empty, after giving it a quick observation while folding your umbrella close and stowing it in the stand. You hear your name being called from further in the front room, a smile forming on your lips as you make your way to the counter, seeing your boyfriend, Doug, place down a box of books on the ground and stalk over to you. 

His lips immediately find yours, your arms wrapping around his neck. Dark, blond locks fall over his forehead when he pulls away only to nuzzle his nose against yours in greeting. 

“You’re here early.” He says against your lips and you let out a giggle as he showers your face with a few butterfly kisses, his fuzzy beard tickling your cheeks. “I won’t be off for another thirty minutes.”

“I know.” You mumble, your hands sliding down to press against his firm chest, the cotton of his navy shirt smooth to the touch. “And you know I don’t mind waiting. The books are very much pleasant company.” He smiles at your words and you notice how his eyes move down to your neck. 

“You’re wearing it.” He breathes, his hand reaching up to caress the small diamond pendant that hangs by a silver chain, his birthday present to you. 

“Of course, I am.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist while his thumb caresses the crystal surface. “I’d wear everything you give me.” The slight slant on his lips is enough for you to know what he’s thinking, that of the 3 years you’ve been together, the necklace was the first gift he’s ever given you. 

You’ve told him you didn’t need extravagant things, that his love was enough to sustain the emotional connection you have together. But he was insistent, promising the year before he gave you the diamond necklace that he would make it up to you. And knowing Doug, he is nothing but persistent in whatever he puts his mind to—a trait you deeply appreciate. 

“Douglas—” He blinks when you call his attention, curious, blue eyes meeting yours. “Speaking of books, did it arrive today?” You beam. 

“Oh!” It’s as if your question snaps him out of a trance, the smile returning to his face. He takes your hand and leads you to the back of the counter with excitement. “Good thing you reminded me.” He hums as he opens the door of the stock room.

You feel giddy as your feet follow him willingly, each step filled with anticipation as he leads you further inside. A multitude of boxes greet you, each one stacked neatly against the wall and into shelves, the titles of the novels hidden within painted on the sides. And it’s when he stops that you recognize the words staring back at you, your hand moving on its own accord to run against the cardboard surface—Clockwork.

“They came in this morning and are scheduled to be sold tomorrow.” He says as he grabs a box cutter from his back pocket and cuts open the lid. He takes a book from inside before carefully sliding it between your palms.

Your eyes glisten as you stare down at the cover, the silver pocket watch sitting proudly above the black background and you can’t help but run your fingers against the embossed image. You turn the cover open and read the brief summary, fingertips tingling with exhilaration as you’re tempted to flip a page and begin reading the first chapter. 

But you hesitate, as much as you want to indulge yourself in the novel, you wouldn’t want to ruin a brand new copy and eventually not have it sold to potential customers. 

“Why aren’t you reading? Don’t you like it?” Doug asks, and you look up at him, seeing the curiosity swimming in his eyes. 

“I do—it’s just, I don’t want to ruin the book.” You pout and place the copy back in the box only for him to take it out again. 

“I can keep this copy and buy it later at a discount.” He volunteers, pressing the hardbound back into your hands before closing up the box. “But you’ll have to wait after two weeks. I get my paycheck then.”

“I appreciate the gesture, babe, but you know we can’t.” 

You and Doug have been planning on buying a house since last year and have decided to save every penny you earned towards that goal. The necklace was indeed a surprise—a bookshop associate isn’t paid much to afford such things—but he promised that it didn’t cost him more than what he could afford. 

Still, you decided that it would be the last of the luxury you both spent on, and a book this big in the market, as tempting as it is, isn’t worth losing an opportunity to set aside for something much bigger in the future.

“I could probably download an ebook by the end of the month.” You say with a smile, an attempt to comfort him. “I’m not in a hurry to grab a copy.” 

“Knowing you and your love for these novels?” He scoffs, the sound more teasing than insulting. “Or what about I keep the copy and you come over an hour before closing so you can read it?” He offers, a wide grin chiseled on his face. “That way, even if you don’t have a copy, you’re still keeping up with the story.”

“You think Lorraine won’t mind?”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He chuckles, taking your arms and folding them over the book, the hardcover pressing against your chest. “Go on. Settle in a corner and read it. You’ll probably get to chapter three before I finish closing up.” 

“But—”

“Go on.” He urges with a laugh, ushering you out of the stock room before closing the door behind him. “I’ll meet you at your table when I’m done, okay? And you can tell me how much you like the book after.” It’s all he says before pressing a kiss on the top of your head and leaving you by the counter to resume his task. 

You stare at the book in your arms, smiling as you admire the cover once more. He does have a point. If you can’t have a copy yet, what’s wrong with reading one in the store? It’s not like you’re stealing it. No harm, no foul.

The excitement returns in full force and you immediately scurry to your favorite table in the shop, your breathing heavy as you take a seat and settle the novel atop the wooden surface. Taking a deep breath, you flip the book to the first chapter and begin reading the text; your mind immediately building the scene, slipping your feet in the shoes of the protagonist, and imagining yourself walking down a pathway with the summer sun beating down on your neck.

You feel your heart race as each scene shapes the story, the first several pages leaving you breathless and wanting, a slave to the author and her captivating words. 

The chime of the bell briefly takes your attention but you’re immediately sucked back into the world at the edge of your fingertips. Your blood is filled with adrenaline as the story reaches a peak you didn’t expect, digesting each paragraph, the anticipation of what’s to come next washing over you in a huge wave each time you turn the page. 

A loud groan then echoes from the back of the shop and you stop mid-read, a sudden sense of trepidation crawling up your spine. You think it was just Doug running the cart to return the books to their proper place but something tells you it's so much more that you close the book with a snap and stand from your seat, slowly walking to where you heard the sound to check on it.

“Babe? You okay back there?” You call, peeking from the shelves. The lack of response renders you nervous for it’s unusual for him not to ease your worry. “Doug?” You try again, your steps slow and measured as you peer at another aisle then another yet seeing him gone. 

You make your way to the reading nook, the place volunteers would read to the children on Wednesdays, expecting to see him tidying up the space. And you do see him, seated in one of the smaller chairs, a sigh of relief escaping your lips before deciding to make your way towards him. 

But your feet falter and a silent gasp leaves your lips when a fist meets his face, knocking him to the ground. Your eyes widen in shock when he lays on his side, coughing violently, blood sputtering out of his mouth and staining the floor.

“Where are my diamonds, thief?” A gruff voice echoes through the open space, the face of the stranger blocked by the shelves. 

“I already told you—” Doug groans as he tries to push himself off the floor. “I don’t have—”

But a foot lands on his abdomen, kicking him harshly onto his back before he can even finish talking. You see the man draws near him, a black button-up hidden underneath a black coat. His ginger, blond curls are messy from the effort he’s exerted to hurting the man you love. 

He lands another kick then another and you grit your teeth in anger as the sound of Doug’s pained groans fills your ears. 

The grip on the book tightens and you take a deep breath before shouting loudly for him to stop, barreling toward your boyfriend’s assailant with the hardbound raised over your head with the intention of sending back a harsh blow. But someone catches you by the waist, pinning your arms to your sides which makes you drop the book at your feet.

“Leave him alone!” You yell as you thrash against the solid wall of chest behind you, kicking your legs violently and squirming to be released. “Let me go, you bastard! What the fuck do you want from us?!” You don’t relent, groaning as you try to escape but pain soon radiates at your sides when your captor tightens their grip around you. “Who are they, Doug?! What do they want?!”

You stop moving when you see the man clad in a black suit staring at you then at your boyfriend before picking the novel from the ground. His fingers kiss the tip of his tongue as he begins flipping through the pages with a curious hum.

“Who is she, Douglas?” He asks without looking up.

“She—she’s no one.” Doug coughs, his arm wiping the blood dripping from his lips as he struggles to get up.

The ginger-blond stranger waves his hand in nonchalance when suddenly, another stands behind Doug, grabbing him by his arm to pull him up on his knees. Fear immediately runs up your spin when you hear the click of a gun, Doug stays still on the ground as the barrel of the weapon his pressed to the back of his head. 

“I will try again.” The man says as he licks his fingers once more, flipping another page. “Who is she and what is she doing here?” He intones, the tension in the air thickening. “She can’t possibly be a customer. Your store has been closed for some time now.” The sound of the book snapping shut makes your heart jump, swallowing thickly as you raise your chin when the edge is pressed high against your neck.

“I said she’s no one.” Doug snarls, his mouth painted crimson as he turns to face you. “Just let her go, Mormont. She has nothing to do with this.”

The man—Mormont—seems to consider his words.

“Well, if she’s no one, you wouldn’t mind if we shut her up then,” Mormont says with a wicked grin and nodding in your direction. Out of the blue, you feel cold metal press on your temple, whimpering as tears begin rolling down your face. “We wouldn’t want any witnesses to our little exchange, now  do we, Douglas?”

“Jorah,” Someone calls and Mormont turns to look over his shoulder. “The necklace. On the girl.”

Mormont’s eyes snap back to you, dark oceanic orbs meeting yours that slowly run down to the base of your neck. Your throat bobs when you feel his rough fingers brush against your skin, his eyes narrowing then widening as if recognizing the jewel that sits at the base of your neck. The book that holds your chin up is soon replaced by his hand.

“I’m guessing you like mafia novels, huh, sweetheart?” Still staring at the necklace, he holds up the novel for you to see, the cover staring back at you. But you keep your mouth shut, too afraid to even utter a sound. “Well, you’re in one right now and I’m sure you’re fairly familiar with how things like these go, am I right?” His eyes find yours, seeing malice laced into his irises. The gun at your temple is removed and he gives the book to the man that’s held you captive. 

Slowly, he circles you like a predator would its prey, your chest heaving and your back going rigid when you sense him stop behind you. His hand finds purchase around your neck, your chin moving upward upon instinct. He tightens his hold and you wince, your hand reaching up to take hold of his wrist. 

“I ask you a question and you answer. Am I understood?” He whispers, feeling crowded as he bends over you, his other hand resting tauntingly against your hip. “Now, be a good girl and tell me where you got the necklace, darling.” 

You don’t respond, your eyes drifting to Doug as you try to seek him for answers. Who are they? What do they want? Questions lingering in your head. But his face gives nothing away, fingers flexing against his thighs and curling into fists as he watches the display before him. 

Mormont tuts at your silence, crying in silence as his hand moves to the front of your jeans, his fingers tapping along the button and the fly, threatening to slide past the barrier. 

“Staying quiet won’t do you any good, darling.” He groans against your ear, his beard prickling your skin when he presses his face against your temple. “Now, I’ll ask again.” His hot breath scalds your cheek and you cry out when he suddenly slips his hand through your pants and panties, rough fingers pushing down further to cup your sex. You grit your teeth and grab tight on his wrist, trying to pull his hand out when he presses his thumb against your clit. “Where did you get the necklace?”  

You open your mouth to speak, to give him the answer he seeks for him to stop. But no words come out, only a silent scream when he slips a digit past your folds, his foot pushing yours aside to spread your legs wide. 

“Stop it! Don’t touch her!” Doug shouts from where he kneels and tries to get up. “She knows nothing!” But the man behind him kicks him on the back, causing him to fall once more. 

“I thought she was no one, Douglas?” Mormont mocks as he fucks you with his finger, your chest heaving as your stomach rolls in disgust with the unwanted pleasure that burns within your core. Your pussy clamps down on his digits when he slips another finger, stretching you wide. “Why does she have my diamond, Dougie?” He spits and you gasp sharply when he adds a third, your back arching against his solid chest as his thumb presses roughly against your clit, his hand twisting in your pants, turning in a new angle to fuck you faster with his fingers. 

Your breathing grows heavy and you feel the room closing in on you as your toes curl from his touch. You cry in desperation, vision blurry as you turn into a babbling mess, begging for him to stop. But he’s impervious to your pleas, your spine tingling and your face heating with shame as your cunt slickens with every thrust.

“S-stop—” You whimper, both hands grabbing on his wrist as you once more try to pull free from his cruelty. “P-please—I’ll talk! I’ll—” The words come out garbled, clogging your throat as moans rush out from your lips.

“I gave it to her!” Doug shouts and Mormont’s hand stills from your cunt, the arousal slipping from your blood. “Please—just stop.” He sobs while walking towards you on his knees. “I stole the diamonds, Jorah. I stole them and gave her a piece as a present.” The confession that drips from his lips is a stab to your heart, that he’s crossed such dangerous men and all for a piece of rock.  

Mormont’s silence is deadly and you feel his chest rumble against your back as he lets out a deep breath. Then all at once, his hold on your neck tightens and you shout in terror when his fingers begin to move once again, choking as he digs his fingers into your throat, the flame deep in your belly flickering back to life. 

“You take my things, I’ll take yours!” He snarls and two men grab hold of Doug’s arms when he lunges at you, holding him back as he struggles to set himself free. 

Your body shakes as his fingers continue to pull you closer to the edge. 

“No! You bastard!” Doug shouts but Mormont simply laughs, the sinister sound blaring in your eyes. 

“Look at him, darling. Look at that pathetic excuse of a man.” He commands yet you defy him, closing your eyes as you refuse to face your boyfriend in humiliation. But his grip on your neck tightens further and you open your eyes, Mormont’s hand framing your jaw as he forces you to look Doug in the eyes. “Look at him! I want him to see you come because of me. I want him to bare witness to what his stupidity has led you into.”

Tears flow once more from your eyes as you face him. His eyes are full of anger yet his face sullen in defeat as he’s left helpless to defend you. Your eyes then shut tight as your spine curves and your head rests against Mormont’s shoulder, your fingers digging hard into his sleeve when your body shakes, your cunt fluttering around his digits when you come hard on his hand. 

He continues to thrust in you, fingers sliding easily against your sopping walls. A sigh then escapes you when he pulls his hand away, smearing your juices over your abdomen and then slipping them into his mouth. 

“Fuck—you taste like honey.” Mormont growls, your body limp against his, breathing heavy, that you don’t even bother to pull away when he trails kisses from your cheek and down to your clothed shoulder. “No wonder that loser stole from me. I’d shower diamonds at your feet if I get to fuck such a sweet cunt.” The remark makes your stomach turn in disgust, shame encapsulating you that you allowed this man to toy with you as he pleased. 

“Jorah—” The man from earlier calls. “You had your fun. We have to go.”

Mormont sighs. “Very well.” Your eyes spring open when you hear a loud thud, seeing Doug on the ground once again, holding himself up with his hands and knees. “Kill him.”

“No!” You pull away from Mormont’s hold but he lifts you up in his arms effortlessly, the strength surging back in your veins as you thrash against him. “Doug! Doug!” You cry as you're taken to the doorway of the library. “Please! Don’t kill him! Please—” You sob as you beat against his arm. 

The cold air sears your skin as you’re pushed out of the bookshop, the rain coming down harder than before and lighting painting the sky followed by the crash of thunder. You continue to fight, to retch yourself free from your captors, and go back inside to try and save your love. But Mormont shoves you roughly into the awaiting vehicle, your back hitting the other side as you slide against the leather seat. 

Nonetheless, you waste no time. You jiggle on the handle harshly, trying to pull the lock out of its place, but your fingers stiffen and your head snaps back to the shop when a gunshot rings from the inside, your heart stopping as the door shuts close after Mormont takes his seat, the car driving off into the evening storm. 

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

[frostbitebakery]

CRIMES AGAINST THE INNOCENT

An IGMHC Outtake

There’s a crowd in the training salle on deck 45. Troopers of all generations trying to be inconspicuous, training themselves. And doing a kriffing bad job of it. The shinies are the worst of the lot, just standing there frozen and gawking.

Wooley is embarrassed on their behalf and checks the stop watch. 30 minutes.

“He’s way better at this than you are,” he comments quietly, not wanting to disturb the Commander’s concentration.

Yellow eyes flick to him and back to Commander Cody. “He is, isn’t he,” Obi-Wan sighs, sounding amused and soft. “Mind, he’s spared from the whims of the Force—“

Wooley doesn’t even have to look to know the Commander’s shirt has dropped a little bit more. It’s all apparent in the intense gaze and the blush that’s slowly forming on Obi-Wan’s face. Wooley wants to poke it. He could, without losing the hand, which is weird. And kind of awesome. Poking a Sith and living to tell the tale. If everything works out, he should add that to his CV.

35 minutes.

“He’s in control of his body in absolute,” Obi-Wan murmurs, more to himself than Wooley.

“You’re drooling.”

“It seems to be the case, yes.”

He is so proud of Obi-Wan’s self-awareness.

45 minutes.

“My ass is numb. How long until he wins the bet?”

Commander Cody does a push-up on the one hand, re-adjusting his body to keep the balance while preventing his joints from lock-up. Show-off.

The blush intensifies. “5 minutes ago,” Obi-Wan says absentmindedly, shifting himself.

“Yeah, okay, time to clear the room.”

Especially when Commander Cody wipes the sweat from his face with his shirt and starts smirking at Obi-Wan in triumph.

Obi-Wan slowly grins back, slides onto his knees, and forces Wooley to act immediately. Stars damn it.

“All right, boys,” he announced and catches the attention of everyone not currently in a way too much sexual tension fueled staring contest. “Out with you. Now.”

[wowa-bublord]

you should go into detail about this on my knees pleading

U 2 ARE GIVING ME AN EXCUSE 2 BE EVIL ON MAIN. thank you

okay so, the first thing we hear about Zack in canon is that he has a hero complex KDHHFJD this is a heroes story. with his last line being "Did I make a good hero?". But despite this being a heroes story, we see Zack fail to, and immediately reckon with the consequences of being unable to, save people. (even when the reasons are out of his control) On three main occasions that I'm sure you already know

and through out the game, we see the way he fails take a toll on him through his dialogue ("Why is everyone always pushing everything on me?" "Can't I save anyone?" "So you're putting another mission onto me?" Angeals "It should have been me that killed genesis" and Zacks "Why didn't you?") (these are paraphrased because im too lazy to skim through the game again right now) Zack is guilty. He feels guilty. Even in his visions of Angeal as he's breaking out of the lab are of Angeal berating him for failing to be a SOLDIER. Cloud is the only person he has left to save. Of course he would die for him. Of course he wouldn't look back. Of course he'd give Cloud the bed and sleep on the floor.

Saving Cloud isn't just about saving Cloud

it's his redemption.

[aromumbo]

Careful what you wish for, power always has a price

(finally finished these they took so damn long and are easily some of the most detailed digital art ive done yet)

[mellowscrolls]

Mukuuji's Miraak Standee came in today!!!! Much tinier than i expected, but that's on me. It just makes it cuter!!!

His commissions and store are closing at the end of September so be sure to check him out

HERE!!!!

[kyarymell]

anyway, i’ve spent maybe 70 hours playing this game

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Quick question about a quick quilt...

I can finish a lap size rag quilt in less than a week, twin size in about a week, queen size in two weeks. It's three layers of fabric, quilt-as-you-go, minimal piecing, and they are heavy. Excellent for cold weather and folks who like the weight of blankets but not weighted blankets.* These quilts aren't as hot as layers of fabric plus beads/pellets, and they breathe much more effectively. For a heavier rag quilt, it's a layer of denim and two layers of quilting cotton or flannel. I have a rag quilt for myself that's three layers of quilting cotton. My house is drafty and winters are full of rain, which means the cold sinks into your bones with the humidity. My husband keeps stealing my quilt because his man-cave is the coldest room in the house. He doesn't care that it's very feminine colors "because it's warm."

As for why it's called a rag quilt, here's a sample:

The top is the fluffy side with the exposed seams. Instead of a quarter inch seam allowance the seams under the fabric, it's a one inch seam allowance and the seams are exposed. Said seams are then cut at one inch intervals. With every washing, the seams get fuzzier and softer. They're fun to touch and feel really nice. It's also why these must be dried ALONE or all the strings will end up on whatever else is in the dryer. Three layers of fabric also means two rounds in the dryer on high heat (which is why I like using flannel rather than quilting cotton) or one round of high heat and hanging to dry for a couple hours.

The back looks like a more traditional quilt top and is often the side with denim on it if denim is used. The one is three layers of flannel and was a giveaway prize earlier this year, to celebrate meeting a ko-fi goal.

These are a delight to make and excellent for cold winters and drafty homes. Did I mention they're pretty heavy? The one I have, once all folded up, weighs about six pounds, and knocks my husband out within about ten minutes of him laying over himself. It's why I plan on making a rag quilt for him. He keeps stealing mine.

For context regarding prices, these take significantly less time to make. This one, a lap size, took just 14.5 hours, and that included the quilting. A traditional style baby quilt starts at $2125 because I have a lot more cutting and sewing, and I do the quilting by hand (though it will soon change due to soon having a machine I can use on my Cutie frame and do all my quilting on it), and can take 70-80 hours start to finish. I charge $27/hour + cost of materials to come to the final price.

*A PT I know hates weighted blankets because they cause a lot of injuries. People rolling in bed with a weighted blanket on them have ended up in physical therapy because of soft tissue tears. Most especially dangerous for people with EDS and other connective tissue conditions. Other injuries they've seen are from the pockets with the beads/pellets in them tearing open. Pets and small children have been known to choke on those, and folks who are heavy sleepers can also be injured if the pockets near their face tear in their sleep. When the beads/pellets get all over the floor, people fall and end up with serious injuries from that. Not to mention overheating under all of them because the material doesn't breathe well.

[freaky-flawless]

My feelings on the Vampire Heart doll are all over the place.

But I think they mostly boil down to: I would be more inclined to buy her if it was Elissabat instead just because another collector Draculaura doll feels so unnecessary.

[ghostember]

HONEY WAKE UP. IT’S FREE WORLDWIDE SHIPPING DAY FOR INPRNT!!!

[howifeltabouthim]

'It has all cost so much, and come to so little.'

Lev Grossman, from The Bright Sword

[braininatankwithalaptop]

You know, as set in stone as a spell forger/researcher Zorian is, I think in another life or timeline he could have just as easily become a detective.

An empath that is naturally curious about the world and might look for divination help and be pointed to a detective? I don't think Zorian would join the police force but he in one way or another respects Haslush, and might find his skills fit the field. After all, as a freelance detective/P.I. it would give him the career path of his two favorite activities of "stick my nose into other people's business" and "help my friends."

[zvaigzdelasas]

YOOOOOOOO

[obstinatecondolement]

I was already very happy with the little pocket sized Filofax I bought on eBay to hopefully save me money in the long term on expensive dated planners, since the refills are cheap as chips once the upfront cost of the binder itself is taken care of, and it'll last me for potentially decades since I got a genuine leather one, but I have recently realised I don't even need to buy the official inserts because there are any amount of free printable ones online AND ALSO I can just make my own on Affinity Publisher to look however I want and then print them out for the price of printer paper and toner.

[crisisevil]

lesbian situationship ended so badly I'm spending the weekend in the countryside to get in touch with nature again

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

i love your therapist posting i'm so annoyed that people's weird reactions make you not want to post about her </3

Yea, it's annoying because I hate the feeling I'm being judged. Especially over something like this.